Grimm crouched slightly, eyes fixed on the glowing tiles beneath his feet.
He had only played this game a few times in his old life.
Numbers gave hints, empty squares were safe, and the wrong guess meant everything was over.
Here, the symbols replaced numbers, and the lighted grid stretched ahead like a giant puzzle waiting to be solved.
He took a step forward again.
Another mark flared beneath his sole, connecting to the ones behind.
This one curved differently, almost like a warning.
He stopped and looked carefully at the tiles surrounding it.
If this really works like what i thought, then this symbol means there's danger close by. I can't just step blindly.
He crouched lower, using his hands to hover just above the tiles without touching them.
He memorized the way the first few symbols connected.
If the first tile had been "empty," the second one felt like it was hinting at something near.
The safest option would be to test the path slowly, always moving to the tile that gave the least resistance in its glow.
So he shifted left.
The tile lit up with another symbol, this one plain and thin, almost like a line. Grimm exhaled.
'That's safe. Probably means nothing dangerous nearby.'
He moved again, now forward. Another mark appeared, similar to the first warning-like one.
His lips pressed together. So there's danger close. If this was the real game, I'd mark this in my head as touching a mine.
From there, he started mapping it out in his head. If one tile glowed faintly, he assumed it meant "safe." If the symbol bent or sharpened, he treated it like a number showing how close he was to danger.
Slowly, step by step, he built a mental image of the floor ahead.
He didn't rush. Each move was deliberate. Forward, then sideways. Left again, then carefully diagonally.
He marked his mistakes only in his head, replaying the game rules as best as he remembered.
It took him minutes, maybe longer... time blurred in the silence. But eventually, the pattern of glowing tiles formed a narrow, clear trail stretching all the way to the end of the corridor.
He looked back once, the chain of symbols behind him glowing faintly like a map only he could read.
Grimm straightened, wiped the sweat forming at the corner of his temple, and muttered under his breath.
'Good thing I didn't play carelessly.'
Then he walked forward, following the path he had solved.
Grimm stepped out from the passage, his chest still rising and falling from the careful pacing he had forced upon himself.
The scenery opened up into what looked like a gathering hall, far different from the stone corridors before.
The floor was smooth, almost polished, and strange lights hummed faintly from above, illuminating the wide space.
A few children were already there, sitting or standing with uneasy expressions.
Some clutched at shallow cuts on their arms or legs, proof that the trial hadn't gone smoothly for all of them.
Grimm counted quickly—he was the seventh one.
That thought pressed against him.
'I was too slow. They figured it out faster. How smart are these kids, really?'
He tightened his jaw but didn't let it show. Instead, he quietly moved to the side, watching, listening, learning.
Time dragged. More children trickled in, some limping, some pale from fear. Then, after what felt like half an hour, a figure appeared.
A tall man dressed in black robes stepped into the center of the hall, his face hidden behind a crow-shaped mask. His voice carried sharply through the air.
"Congratulations," he said, his tone flat, almost mocking.
"You survived. Now begins the real work. From here on, you will learn to sharpen not just your bodies, but your minds. Knowledge and strategy will become your weapons."
The masked man paused, letting his words sink in. Then he added, "The stone you touched earlier revealed what path lies before you. That is why you are here, in Sector B. You belong to the domain of the mind."
Grimm stiffened slightly at that.
'Mind domain?'
The words rang strange in his head. It meant nothing to him, not yet. But from the way the man spoke, it was clearly important.
Still, Grimm kept his questions buried. Better to stay silent, observe, and gather information piece by piece.
For now, he simply blended in among the others.
Grimm listened, shoulders tense, as the man in the crow mask spoke again. His voice carried the weight of authority, sharp and unyielding.
"Call me Crow," the man said.
"You will remember that name."
Then he began to explain.
"Ael is the essence that lingers in all life. It can be harnessed to enhance the body, the mind, or the soul itself. In time, it must be gathered and stored within your soul core—but none of you have a core yet."
Grimm's brows knit faintly. 'Enhance the body, the mind, or the soul?'
He felt a spark of curiosity, but also unease. He didn't even know what a soul core was supposed to be. Still, he kept quiet. Better not to draw attention.
Crow continued, his voice sharp as a blade.
"Before you can begin, you will face a test. Only by fighting against an awakened beast will you glimpse the truth of Ael."
He raised his gloved hand and snapped his fingers.
—snap!
The sound was crisp, almost mocking. In the blink of an eye, the hall around them dissolved.
The smooth tiles, the cold glow of strange lights—all of it melted away like smoke. Grimm blinked once, twice, and the world was entirely different.
Snow. Endless snow. The wind howled and bit against his skin, as if it were real.
His eyes widened. 'An illusion? No—it feels too real. How quick was that…?'
The children huddled instinctively, their breaths fogging in the cold. Crow stood unaffected, his presence looming like a shadow in the storm.
"You," Crow said, pointing at a boy near the edge.
The child stiffened. He couldn't have been much older than Grimm, yet his body was thin, scarred, his arms wrapped with half-healed wounds.
There was no chance for rest, no mercy given.
The boy swallowed hard but stepped forward, snow crunching beneath his bare feet.
"Stand in the middle," Crow commanded.
The child obeyed, trembling but firm, standing alone in the white expanse.
Then the snow stirred. From the mist, a shape emerged... low, sleek, and powerful.
A wolf, its fur the color of ash, eyes glowing with a feral light. Each step it took left prints that steamed faintly in the snow, heat rising from its awakened form.
Grimm felt his heart clench at the sight.
'They're really making us fight that!?'
The wolf lowered its head, teeth bared, as the first trial began.
The boy stood frozen in the snowfield, legs shaking like sticks in the wind. His lips parted, but no sound came. The wolf didn't wait.
Crunch—
It lunged. The child let out a half-scream, half-whimper before fangs sank into his shoulder.
His small frame collapsed under the weight, his arms flailing uselessly. Grimm's breath caught in his throat.
The wolf tore at him without pause, claws raking across his chest, teeth ripping flesh apart.
A shriek cut the air, high and broken, before it died into a choking gurgle. Blood spattered across the white snow, steaming against the cold.
When the beast finally wrenched back, Grimm's eyes widened in horror.
The boy's insides spilled onto the ground—red, glistening, too vivid against the white. The sound of tearing was wet, revolting. Grimm's stomach lurched.
'—Hrrk'
He bent forward, hand pressing over his mouth. He swallowed down bile, the taste of iron rising in his throat.
The wolf stood over the body, muzzle dripping with crimson. Crow didn't even look at the corpse. He raised his hand and pointed again.
"You," he said coldly.
This time it was a girl. She couldn't have been older than Grimm, her face pale and streaked with tears. She shook her head desperately, voice cracking.
"N-No! Please, I can't—I can't—"
Her knees buckled, and she clung to the snow as if it could shield her. Crow's masked face tilted ever so slightly.
"Refusal," he said.
Snap!
The sound was sharp. A heartbeat later, the girl's head burst apart.
Splshh—!
Blood and fragments sprayed outward like a broken melon, spattering the snow, staining the white into grotesque red.
Grimm felt the warm droplets hit his cheek, his arm, even his lips. The children around him screamed, recoiling in terror.
He stood rigid, trembling.
His vision blurred with rage. His gut twisted, not from fear alone, but fury.
'These monsters…! They kill children like nothing!'
He clenched his fists so tight his nails bit into his palms. Hatred swelled inside him, raw and heavy.
'I'll survive. I'll endure every game, every trial. And when the time comes… I'll kill this piece of shit!'
His dark eyes burned as he stared at Crow's mask.