He did not know how many hours had passed.The walls were silent, and the cold seeped from the floor into his bones.And on the wall, that word was carved like a commandment:
Phase 1: Purification.
He had read it dozens of times.It was no longer just a word, but a weight hanging in the air.
With the first thread of dawn, the door opened.Two men entered, their faces like stone, long gray coats, their steps identical as if they were shadows of one thing.They did not look at him. They only stared at the seal engraved in the room, and then one of them whispered a strange word he could not catch.
The other said with dry sternness:— "Stand up."
He stood. Without objection, without an extra question.He was led between their arms through a narrow corridor, until suddenly the scene opened onto the gray space of dawn.
The square was full.Men and women, young and old, rows lined up by shabby houses surrounding the place.All of them bound.Their faces carried confusion, fear, the attempt of denial.
Adam was led until he was placed in the middle of a circle of cold stones.There, next to him stood a young man two or three years older. His eyes wandered, his voice trembling as he whispered to himself:— "They said… purification means only the fittest remain… and the rest… will die."
Adam turned his eyes toward him for a moment.He did not ask him what he meant by death.Instead, he simply said:— "And who do you think is the fittest?"
The young man swallowed hard, then muttered:— "Maybe the strongest… maybe the killer… I don't know."
But Adam did not comment.He was staring at the stones under his feet, watching their coldness seep into him, as if they were part of his body.
On a wooden platform in the middle of the square, a deep voice rose:
— "Chosen ones… your arrival here is proof of passing the first test. Now… purification begins. No one leaves this village before the four phases are complete."
Sounds of shifting, crying, attempts to escape… but the gray coats surrounded the square like a wall of iron.
The voice continued:— "The law of the first phase is simple:Either you bring down the one standing beside you and take their place…Or you prove to us a skill that makes us keep you."
Then silence.Even the air seemed to stop.
Adam did not move.He heard the breathing of the others, their trembling, muffled cries.But inside him… was a sealed silence, as though behind thick glass.
He raised his gaze slowly to the trembling young man beside him.The other stepped back, panting:— "No… stay away… don't come near."
But Adam did not raise a hand.Instead, he placed his palm on his chest, where his heart beat with a steady, cold rhythm.In that moment, he understood:
(They think they are measuring my ability to survive… but what they are truly testing is something they cannot control. The Void.)
He lifted his head, a faint smile sliding onto his face, as though it did not belong to the moment, but to an idea he had not revealed yet.
And he said inside himself:— "Then… let's show them what it means for the game to begin."
Silence lasted five full minutes.No one dared move.Some tried to step toward their neighbor, but hesitation chained them.Others wept.Only one lost control and lunged at the one beside him… but the moment he raised the knife, the engraved seal on the platform lit, and a hidden spark blasted him to the ground.Everyone shuddered.
Then the deep voice rose again:
— "Killing is not the goal… but the means. He who acts blindly falls. He who freezes in place… falls too. We seek what emerges when we place you between death and death."
Nervous murmurs rose, faces turning.Most of them did not understand.
Suddenly, the air grew heavy.As if fog seeped into the chests of those standing.Some fell to their knees gasping, others screamed as their bodies began to tremble.That was the "test": a hidden pressure, an unseen force, squeezing their souls to force each person to bring out what lay deep within.
From the back rows, a girl screamed, and sparks of blue light burst around her.Elsewhere, a young man knelt as his skin cracked and black shining veins spread from his arms.Each was forced to reveal something they had never known about themselves.
But Adam…Nothing happened.
He stood firm, his eyes half-closed, breathing slowly.As if the wave that crushed the others shattered against some hidden wall inside him.No sparks, no flashes, no sound.
Yet… anyone who met his eyes felt a cold emptiness pulling at them, as though Adam was not human but a black mirror swallowing everything.
One gray-coated observer wrote a long note, while another muttered:— "The shell… doesn't crack. That itself… is a result."
When the wave subsided, the ground was littered with exhausted bodies, some unconscious.Only half remained standing.The rest were dragged out of the square like useless stones.
At the moment the man declared "seven minutes," half of the standing ones stepped back a pace or two.Eyes met, whispers rose like the rustle of terrified insects.
The boy beside Adam trembled entirely.He turned his head, looking around with tear-filled eyes, muttering:— "No… I don't want to… I don't want to…"
Adam remained still.A cold glimmer lingered in his dark red eyes.Even though he did not know these people, nor what "purification" truly meant, there was within him a dreadful certainty:
(They won't back down… one of us will die here, or prove an "exceptional skill"…)
A minute passed.One boy — perhaps fifteen — collapsed to his knees, screaming:— "I'm not a killer! I won't kill anyone!"
A man lunged at him from behind and stabbed him in the neck with a rusty knife.A sharp, short cry, then silence.His body fell into the dirt.The echo of his death resounded in the square like a mute wall.
Adam did not blink.He saw how the others stared at the killer with terror mixed with shock, how the dying man shuddered before fading.His mind received it all with chilling calm, as though recording a mathematical equation.
(One down… a hundred and eighty-four left… They fear the choice more than the act.)
The trembling boy edged back until he pressed against the wooden fence.He wanted to get away from Adam.He said in a hoarse voice:— "Y-you… you won't do it… right…?"
Adam did not answer.He slowly bent down and picked up a broken piece of wood — sharp at one end — from beside the fence.He ran his finger along the edge, tested its hardness.Then he raised his head and looked straight into the boy's eyes.A strange silence wrapped everything.
(If I kill him… maybe they'll let me stay. If I don't… I must convince them of another value.)
Another minute passed.At the far side of the square, a woman's scream split the air.A woman in her forties tried to defend herself as a scrawny young man stabbed her again and again.She was gone in seconds.
The voices lowered further.Those left kept glancing around every few seconds, searching for hostile eyes.Necks bent.Chests trembled.The air thickened like a lake of dense fear.
Adam felt something like a void expanding inside him:(This is what my father meant when he said: "The world is an arena where no dreamer survives.")
His voice came out cold, whispering to himself:— "…Dreaming saves no one."
At that moment, he noticed the gray-coated man watching him.He did not raise a weapon.He only stared, as though waiting for something specific.
(So… if I don't kill, I must show an "exceptional skill"… perhaps cruelty… perhaps cunning… perhaps something they've never seen.)
Adam closed his eyes for a second, then drew a deep breath.He opened them slowly and said aloud this time, his voice directed at the man:— "I want to prove my skill."
A heavy silence fell.Even those fighting paused their strikes.The man leaned forward slightly, saying:— "…You refuse killing?"
— "I don't refuse it… but I choose to prove something else."
— "And what is that?"
Adam rested the piece of wood against his chest, slowly, then raised it toward his neck.The nearby boy gasped, retreating further until he pressed against the wooden wall.
Adam continued, his tone steady, unshaking:— "I'll prove to you… that I don't need to terrorize others… in order not to fear death."
He pressed the sharp edge against his skin until a drop of blood trickled.The hand holding the wood was steady.He looked into the man's eyes and said in a broken calm:— "…If you wish… I'll finish it."
That moment was the strangest of his life:He felt no fear, no hesitation.He only felt he was conducting an experiment… as though testing something that did not belong to him.
The man looked at him for a long time.He exchanged a brief glance with his companion.Then he said with a solemn tone:— "Enough… lower it."
Adam did not move.He said with colder calm:— "…And is this proof enough to stay?"
The man nodded shortly:— "Stay in your place."
Then he turned to the others.He raised his voice:— "Thirty seconds left. Whoever has not proven themselves… will die."
Adam slowly lowered the piece of wood from his neck.He did not look at the boy clinging to the wall.His eyes remained fixed on the ground stained with blood, as he murmured without emotion:
— "…Just another phase."
The deep voice returned from the platform:
— "The first purification phase is over. Survivors… you have proven you are fit to continue.As for you…"He gestured toward those carried away,— "You have proven to be excess, unnecessary."
Adam did not smile, did not grieve.He thought calmly:
(So… it was not purification by action, but purification by exposure. What emerges under pressure… is what decides your fate.)
He raised his head to the gray sky and whispered inside:— "Four phases… Fine. Let's see to whom this game truly belongs."