Two hours had passed, yet Ray and Stephen were no closer to finding a clue. The jungle maze stretched endlessly around them, its oppressive atmosphere weighing heavily on their spirits.
"This is so tiring," Stephen muttered, wiping sweat from his brow, his steps faltering slightly.
Ray, equally exhausted but determined, glanced at him. "You're holding up well for someone who just fought off a swarm of giant bees. But seriously... where did you learn to fight like that?"
Stephen exhaled sharply, a faint smile flickering across his face. "Ah, I forgot to mention that, huh? Well..." He paused, his expression shifting as if remembering something deeply personal.
"My parents taught me," Stephen began, his voice steady but tinged with sadness. "Both of them were martial artists—masters, really. Boxing, Karate, CQC. They wanted me to be ready for anything, to protect myself and the people I care about."
Ray nodded, intrigued but sensing there was more beneath the surface. "They sound like incredible people."
Stephen's faint smile disappeared, replaced by a shadow of grief. "They were. But... they're gone now. They were killed ten years ago."
Ray froze mid-step, his breath hitching. "Killed? By what?"
Stephen clenched his fists, his gaze hardening. "Not just any monster. It was a high-grade one. A Cthulhu."
The name hit Ray like a thunderclap. His heart raced as the pieces fell into place. "Wait... ten years ago? The Great Disaster? In the Philippines?"
Stephen said nothing, his silence confirming Ray's suspicions.
The Great Disaster was a cataclysmic event that had ravaged the Philippines a decade ago. An entire nation plunged into chaos as its cities crumbled, swallowed by an inexplicable force. Millions perished, and those who survived were forever haunted by the horrors they witnessed. Speculations abounded—some blamed rogue high-grade monsters, others ancient curses—but no one knew the truth.
Ray's voice dropped, tinged with disbelief. "You mean... your family was caught up in that?"
Stephen nodded, his jaw tightening. "We were there, at the epicenter. But what no one knows—what no one else could know—is the truth about what happened that day."
Ray's brow furrowed. "You mean, you know what caused it? What really happened?"
Stephen's eyes darkened, his voice lowering to a near-whisper. "It wasn't just chaos or random destruction. It was deliberate. The creature responsible wasn't an ordinary monster—it was a being from another plane. A god in its own right. Cthulhu."
Ray stared at him, stunned. "How do you know for sure?"
Stephen hesitated, the memory visibly weighing on him. "Because it spoke to me," he finally said, his tone flat, devoid of emotion. "Not in words, but in thoughts. It invaded my mind, showed me things no one should ever see. It called itself Cthulhu, and it left me with the knowledge of what it truly is—a force beyond anything we can comprehend."
The air between them grew heavy, the revelation sending chills down Ray's spine.
"And you've kept this to yourself? All these years?" Ray asked, his voice quiet.
Stephen nodded. "What good would it do to tell anyone? No one would believe me, and even if they did, what could they do against something like that? My parents... they tried to fight it. They gave everything they had. And they failed."
Ray felt a deep pang of sympathy for Stephen but also a newfound respect. For ten years, Stephen had carried the weight of this horrifying truth, shouldering it alone while training to ensure he'd never feel powerless again.
"I'm sorry, Stephen. I didn't know," Ray said sincerely.
Stephen forced a small, hollow smile. "It's fine. I've made my peace with it. But that's why I'm here, why I fight. I won't let their sacrifice be for nothing."
Ray nodded solemnly, the gravity of Stephen's words resonating deeply within him. For the first time, he saw the raw, unshakable determination that drove Stephen forward.
As they walked further into the labyrinthine maze, Ray broke the silence. His curiosity, now mixed with a touch of reverence, compelled him to ask, "Stephen... you said your family didn't make it. But how did you survive something like that? How did you escape?"
Stephen's steps slowed, his gaze drifting to the ground as if searching for answers in the dirt. "The truth is," he began, his voice distant, "I don't know."
Ray blinked, surprised. "You don't know? You mean... nothing at all?"
Stephen shook his head, a faint shadow of frustration crossing his face. "I remember fragments. Fire everywhere, the sky turning black, the ground shaking... and that thing—its voice in my head. After that... nothing. It's all a blank."
Ray furrowed his brow. "Then how did you..."
Stephen interrupted, his tone somber. "I woke up days later, washed ashore in Thailand. A fisherman found me. He said I was barely alive, clinging to a broken piece of wood. He and his family nursed me back to health."
Ray stayed silent, letting him continue.
Stephen's voice softened, a rare warmth slipping into his words. "That fisherman became the closest thing to a father I've ever had since then. He raised me as his own. Taught me everything he knew—not just about survival, but about life, about discipline. And martial arts."
"Martial arts?" Ray asked, intrigued.
Stephen nodded. "Yeah. He was a master in his own right. Boxing, Karate, Muay Thai—you name it. He wasn't just teaching me how to fight; he was teaching me how to stand up, how to endure, how to move forward no matter how heavy the burden."
Ray looked at Stephen with newfound respect. "So that's why you fight the way you do. That's why you're so good."
Stephen smiled faintly. "If I'm good, it's because he believed I could be. He always said I had the spirit of a fighter, even when I didn't see it myself."
"Do you still keep in touch with him?" Ray asked.
Stephen's face darkened slightly. "No. He passed away a few years ago. Old age, nothing dramatic. But before he died, he told me I had to forge my own path. That's why I'm here, taking this exam. It's my way of honoring him—and my parents."
Ray nodded, the weight of Stephen's story settling over him like a heavy cloak. For someone who had faced so much loss, Stephen carried himself with a quiet resilience that Ray couldn't help but admire.
"Your master sounds like an incredible man," Ray finally said.
"He was," Stephen replied simply, his tone steady. "And everything I do is to make sure I live up to what he taught me."
They continued walking, their bond deepened by the shared silence that followed. But Ray couldn't shake the thought of Stephen's story—of the mysterious force that spared him and the chance encounter that had shaped his future. In the back of his mind, Ray knew there was more to Stephen's survival than mere luck, but he chose not to press further.
For now, survival in the maze was challenge enough.
------10 minutes later....
The eerie silence of the jungle maze was abruptly shattered by a disembodied, mechanical voice echoing through the air:
"Examinee 112, eliminated."
The announcement cut through the humid air, sending a chill down Ray's spine. He paused mid-step, exchanging a glance with Stephen, whose sharp eyes scanned their surroundings for any sign of trouble.
Before they could process the first elimination, the voice continued.
"Examinee 145, eliminated. Examinee 132, eliminated. Examinee 147, eliminated."
Ray's stomach churned as the numbers piled up, the mechanical voice relentless. Name after name, the count climbed higher, a grim reminder of how brutal this test truly was.
From a distance, they saw faint bursts of light flickering in the maze. Examinees were being enveloped by a glowing aura, and then, in the blink of an eye, they were gone. Not gone in the sinister sense—no dust, no destruction—just transported out of the maze entirely, as if some unseen hand had plucked them away.
"They're being eliminated," Stephen muttered, his tone low and grim. "One mistake, and you're out of the exam entirely."
Ray swallowed hard, his gaze fixed on the empty spots where the examinees had once stood. "So, they're just... gone? Back outside the arena?"
Stephen nodded. "Yeah. It's not a death sentence, but it might as well be if you're aiming to pass. You mess up, you're done."
Ray's fists clenched. The stakes felt more real now than ever. This wasn't just a game. It was a brutal filter, sifting out anyone who couldn't keep up with the relentless pressure.
The voice droned on, calling out more numbers. Each one felt like a drumbeat in Ray's chest, a countdown to his own possible failure.
"Over half are gone," Stephen noted, his voice steady but tense. "We've got to stay focused. No mistakes."
Ray nodded, his jaw tight. The maze seemed to grow even more oppressive, the air thick with tension. He couldn't let his nerves get the better of him. Not now.
They moved cautiously, the numbers still echoing in their minds. Ray couldn't help but wonder if the maze itself was testing more than just their abilities. It was testing their resolve, their ability to keep moving forward under pressure.
One thing was clear—there was no room for error.
As the two crouched behind a dense thicket of foliage, the distant sounds of rustling leaves and guttural growls filled the air. The oppressive silence between those noises was almost worse, as if the maze itself was holding its breath. Ray shifted uncomfortably, his back pressed against the rough bark of a tree.
He glanced at the glowing number displayed on his suit, hovering faintly above his wrist like a hologram. "5020," he muttered under his breath. The number felt significant somehow, as if it were more than just an identifier. "Last one to enter, huh?"
Curiosity got the better of him, and he turned to Stephen, who was peeking cautiously through the undergrowth, keeping an eye on the roaming shadows of monsters nearby. "Hey, Stephen," Ray whispered, keeping his voice low. "What's your number?"
Stephen glanced back, his expression calm despite the tension in the air. He raised his wrist slightly, revealing the faint glow of his number: 349.
"349," Ray repeated, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "You're one of the early ones, then. I guess we're from opposite ends of the list."
Stephen smirked faintly, though his focus remained sharp. "Yeah, you could say that. But it doesn't mean much if we both end up eliminated, right?" His tone was light, but the weight of the situation was clear in his eyes.
Ray nodded, his fingers instinctively brushing against the 4th-dimensional ring on his hand, feeling the faint warmth of its embedded technology. The sound of a distant growl made his pulse quicken, and he whispered, "Do you think they can sense us?"
Stephen shook his head. "Not unless we move recklessly. These things might look savage, but they're predators. They'll pounce on the weakest sign of life. If our vitality drops too much during a fight…"
"...we're out," Ray finished grimly. He could already imagine the voice coldly announcing their elimination, their suits lighting up before they disappeared from the maze.
"Exactly," Stephen said, his voice calm but firm. "We can't afford a direct fight unless we have no choice. Not with those things."
The low growls and shuffling noises grew louder, and both of them instinctively pressed further into the shadows. Ray's breath was shallow, his hand hovering over his ring. He prayed silently that they wouldn't be forced to test their luck against the monsters lurking just a few meters away.
In that moment of shared silence, Ray couldn't help but feel the weight of their fragile alliance. Two examinees from vastly different backgrounds, each holding on to their own reasons for fighting to stay in this brutal exam.
"Just stay quiet," Stephen muttered, his voice barely audible. "And when we move, stay close."
Ray nodded, gripping the resolve in his chest as tightly as he did his thoughts of survival.