Chapter 97
ACADEMY TRIALS (3)
Amidst the endless stream of screams that echoed through the twisted forest, a lone figure tore across the underbrush—panic burning in his chest like fire.
He looked barely nineteen. His limbs moved with frantic energy, almost convulsively, as if they could carry him out of a nightmare. Brown hair clung wildly to his sweat-drenched forehead, his green eyes wide, glassy, and trembling in unblinking horror.
His lungs burned with effort, legs aching as he stumbled between roots and vines, each step driven by nothing but raw, primal fear.
His thoughts were a whirlwind of chaos, each one more panicked than the last.
Get away. Just get away.
How could they do this?
These guys... these people... they're fucking insane!
I'm going to die. I'm going to fucking die here!
These people... These fucking maniacs!
I'm going to die. I'm going to die in a damn forest!
Only minutes ago.
He had entered the forest as part of the second group. Cautious but hopeful. Tense but unprepared. They'd stepped into the vast wooded zone with wariness in their hearts, their senses alert, the air around them heavy with anticipation. Some held weapons—blades, spears, reinforced batons. Others carried nothing but themselves and their path methods, relying on skill alone. Everyone knew the trials wouldn't be easy.
Some had immediately splintered away from the group, lone wolves wanting to go solo, thinking it was smarter to avoid the competition. Some did it out of fear, others from arrogance. But no one could predict what was coming.
At that point, no one even knew what the trial really was.
No one could afford to take risks.
The young man had stayed near the back. He didn't carry a weapon. He had no blade, no shield, not even a stick. His only hope was his path—methods he had trained a thousand times. It would be enough, he had told himself.
That was before the screams started.
At first, they came from ahead—distant and muffled, like they were wrapped in fog. Then more followed, closer now. Screams of shock, of pain, of terror. It spread like a wildfire ignited in dry brush. One person gasped, another froze, then a girl screamed, panic strangling their voice, and pointed ahead with a shaking hand.
The entire group turned to follow her trembling finger.
And there, just beyond the trees, it emerged.
Even without seeing one before, the moment their eyes met it, every last person in the group knew what it was. The shape alone was enough to lock their spines in dread.
A Deadline creature.
It stood on four legs—but not animal legs. Human legs. Pale, dark-skinned,muscular, elongated and twisted. The creature had no fur, no claws, no tail—just muscle and bone stretched beneath skin that looked almost like it had been burned. Its neck was grotesquely long, like it had been pulled out of its body, and it moved with unnatural fluidity.A serpent-like neck.
At the end of that neck was a head—or what was supposed to be one. It had no face. No eyes. No ears. Just a maw—a massive mouth full of human teeth, each jagged, yellowed, and slightly off, like they had once belonged to a dozen different people.
But that wasn't the worst part.
If one looked closely at its neck—if one was brave enough to keep looking—they'd see it: the skin was covered in eyelids. Dozens. Maybe hundreds. Closed at first. And then... they opened.
Every single eye snapped open at the same time.
Pitch black irises. Whites threaded with red veins, twitching, pulsing. And worst of all—blinking. Slowly, in eerie synchrony, then rapidly, chaotically. The eyes began to look in all directions, jittering like insects beneath skin.
Then... they stopped.
All of them locked onto the group.
A paralyzing silence fell.
No one knew what level this nightmare was. No one had fought one before. But it didn't matter. Its very presence gripped their hearts with icy fingers. It didn't move. It didn't charge. It just watched.
Some began to hesitate. Some reached for weapons with trembling fingers. Others tightened grips, unsure whether to run or fight.
Then another scream tore the air apart—this one from within the group itself.
They turned in time to see it. Another Deadline creature. It had somehow gotten right up to them. It was already biting into someone's collarbone, ripping through flesh with methodical savagery. The applicant crumpled to the ground with a garbled, gurgling scream. The others could only stare in horror.
How had it gotten so close? No one had seen it. No one had heard it. It was just... there.
But there was no time to think. No time to ask questions. Because as the group began to react—as some shouted and started to form a hasty defense, thinking maybe, just maybe, two could be handled with numbers—something worse happened.
The first Deadline creature lifted its serpentine neck toward the heavens above.
Then it screamed.
A gut-churning screech that made the world twist. Like something invisible was being torn in half. A sound that made bones feel like they were vibrating in reverse.
And then from the trees... they came.
At least twenty more Deadline creatures burst through the forest like demons on fire.
They all looked similar.
Their twisted limbs galloping across the terrain with unnatural grace. They descended on the group like a pack of predators, each one letting out gurgling shrieks and twitching spasmodically as they moved.
The group shattered.
Some tried to fight. Path methods activated in a frenzy—energy, light, force, elemental bursts—all firing in every direction. One girl's arm turned to stone as she slammed her fist into one of the monsters. A boy cloaked his hands in flame. Another vanished and reappeared behind one of the things, trying to slash at its neck. Some people did well—briefly. A few landed blows. A few injured the beasts.
But most didn't.
Most were torn apart. Their screams became wet, fading cries. Blood painted the trees. One by one, the promising, the brave, the desperate were crushed, devoured, thrown like dolls. The creatures were fast. Too fast. They moved with jerky, unnatural coordination, swarming the group with a kind of sick intelligence.
The forest had become a hell.
Blood sprayed across bark. Bones cracked under foot. A man's torso hit the ground separated from his legs. Another was dragged up a tree, clawing at the bark as his screams faded into wet gurgles. Someone tried to climb a rock, only for a creature to leap and crush their skull with a sickening crunch.
And the young man had watched.
He watched the chaos explode. Watched the boy next to him impaled through the stomach by one of those necks.
That was enough.
He turned.
And ran.
Just like others who had realized that staying meant death.
His breath came in ragged gasps, heart slamming against his ribs. Sweat soaked his back, plastering his clothes to skin. His mind was a broken film reel of blood, screeches, and twitching limbs.
The stench of ruptured flesh.
Branches tore at his arms and face like claws.
Just keep going. Just keep running. I can't die here.
Then—
He slammed into something.
He tumbled to the ground, instinct screaming louder than reason. He scrambled back, hands clawing at the earth as he looked up.
But… there was nothing there.
Nothing.
Only air.
He couldn't see anything. Not a creature. Not a person. Not even a tree he could've run into.
Just… empty space.
That made it worse.
Terror flooded his body again, raw and consuming. He jumped to his feet and ran even faster, tears mixing with sweat as his thoughts shattered into panic.
Then—from behind him, barely a whisper.
A voice.
Soft. Disgusted.
"I hate this world."