A few hours later, he arrived at the designated meeting point—a stark, granite plaza filled with thousands of students.
Among them Jade stood calm and collected; Vera, bored; and Tiger smirking as he cracked his knuckles.
Then, as they trod through the gate in batches, a proctor in a severe uniform stepped forward, turning the chatter into a diluted silence.
"Welcome, awakened and unawakened students," the proctor's voice boomed across the plaza. "Your first trial begins now. Survival in the shattered lands."
The words sank in, chilling him to the bone as he waited to reach his batch's turn.
The moment he entered, he closed his eyes for a second, welcoming the new strange warmth in his chest. He clenched his fists, and when he opened his eyes, they were clear and steady.
The proctor's words hung in the air. The Shattered Lands. A place from nightmares and history lessons, a scar on the world where the last great war had broken.
Where the beast breeds their younglings.
A low hum filled the plaza as intricate, star-shaped symbols flared to life beneath their feet.
The granite tiles became a complex teleportation array, its light casting the students' anxious faces in a hard, blue-white glow.
Leon's heart hammered against his ribs, not just from fear, but from the strange energy simmering in his chest. It reacted to the array, a quiet thrum answering the hum around him.
He caught Tiger's eyes across the platform. The larger boy's smirk was a promise of violence no god can stop. Jade stood impassive, as if being sent to a death zone was a minor inconvenience.
Vera clung to his arm, her earlier bravado gone, replaced by genuine terror. Leon's stomach lurched; his vision blurred. It felt like being torn apart and reassembled all at once.
Then, everything turned silent.
As Leon stumbled forward, the granite floor was gone. In its place was a cracked crimson earth that crunched beneath his boots like brittle bones.
The air tasted like metal on his tongue.
The sky stretched above him, bruised purple and sickly green. No sun. No stars. Just a faint, sickly glow leaking from jagged rocks that jutted up like broken teeth.
Students shuffled around him, but he felt completely alone. The silence pressed down like a weight, heavy enough to push the air from his lungs.
Then, Mr. Lee's words echoed in his mind: 'Only the strong survive.'
A crackle of static made him jump. A small drone-like device hovering at the edge of his vision flashed a holographic message into the air in front of him.
TRIAL 1: SURVIVAL.
DURATION: 48 HOURS.
OBJECTIVE: REACH THE EXTRACTION POINT.
WARNING: THE TERRITORY IS HOSTILE.
The hologram flickered and showed a map of the terrain with a single, pulsing waypoint a kilometer away.
Then it vanished, and the drone zipped away, hovering above them like a winged being.
'48 hours? No food? No water?' Leon turned and stared at the pale faces of those walking near him.
A skittering sound, horribly familiar, came from a canyon to his left. His blood ran cold. The creatures. They were here, too.
This wasn't just a test of endurance; it was a hunting ground, and they were the prey.
The air felt thick as a chorus of screams rose like a battle hymn.
Some flared back, stamping on each other, hoping to flee from what was coming. But as Leon turned, his heart seized.
Shreds of human flesh spun through the air, scattering like burning scraps in the wind.
The sight hit him harder than any blow. For a moment he couldn't breathe. His knees trembled, begging him to collapse.
Then, a sharp, metallic stink coated his tongue, making him gag.
'No… no, no, no, no.' He tore his gaze away, forcing air into his lungs.
Relying on the fading memory of the map, he started walking, every sense screaming, the golden mark on his forehead pulsing with a rhythm that matched his terrified heart.
The first trial had begun, and there was no way back.
The holographic message appeared with more menace as Leon moved a few meters away from the shredded flesh:
PARTICIPANTS: 10000.
DEAD: 1500.
Hours bled together in a haze of thirst and paranoia. Leon's face turned pasty, lips dry like a dehydrated seabed, as he navigated the strange, twisted geography.
He skirted ridges that rippled like frozen waves and steered wide of deep crevices that exhaled foul vapors hot enough to sting his eyes.
Finding himself in a field shimmering with jagged crystals, he felt a heavy presence shifting behind him. But once he turned, he could only see the raised crystals.
Sensing an impending weight in the air as shadows stretched toward him, he sneaked behind a square-pillar crystal, waiting to confront or flee from whatever was coming.
Cracks echoed through the crystals, rattling his bones—but when he checked, no one was there.
To be sure, he scanned the crystals one last time, traced their shadows, and continued to move away for good.
Silence pressed in, broken only by the crunch of his boots and the occasional low groan of unstable stone beneath his feet.
Leon dropped twice to the ground and pressed himself flat, heart pounding in his throat, as one of the chittering aliens scuttled past.
Their five legs clicked against the ground like knives on glass, their bodies casting fractured shadows on the stone-like bones.
Multilayered eyes scanned the terrain with a cold, insectile intelligence. Though they never turned directly toward him, Leon held his breath until his chest ached.
When the creatures moved away, the landscape felt no less hostile, as if the world itself was waiting for him to falter.
Then, as he scrambled down a steep scree slope, he heard it: a sharp, startled cry, followed by the unmistakable sound of a struggle.
Quickly, Leon rushed towards the sound. Peering over a ledge, he saw her. Zoe.
She was cornered against a rock face by two hulking, wolf-like beasts with obsidian fur and glowing red eyes.
Her hands were raised, a shimmering barrier of hard light flickering between her and the beasts, but as Leon focused on the barrier, he saw it weakening with every impact.
Every instinct told Leon to run. This was a trial. Only the strong survive. Helping her would drain him, make him a target, and offer no advantage.
But he saw the genuine terror in her eyes. It wasn't like the performative cruelty of Vera; it was the raw, real fear of someone about to die.