Somewhere deep within the woods, a figure loomed over three students sprawled motionless on the ground.
Its presence was unsettling. A long tail swayed behind it, an unnatural sight in this world. Its body shimmered in shades of bluish-green, shifting toward purple under the dim light. Twin eyes gleamed with a strange mix of green and violet, while its face glowed faintly, as though scattered with sparks.
The creature flexed its claws until they crunched, then crouched beside one of the students; a girl. Its voice was low, almost bored, as it muttered, "I've been at this for over five minutes. It seems none of these students brought their spirits into the woods."
It straightened, stretching out a hand. "I suppose we'll need to change the approach. But first… I should report to my Master."
The air rippled. Its form began to shift.
In moments, the monstrous shimmer faded, replaced by the body of one of the boys lying unconscious at its feet. Long black-green hair, tied neatly behind his head. Thin-framed glasses, the creature picked them up delicately and slid them onto its new face.
Clothing followed the transformation: a green pair of trousers, a yellowish shirt, a gray jacket, and a hooded layer beneath.
The disguise complete, it turned without hesitation and walked away into the trees.
—
Kuzen burst back into the clearing, breathing quick from the monstrous bellow that had rolled through the woods. His eyes darted first to Othrena slumped against a tree, one hand pressed to her bandaged side. Then to Grimbell, who now sat on the ground with his arms bound tight behind his back, his face red and streaked with dirt from struggling.
"What happened to him?" Kuzen demanded, striding closer, the tension in his voice edged with disbelief.
Othrena lifted her gaze, sharp and unwavering despite the strain written across her pale features. "He wouldn't shut up," she said, voice clipped. "He kept thrashing, screaming for the name of the guy he was talking to earlier. I wasn't about to waste what little strength I have chasing him through the forest." She tugged the rope once, making Grimbell flinch slightly. "So I made sure he stayed put."
Her tone was final, like the crack of a blade being sheathed. The weight of her words left no room for argument.
Kuzen, unsurprised, gave a small nod. "You did the right thing," he said, his tone steady. "This squirm can be a handful, always a pain to handle. Thank you for holding him down." His eyes shifted toward the ropes, then back to Othrena. "But… where's the other guy who was with you?"
Still leaning against the tree, Othrena's lips tightened. "He went after the sound, I haven't seen him since. Although, it's been a while now since that bellow went quiet."
Kuzen lowered himself beside Grimbell, crouching so their faces were level. "Then we'll follow that way, see what we find." He gave Grimbell a shake. "On your feet."
But there was no response. Grimbell's head lolled, his breath shallow. He had slipped into unconsciousness. With a sigh, Kuzen slid his arms beneath him and lifted him up more gently this time, as though the anger that once drove his grip had cooled.
Behind him, Othrena pushed herself upright, wincing as she slung her bag over one shoulder. She adjusted her weight to her good leg, then started forward with a limp, the ropes on her arm that bound her to Grimbell brushing the fabric of her sleeve.
Kuzen fell in step behind her, carrying Grimbell in silence as the shadows of the woods thickened around them.
—
Far from the woods, in a chamber veiled in dim light, a young man knelt on one knee. His head was bowed low, his posture rigid with submission. He was no student at all, but an impostor; one who had stolen the identity of a boy with long black-green hair and thin-framed glasses.
"Master," he said, voice steady but laced with unease, "none of the students seem to have brought their spirits into the woods. I tried to extract their techniques, but there was nothing, no trace of spiritual presence. It's possible the academy changed the rules of the selection this year."
Before him, the one he addressed did not reply at once. The figure stood in silence, facing a vast glass panel that reflected only darkness. Within its depths, black smoke writhed and coiled, spiraling in endless patterns like a living void. Slowly, the figure turned away from the glass and toward a wall of monitors.
Each screen flickered with pale light, displaying different corners of the forest. Every student's struggle was captured in shifting frames, as though their lives were being watched like pieces on a board.
"I give you the power to take on any identity," the Master's voice cut through the chamber, low and scathing. "And you dare mock me with it? Tell me, what do you think you're doing, wearing that body in front of me?"
The young man flinched. His disguise wavered, then melted away like smoke in the air. Flesh dissolved, fabric vanished, until what remained was his true form: a creature with skin shimmering bluish-green, hues shifting toward violet under the dim light. A long tail swayed restlessly behind him, betraying the tension in his body.
"Forgive me, Master…" His voice was strained, each word dragged with the weight of fear. The way he spoke made it clear this was not respect, but terror.
The Master tilted his head slightly, the shadows clinging to him thickening like smoke. "Is that so?" he murmured, a dangerous quiet in his tone. "Then why do I sense you still have something to say, Naoji?"
"Forgive me, Master," Naoji stammered, his head still bowed. "It's about Drazel. He hasn't fed in days. Even when I offer, he refuses. I only ask… would you allow him at least the blood of one of the students?"
The words had barely left his lips when something unseen gripped him. A crushing pressure tore through his body, like invisible claws sinking into his chest. Heat flared under his skin, searing from the inside out until it felt as though fire had replaced his blood. His ribs cinched, his throat tightened, and the air in his lungs was forced out in ragged gasps. The weight of the world itself seemed to pin him to the ground, gravity turned cruel.
Above him, the figure he called Master finally moved. He turned, slowly, and the dim light caught his face. What looked back at Naoji was not human.
His long purple hair hung straight to his neck, tied neatly into a small ponytail. His skin was pale, smooth as porcelain, yet disturbingly lifeless. He wore a fitted black suit, the coat absent, the shirt buttoned to the very top, collar tight as a noose. But it was his eyes glowing, veins of pinkish-red threading across his irises that locked Naoji in terror. Even his ears, human at first glance, tapered to points that betrayed something other.
As he turned fully, veins spread across his face like living cracks in stone. His expression fractured, twisting, no longer bound to anything mortal.
"Are you…" his voice was a cold, deliberate rasp, "…trying to tell me what to do, Naoji?"
"F–forgive me, Master…" Naoji choked out between clenched teeth, every word dragged through fire as the unseen pain surged inside him. His body trembled, bowing even lower until his forehead nearly touched the floor. "I wasn't… trying to tell you what to do. But—" his breath caught, throat straining, "Drazel… he's the one maintaining the three barriers… and the 'Phantom Hall Domain' within. If even one falters because of his weakness, then someone outside might interfere… with your game, Master."
A silence heavier than the crushing force settled over the chamber. Then, the Master's voice came calm, yet laced with venom.
"Watch your tongue, Naoji," he said, each syllable slow and deliberate, as if savoring the threat. "This may be the last time you get to use it. If Drazel has grown that weak, I'll dispose of him myself."
Naoji's head snapped in a quick nod, his words tumbling out in haste. "Y–yes, Master."
"If there are no spirits and you cannot take their techniques," the Master said, his voice low but cutting, "then you know what must be done if Vyamranshi fails to claim them."
"Yes, Master." Naoji forced the words out quickly, bowing once more. He rose to his feet, retreating with careful steps before turning fully. In a shimmer of air, he vanished through an invisible door, leaving the chamber in silence.
The Master's eyes narrowed. "Tell me… where is Vyamranshi?"
The question did not echo to anyone visible. Perhaps the one he addressed was hidden, cloaked in the same shadows that swirled at his back. Yet some answer came, unheard by all but him, and it drew a slow, curling smile to his lips.
He shifted toward the wall of monitors. Flickering light spilled across his pale face as his gaze wandered across the students. His eyes paused on Aria, perched high on a branch, her silhouette outlined by dimlight. He studied her intently, as though weighing her against the memory of someone else.
Then his gaze slid to another screen; Liana and Mira, nestled together beneath a trunk, asleep, clutching one another for warmth. For a moment, the Master said nothing, his expression unreadable.
One by one, his eyes swept across the rest of the students, lingering on each with a predator's patience, as though silently debating who, among them, was truly worth his attention.
"I will bring you out… no matter what." The words slipped from his lips in a murmur, almost tender, though his gaze was fixed on the monitor where my motionless body lay framed in pale light.
For all his human shape, there was nothing human about him. His presence carried an emptiness that bent the air, a cold reminder of what he truly was.
He was Thirty-Five.
—
In the woods, Aria perched high on a branch, her legs tucked close as she leaned against the trunk. Her eyes drifted down to the still body lying on the ground below. For a moment she watched in silence, then slowly lifted her gaze, scanning the canopy and the spaces between the trees. Nothing stirred. The forest seemed calm, almost deceptively so too normal for the unease knotting inside her.
Is this really the academy's doing? The thought pressed heavy in her mind. First, they send us into the woods without our spirits, leaving us defenseless against Netherkins. And now students are actually dying. This isn't some illusion, it's real.
Her hands tightened against the bark, nails scraping. These games… they don't give us the knowledge we need to face the Netherkins. Then what's the point?
A shiver crawled down her spine. What if this isn't the academy at all? What if someone has invaded the selection?
While Aria spiraled deeper into her thoughts, a prickle of instinct jolted her back. Her ears caught the faint crunch of footsteps below, too close. Someone was crouching near the still body on the ground, a hand reaching out.
"Hey." Her voice was low but sharp as she leveled a slingshot, stone pulled taut.
Kuzen's head jerked up. He hadn't even sensed her above him. One arm rose in reflex, the other shifting to keep Grimbell steady, the unconscious boy slung over his shoulder like dead weight.
Aria's eyes narrowed. "What exactly are you trying to do to him?"
"Sorry," Kuzen said quickly, lifting his free hand, his tone edged with surprise. "I didn't notice you there. I just wanted to check if he's okay. Since he left… he hadn't come back. Is he alive?"
Aria held her aim steady, eyes locked on him, searching for the flicker of a lie. "Is he part of your team?"
"Yes," Kuzen replied, sharper this time, without hesitation.
For a long breath she studied him, then slowly eased the slingshot down. "He's alive," she muttered under her breath. "Just unconscious."
Behind Kuzen, Othrena stepped into view, leaning on her bad leg. Her eyes flicked briefly toward the still body on the ground, just a flash of worry breaking through her otherwise stern expression.
Kuzen's gaze drifted left, catching sight of two girls curled together beneath a fallen trunk, fast asleep. He glanced back up at Aria, perched high above.
"Do you mind if we stay here for a while?" he asked, adjusting Grimbell's weight on his shoulder. "At least until he wakes up… and until that so-called Thirty-Five decides to speak."
Aria's eyes shifted aside, her voice quiet but even. "Be my guest."
Kuzen bent slightly, ready to lower Grimbell to the ground – and then a rush of motion cut the air.
Aria dropped from her perch without warning, her body plummeting fast. She struck the earth with a brutal thud, the impact snapping through the silence of the woods.
Othrena and Kuzen froze. The forest was gone.
The world around them had warped into a vast hallway cloaked in shadow. Jagged carvings crawled across the stone walls, twisting in patterns that almost seemed to move when stared at too long. The passage stretched straight ahead, endless, yet branching corridors opened off it like the ribs of some colossal beast. The infinity maze.
"What… is going on?" Othrena whispered, her voice taut with unease.
"I'm as surprised as you are," Kuzen muttered, his eyes darting from wall to wall as though the stone itself might shift again.
A groan broke their focus. Aria pushed herself upright, wincing as she steadied her breath. Her wide eyes swept the corridor. "This… isn't the woods anymore."
The air suddenly trembled. From both ends of the hallway, sharp, piercing screams split the silence, shrieking closer with terrifying speed. The sound scraped against the stone, echoing as if the maze itself carried the voices.
Aria clenched her jaw, muttering under her breath, "Now what?"