The wasteland screamed.
Not with sound. With weight.
Chains tore free from the black towers, dragging arcs across the sky like serpents of molten iron. Every link dripped ash and fire, each movement grinding against bone-deep silence.
[ Trial of Chains: Commencing. ]
[ Objective: Secure a Stronghold. Time Limit: 12 hours. ]
[ Failure Condition: Party consumed by Chains. ]
The system's words carved into the air, searing them into the cadets' vision.
Arin gasped as the silver tether bound to her wrist flared violently, pulling her toward one of the towers. Do-hyun swore, golden sparks sputtering from his body as he tried to resist the pull. Ha-young's crimson chains writhed against the incoming storm, clashing violently like predators meeting kin.
And Seong-wu—
Seong-wu's golden flame surged brighter than ever. His eyes fixed not on the towers, not on the chains, but on Hae-won.
"You heard it," he said, voice sharp as a blade. "We need a stronghold. That means one leader. One narrator. And it isn't you."
Hae-won coughed blood into his palm, chest trembling from the earlier clash. His vision doubled—the Dream's endless futures whispering, collapsing, rewriting.
He saw it.
He saw them all dying under these chains.
He saw himself falling first, dragged into the stone until not even blood remained.
He saw Arin's scream, Seong-wu's flame snuffed out, Ha-young laughing even as her body broke.
And then he saw one future—thin, fragile, absurd—where they survived.
It required something none of them would ever accept.
"Shut up and move," Hae-won snarled, his voice cracking, raw. "If you want to live, follow me."
Do-hyun blinked, torn between fear and awe. Arin hesitated, hand half-reaching toward him. Ha-young tilted her head, crimson grin curling as though amused by his defiance.
Seong-wu didn't move. His blade burned hotter, chains of golden script forming around him.
"I said—"
The ground split open.
A chain the size of a fortress lunged from below, teeth of jagged steel closing where Seong-wu had stood. The wasteland groaned, towers shifting closer, like prison bars descending.
No more time.
Hae-won forced his body forward, every step dragging blood across the stone.
"Follow me, or die here. Your choice."
For a heartbeat, the others wavered.
Then—Arin ran after him. Do-hyun followed, swearing under his breath. Even Ha-young moved, smirk sharpening.
Seong-wu's golden flame flickered once. Then he followed too—
—but his gaze never left Hae-won's back.
The chains moved like predators.
They weren't mindless steel—they hunted. Each link coiled through the air with deliberate rhythm, jaws of serrated metal closing and reopening in time with the towers' groan. The wasteland itself seemed to pulse, heat rising in suffocating waves.
Hae-won ran first, lungs on fire, eyes bleeding with visions from the Dream. The path was never steady—always shifting, always folding. A thousand deaths clawed at his mind, and still he ran.
Behind him—
"Move faster!" Do-hyun shouted, his leg half-healed, sparks of lightning bursting with every stride. Each burst burned more of his stamina, but it kept him one step ahead of the snapping chains.
Arin's hand glowed faintly, sigils swirling in blue across her arm. Every few seconds she rewrote the air itself, bending space by a hair—enough to throw a chain's strike off-course, enough to drag Do-hyun's failing steps forward. Her face was pale, lips trembling, but her resolve never cracked.
Ha-young didn't run at all. She danced. Her crimson chains writhed against the black, clashing link against link, sparks painting her grin in scarlet. "Come closer," she laughed, yanking one like a whip to slam it into the ground. "Try me, you bastards!"
And Seong-wu—
His golden blade carved arcs through the dark, every strike burning with script-fire. Chains shattered under his swing, melting into ash. But for every chain he destroyed, two more writhed from the ground. He wasn't slowing them—he was provoking them.
Hae-won's teeth clenched. "Idiot—stop fighting them! They're endless!"
Seong-wu didn't answer. His golden aura flared brighter, pride burning in his stance. His answer was clear: I don't follow you.
A shadow streaked across the ground.
Hae-won's body reacted before his mind—he shoved Arin sideways, a chain snapping down where she'd stood. Metal fangs closed with a deafening crash, splitting stone. The shockwave threw him sprawling.
Pain lanced his ribs. The Dream screamed.
Five hundred futures. Five hundred ways this ended in death.
No. Not this time.
He forced his body upright, spat blood, and thrust his hand forward. His sanity burned away in strips as he pulled—
—and the chain in front of them twisted, rewrote itself, its links dissolving into dust for the span of a heartbeat.
"Run!" he roared.
The others surged past him. Do-hyun dragging his half-healed leg, Arin pulling sigils into the air, Ha-young laughing wild, Seong-wu still fighting instead of fleeing.
The wasteland answered their defiance.
The towers shook, chains shrieking louder, closing in from all sides. The entire sky seemed to descend in black steel.
And in the chaos, the system's words burned again:
[ Six hours remain. ]
[ Stronghold not yet secured. ]
[ Survivors: Five. ]
The wasteland broke open.
Through the storm of chains, a hollow appeared—a cavern's mouth carved into the side of a black tower. Light glimmered faintly inside, not golden, not divine—red.
The system's voice cracked against their skulls:
[ Candidate Stronghold Detected. ]
[ Warning: Stability Unknown. ]
Do-hyun collapsed against the edge of the cavern, lightning flickering weakly around his arms. "There—" His voice was hoarse, shredded by the run. "That has to be it!"
Arin pressed a hand against the stone, runes flaring as if to test it. She paled. "It's alive. This whole tower—it's beating like a heart."
Ha-young's smile widened. "Then we just have to tear it open, don't we?"
But before they could step inside, the chains screamed. The cavern's entrance shuddered as a dozen links crashed down, weaving together into something more than steel.
A shape rose.
It wasn't just chains anymore—it was a guardian. A warped mass of links, forming a humanoid figure, glowing eyes of molten iron staring them down.
The ground split beneath its weight.
[ Trial Extension: Guardian of the Gate has manifested. ]
[ Condition: To claim a stronghold, sacrifice must be offered. ]
The words carved themselves into their skin. Not metaphorical—Hae-won felt them burned onto his arm, letters dripping crimson like fresh wounds.
Do-hyun hissed. "Sacrifice? What the hell does that mean—"
"It means one of us," Seong-wu answered coldly, his golden aura flaring. "This trial isn't complicated. We bleed—or we're consumed."
The guardian raised its arms, chains rattling like laughter.
Arin's voice shook. "No—there has to be another way!"
But Hae-won already knew. The Dream whispered it. Five hundred regressions howled it. Every scenario wanted blood. Every scenario demanded cost.
And in that moment, he saw it—another flicker of futures, tearing his sanity in half.
• Do-hyun, broken, thrown to the guardian.
• Ha-young, offering herself with a grin that never reached her eyes.
• Seong-wu forcing the choice with his blade.
• Arin screaming, clutching his sleeve, begging—
Too many endings. All wrong.
Hae-won stepped forward, blood dripping from his hand where he dug his nails into his palm.
"If sacrifice is what it wants…" His voice trembled with exhaustion and fury. "Then I'll rewrite it."
The guardian's chains tightened. The ground quaked.
And as the others shouted his name, Hae-won let the Dream surge through him, every nerve burning, sanity unraveling—
—and reached to defy the condition itself.