A group of four girls and six guys came minutes after Percy and Barbie, all falling to the ground and collapsing as soon as they walked away from the cliff, I didn't look at them but I made them up in my peripheral vision. Another bunch of stupid idiots who united to each other wrongly, they are bound to be heartbroken because there is no way they are all making through it. By what some people said, they were the 1247th, 1249th, 1253rd, 1254th, 1255th, 1258th, 1262nd, 1263rd, 167th, and 1269th, which meant that they were a bigger group and thirteen died.
Knowing it would take a while, I leaned my back on a stone on the corner away from everyone, ignoring all the eyes I felt on me, and I closed mine, but kept all my senses tuned, the daggers that were in my boots now each in one of my hands, sharp and ready to slice some throats if needed.
1270 and 1271 died. 1272 to 5668, all survived. 5669 to 6883 all died by a group of three red dragons. 6884 to 10568 survived, more 36 to die to follow the sick pattern. 10569 to 10580 also died and so did 11086 to 11111, most to dragons.
As I expected, the last to climb alive was 11085, a total of 2223 deads.
"8888 of you were strong and resilient enough to climb up!" A men said loud enough for all of us to listen to him, his voice sending chills down my spine, the type of chills I last felt for someone who betrayed my trust and caused the fall to disgrace of my bloodline. "Congradulations, you've come this far with your own effort. Now we will reorganize you and send you to the test, with a minute a part from each other. In the test, you will have to show balance, core strength, resilience, and will power to cross the bridge, but once you get through all the obstacle that may come your way, you will be a step closer from being a rider."
I opened my eyes when his deep and raspy voice said the last part, with cruelty enough not to say it sarcastically, either that or he's some kind of sadist. And as I did, I found Percy and Barbie coming to me, behind the crowd that was all blocking the view from the men who was speaking.
"You were right," Percy said, haunted.
"How… how are you not dying? I feel like my legs will fall off," Barbie cried, offering me a hand for me to get up.
"I'll wait until I'm called to go to the bridge, I would rather restore energy for what will happen there," I told her, rejecting her hand, not wanting to get into physical contact with anyone unless it's unavoidable. As soon as I said that, Barbie dropped at my right and Percy followed at her right, both looking tired as hell, as expected. "And I'm not dying, because this was nothing, just bothersome since I'm out of shape, had I been forced to do this 5 years ago, I would have done it easily," I have done it, that was the first step into my ruin.
"We'll follow you," she sighed, resting her head in his shoulder.
Are they a couple or something? "I would rather stay alone."
"You are smarter than us both together, Grace," Percy sighed. "We'll have a better survival rate if we stick to you."
"That will get you hated by all the others," I muttered under my breath as the men began to call for the first climbers to get through the bridge. "Sticking to me will only bring you trouble. In a place where trouble gets you killed as long as you can die, which you can, you should stick to someone else."
"You'll probably come on top of our year if we get in, it's what matters."
I stared at Percy, annoyed, "I might not even get a damn dragon."
"The dragons would be stupid not to pick a Madalverel," he countered.
"You sound quite smart yourself, you'll do well on your own," I hissed.
"What? Will you kill us if we stay on your toes?" Barbie giggled tiredly.
I clenched my jaw, "I could."
"I don't think you are what hurt you, Grace," Percy said instead and I did my best not to flinch. "Just let us stick to you until we get through this, okay? We will not bother you, but you're smarter than me, I was the smartest in my orphanage and you make me look dumb. My intuition says you are better than most in here"
"You are already bothering me," I groaned, crossing my arms frustratedly, turning my attention away to them, trying to hide how knowing that they came from an orphanage messed with me, because if there's some I understand it's of loss.
The men was calling for the 28th to get in the bridge when he came to me, a guy I never met before, dagger in hand, as if he's trying to look intimidating. He was already here when I got to the 88888th step, so he's above me and Sage, whose eyes I could feel burning holes in my skin, hatred emanating from his body in high waves. "Madalverel!" The guy yelled at me, sounding quite angry.
Slowly, I glared up at him, finding a tall and pale guy with chestnut curly hair and hazel eyes, not skinny but not muscled, toned enough to show off some prior physical training. Quite bland to my taste.
"You know who I am?" I blinked, bored.
He pointed the dagger to me, "Grace Madalverel the Disgraceful!"
Quite the title, "And you are?"
Somehow, he seemed offended, "I'm Belecthor Voronwë the Black."
I frowned, "You are quite pale to call yourself the Black, mate."
"I'm not your mate," he hissed, sounding angrier.
"I'm profoundly graceful for that," I mocked.
"You owe me a blood debt," he yelled.
What the fuck? "I do what to whom now? I don't even know you!"
"Your father, Deros the Tyrant, murdered my father," he barked.
"And what did your father did to my dad to kill him?" I scoffed.
His nostrils flared and he tightened his grip on the dagger, "My father was a good men, your father visited our village and father got into an argument with him when he was in a unwell state, and your bloody father, slit his throat for that."
Unwell state? He was probably drunk, and this dude's mom lied to him to make my dad look like a monster that they made him to be. Father would never go and kill someone like, especially because he liked arguments, and people who were able to argue with him, no matter their fucking class. But so be it, he's a son who lost a father who could have been good to him, and regardless of the reason, I get that, better than anyone.
So, I stood up, barely going to the guy's jaw and he flinched, "Do it."
His eyes darkened and he frowned, "What?"
"Don't you claim that I owe you a blood debt? Come, claim it. Didn't my dad slice your father's throat? Slice mine then, that will be fair, will it not?" I've had my throat slice many times, it's not pleasant, but it's one of the wounds that my body heals the quickest.
"Have you fucking lost it?" He gasped in dismay.
Sighing, I glared at him, "Yes. Yes, I have. Now, do it already."
"What?" He took a step back, but I didn't let him back down, since he'd come so bloody confidently to claim that owed this to him. So, I grabbed his wrist that was holding the dagger and made him slice my throat open from side to side, spilling my blood everywhere. "Oh my fucking Gods," he screamed in panic.
Slowly, the crowd was taken by people horrified by what I had done, what he had done, half were speechless, the other half was screaming, Percy and Barbie on the later group, because of course they would. Covering my neck with my two hands, I ignored their noisy asses and fell to the ground, back to my seat against the rock, jaw clenched as I felt agony taking over, I coughed the blood but didn't do anything about, I allowed myself to bleed and to fell the almost-death. Letting my body take its time on healing.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing, Grace Madalverel?" That voice howled at me, this time close, so close I could feel the heat emanating from his body reaching mine, but I kept my eyes closed for a bit longer. "I asked you what,"
Is he fucking stupid? How can he expect me to speak with my throat like this?