Belinda stumbled forward, her chest heaving as she ran her fingers over her neck, trembling. The memory of the beast ripping her throat out was too vivid, the pain too real. Her breaths came in shallow gasps, and her hands pressed tightly against her skin, seeking reassurance. After a few moments, she let out a shaky sigh of relief. "It was just an illusion," she whispered to herself, though her voice wavered.
Arthur appeared beside her, his expression a mix of humor and relief. "Oh, shit. I thought you were dead," he said, his trademark smirk firmly in place.
Belinda turned, her face scrunching into an irritated scowl, and without warning, she swung her fist, hitting Arthur square in the groin.
Arthur crumpled immediately, falling to his knees with a strangled groan. "What the hell, woman!" he rasped, clutching himself. "I was just being nice!"
"You deserved it," Belinda snapped, glaring at him.
Meanwhile, Chase sat apart from the group, staring at the faint glow of the red sky above the hall. He hadn't moved since the illusion had ended, his expression pensive. The sword he had wielded so fiercely earlier now lay discarded beside him.
Arthur staggered to his feet, still holding his crotch as he limped toward Chase. "You... you bitch," he growled. "You let me get assaulted by that big-headed brat." He gestured at Belinda with a hand, his eyes narrowing in mock anger. "If it weren't for her looks, I'd have left her for dead!"
Chase didn't reply, his thoughts consumed by the illusion and its lingering effects. Everything felt too real—the blood, the cries, the endless waves of monsters. And yet, it wasn't. He clenched his fists. What kind of test was this?
Arthur plopped down beside him, wincing. "Hey, I'm talking to you, you aloof bastard. Don't just sit there brooding. Do you know how hard it is to get kicked in the nuts and still be this handsome?"
Chase tried to wrap his head around what Arthur just said, kicked in the nut - being handsome. How are they related, this brother is full of crap. Before Chase could reply, a slow, deliberate clap echoed throughout the hall. The sound cut through the tension like a blade, silencing everyone. Heads turned toward the source: a masked man stepping through a single door that had materialized out of nowhere.
The man's presence was commanding. His mask was simple yet eerie, painted white with crimson markings that seemed to shift in the dim light. Behind him, a group of figures emerged—those who had been swallowed by the ghastly hand during the illusion.
Belinda gasped, spotting Carter immediately. His towering frame was unmistakable, his expression as stoic as ever. "Carter!" she called, stepping forward, but a single motion from the masked man froze her in place.
"Do not move," the man commanded, his voice calm but heavy with authority.
The newcomers lined up beside the masked man, their wrists glowing faintly with yellow bands. Belinda glanced down and noticed a similar band around her own wrist—but hers was blue. Others among the survivors also sported blue bands. Those who had made it through without "dying" during the illusion bore red bands.
Chase glanced at his wrist and found a stark black band wrapped around it. Its color seemed to absorb the light, standing out ominously.
The masked man clapped again, ensuring he had everyone's attention. "The tests are over," he began, his voice resonating across the hall. "You have all been marked based on your performance." He gestured toward the bands. "These bands will dictate your privileges going forward. Yellow bands signify the lowest level of privilege. Blue bands represent slightly higher status. Red bands indicate superior performance. And as for the black band..."
All eyes turned to Chase, who remained motionless, his expression unreadable.
"The black band signifies the highest level of privilege," the man finished.
A murmur swept through the crowd, a mix of envy, confusion, and resentment. Arthur leaned toward Chase, whispering, "Lucky bastard. What did you do to get that?"
Chase didn't respond, his gaze fixed on the masked man.
The man raised a hand, silencing the whispers. "Do not bother attempting to steal someone else's band. They cannot be removed, and any attempt to tamper with them will result in your immediate disqualification—and death."
A girl with a red band raised her hand hesitantly. The masked man nodded at her.
"Sir," she began, her voice trembling slightly. "What privileges are you referring to?"
The masked man's eyes, hidden behind his mask, seemed to pierce through her. "You will discover them in due time," he said simply.
The girl frowned but didn't press further, stepping back into the crowd.
Another hand shot up, this time from a girl with a yellow band. "Is there any way to increase our level?" she asked, her tone filled with desperation.
The masked man regarded her for a moment before nodding. "Yes," he said. "Your overall performance during training and subsequent tests will determine your progression. Those who excel will rise. Those who falter..." He didn't need to finish. The implication was clear.
A wave of relief washed over the yellow-banded individuals. Many of them had been unlucky, caught off guard during their first test despite their abilities. The prospect of redemption spurred murmurs of hope and determination.
Belinda looked down at her blue band, her expression a mix of frustration and resolve. Arthur, rubbing his bruised groin, leaned over to her. "Cheer up, princess. At least you're not yellow," he said with a smirk.
She glared at him but didn't retaliate this time. Her focus was on Carter, who stood silently among the yellow-banded group, his gaze distant.
Meanwhile, Chase remained apart from the group, his thoughts clouded. The black band on his wrist felt like a curse rather than a reward. What had he done to deserve it? He clenched his fists, determined to find answers.
The masked man clapped once more, drawing their attention. "Rest now. Your training will begin tomorrow"
As he turned to leave, the hall began to shift and distort, the walls rippling like water. A new trial awaited, and none of them were prepared for what lay ahead.