"System's Offer Expired. Contestants Failed."
The system's voice had echoed through the camp the night before, cold and final, slicing through the group's silence like a blade. It marked the end of waiting and the beginning of something worse.
Now, under a new pale morning sun, the Cohort began its descent into the canyon.
The tents were packed, storage crates secured, and nerves frayed to a thin thread. The cliffs were steep, unforgiving, and every step downward felt like a gamble.
Before the descent, James, whose resentment toward the plan had only grown with each passing minute, had just finished confronting the Monk.
"You said we'd all pass together," he snapped. "But three of us are dead. How can we trust you now, when you say the canyon is safe?"
The Monk's expression didn't flicker. His voice, as always, was low and slow, carved from stone.
"Safe? …Not safe. The way."
Then, in an unexpected pause—rare for the silent giant—he added something else:
