INT. CANDIDATES' DORMITORY – NIGHT
The room is dim. Survivors whisper about the leaderboard, but silence falls as Gabriel enters, his presence filling the chamber.
Gabriel: You think you've survived because you stand here now. But survival is not earned inside these walls. Survival is only tested... inside the domain.
A murmur ripples across the room.
Candidate (angry): If you won't give us weapons, it's suicide!
Others agree, voices rising.
Gabriel lifts a hand and the noise dies instantly.
Gabriel (cold): Do not question me. This is not the first time. It is the fourth judgment upon humanity for its sins. And each time, those unworthy were erased.
The chamber falls silent, fear pressing down like chains.
Gabriel (continuing): Weapons, armor, ammunition — they will all be given inside the domain. The demons make it so. To them, this is not war. It is a battle. A tournament. They treat you... fairly.
The word fairly twists uneasily in everyone's ears.
Cassian (icy): Fair? Against millions of demons?
Gabriel: The domains are vast. You may encounter thousands, not millions. But the deeper you go, the more you will face. And the goal... is not slaughter. It is to kill the Sigils.
The survivors lean forward, listening despite themselves.
Gabriel: One of the Sigils is the creator of each domain. Kill them... and the domain collapses. The demons spill back to earth, and you return with them.
Candidate: Then tell us which one! Which Sigil is it?!
Gabriel's golden eyes narrow.
Gabriel: No one knows. Only this — it is not the Fourth through the Tenth. Those are the False Sigils, replacements for those previously slain. The power gap between the Third and the Fourth is astronomical. The target lies among the First, Second, and Third — who are likely the ones who truly control the dimensional gateways — or the true minor Sigils: the Fifth, Sixth, and Eighth.
A heavy silence follows.
Arven (thinking): So even Gabriel doesn't know... or he won't say.
Candidate: And what about weapons? What if we're given something useless?
[The Herald System]
Gabriel (voice gaining an edge): The Rank on the leaderboard is a measure of your raw potential and indomitable will. It is the theoretical power you could possess. But Hell cares only for what is manifested.
He pauses, allowing the tension to build.
Gabriel: Historically, across all previous Judgments, it is exceptionally rare for humans to survive long enough to unlock a state of power known as a Herald. Out of every thousand warriors sent, perhaps one manifests this ability. For context: over countless battles, only thirty-two Heralds have ever been recorded. And it was these thirty-two who, combined, managed to slay only twelve Sigils in total. Your Herald rank is determined by the actual, evolved power you draw from the abyss, superseding your initial Leaderboard score. Only by becoming a Herald — or perhaps more than one — will you stand a chance.
Gabriel (continuing): The weapon you receive depends on your heart. A sword, a staff, a shield, a gun — the domain reflects your truth.
Tanaka (mocking): Then what's the point of training? If demons give us weapons anyway, why let so many die in your little trials?
Gasps ripple through the room, but Gabriel only smirks faintly.
Gabriel: Good question. Tell me... if you were going to exercise, would you not warm up first? Step into a battlefield without training, and you are a burden. And burdens cause death — yours, and the man beside you.
The survivors shift uncomfortably. Even Tanaka falls silent.
Gabriel (continuing): It will take a week, perhaps longer, to end a domain. The world is too vast, the demons too many, your bodies too fragile. You will tire. You will break. So you will need supplies — food, water, medicine.
He gestures at them coldly.
Gabriel: Appoint carriers. Each team must have one. No one fights on an empty stomach.
The survivors exchange tense looks.
Candidate: And the others? The ones who escaped capture?
Gabriel's gaze sharpens.
Gabriel: Do not worry. When the portal opens, they will be dragged into Hell regardless. Even if they hide, even if they run. They will fall.
The air grows colder.
Gabriel (final): And when you fall... remember this. Gravity inside the domain is not one way. It pulls from every side. You may drop for hundreds of kilometers. Stones and jagged cliffs will rush by. Grab them, or be crushed in the abyss. Bring a parachute if you wish... but it will fail you. There is no up, down, left, or right in Hell. Only survival.
He steps back, his voice echoing through the hall.
Gabriel: Form your teams. Decide your carriers. This is your only chance.
He turns, vanishing into the shadows, leaving the survivors in stunned silence.
And in the silence, a seed was planted. A plan — fragile, desperate, but necessary. For soon, the portal would open... and they would fall.
To be continued...