The next morning, Noen slowly opened his eyes. He looked to his right, let out a loud yawn, and said, "Good morning!"
But…
nobody was there.
Noen shot upright, suddenly wide awake. Nura was gone. Only empty chains remained on the floor.
He did not even have time to get angry, because in the next second, the cell door flew open. It was Orun Dhez, the man with the thick gold chains from the day before.
"Alright, kid, on your feet!"
He yanked the chains around, trapping Noen's finger in the process.
"Ow, ow, ow! That hurts, damn it!"
Orun pulled a key from his pocket and unlocked the shackles. Noen tried to run immediately, but Orun simply stuck out his foot, and Noen went flying. Before he could move, Orun grabbed his arms, pinned them behind his back, and held them in a death grip. Noen realized there was no way out.
"Fine, fine! I'm coming!" he said as Dhez dragged him out of the cell.
They passed the altar from yesterday. It was much easier to see now. Noen stared at it for a moment before snapping, "What did you do with Nura, you damn bast—"
"None of your business," Orun said with a smirk.
"I swear, if you even lay a finger on her, I'll…"
"You'll what, kid? Huh? You'll what?" He let out a hellish laugh that echoed through the halls. "You're not gonna do a damn thing."
Noen growled. After a few minutes of walking, they stopped.
"Here, put this on!" Orun said, shoving a backpack into his hands. "You're gonna need it."
Noen threw it on and tightened the straps on both sides. Then he snapped back, "Oh yeah? Need it for whaaaa—"
The floor vanished.
The trapdoor beneath Noen's feet slammed open, and he was gone. The Sandcat was hovering hundreds of meters in the air.
The wind screamed in his ears, throwing him around like a ragdoll. He was spinning uncontrollably, the air rushing past him so fast it ripped the breath from his lungs. He tumbled through the atmosphere, catching terrifying glimpses of the massive floating fortress of Nahalith shrinking above him, followed by the sickening sight of the desert floor rushing up to meet him.
As Noen plummeted, he spotted a strange structure spread across the desert below. From that height, it was impossible to tell what it was — only a huge, jagged silhouette in the sand.
"OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD, I'M GONNA DIE! I'M GONNA DIE! AND IGNAZ ISN'T HERE TO SAVE MEEE—" Noen screamed into the void.
The ground rushed closer, a wall of certain death. He squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for the bone-shattering impact.
But suddenly, the violent pull of gravity vanished.
His descent slowed — drastically. Instead of plunging, he was gliding through the air.
"AHHHhhhh—huh?"
Noen snapped his eyes open and looked up. A parachute had automatically deployed from the backpack Orun had given him. His heart was pounding so hard it felt like it was about to leap out of his chest.
"Oh my God!" He gasped for air, his lungs burning, his mind still trying to process the fact that he was actually alive.
He looked down again, his focus shifting to the structure below. He realized he was not just landing near it — he was heading straight for its center. The facility was enormous, a sprawling labyrinth of metal and stone rising out of the dunes.
Noen hit the ground, his sneakers sinking slightly into the dry earth. He unclipped the parachute and looked around, trying to get his bearings. He had landed right in the middle of what looked like a massive training field. Everywhere he looked, there were scaffolds, bridges, and heavy weights scattered around, but not a single soul was in sight.
"Huh?" Noen muttered, sliding the backpack off his shoulders.
Suddenly, a tiny red dot flickered onto his forehead. Noen froze, his heart stopping as he immediately threw his hands into the air.
A woman emerged from the shadows of a nearby structure, walking toward him with a cold, calculated stride. A piece of wheat hung from the corner of her mouth.
"Name?" she barked.
"Noen! Please don't kill me!"
"Did Orun send you?"
"If you mean the guy who dropped me into nothing, then yeah," Noen replied, his voice shaking.
The woman closed the distance. She leaned in, pressing the barrel of her weapon directly against Noen's throat. The cold metal sent a shiver down his spine. She gestured with her chin toward a medium-sized wooden building standing a short distance away.
"So… you see that building over there?"
Noen nodded frantically, unable to squeeze out a single word as sweat gathered on his forehead.
"You're going inside there now."
"T-That's it?"
"Yep."
Noen took a few cautious steps toward the wooden building. He could feel her right behind him, the red dot now centered directly on his back as she kept her weapon aimed at him.
Noen stopped just inches from the entrance and looked back one last time. The woman tilted her head, signaling for him to go inside, her weapon still aimed at his chest. Noen swallowed hard. He leaned his shoulder into the door and pushed it inward. It was much heavier than it looked, groaning on its hinges.
When the door finally swung open, Noen froze.
He could barely believe his eyes.
The hall was packed with boys and girls, some his age, others a little older. But they were not merely standing there. They were crammed together so tightly that movement seemed impossible. It was a sea of limbs and torsos. People were draped over one another, arms and legs tangled in a claustrophobic mess. Faces were pressed against backs, elbows dug into ribs, and the air was thick, hot, and smelled of stale sweat.
Suddenly, the woman barked from behind him, her voice echoing off the wooden walls.
"MAKE ROOM, YOU BRATS!"
Not a single person said a word. A few bodies shifted, bones popping and fabric rubbing, but there was not actually any space to give.
Before Noen could protest, the woman stepped forward, grabbed him by the waist, and hoisted him into the air like a sack of grain.
"Hey, hey! Wait a seco—!"
She threw him effortlessly into the mass of bodies. Noen tumbled through the air and landed hard on a tangle of heads and shoulders. He braced himself for curses, shouting, or someone shoving him back — but nothing happened.
Just like before, not a single voice was raised. There was no complaining, no groaning. The only sound in the entire building was breathing — a heavy, rhythmic drone of hundreds of people inhaling and exhaling in desperate, quiet synchrony.
Noen lay there, pinned against the ceiling by the pressure of the bodies beneath him, his heart pounding in the silence.
–What… is going on?–