The shadowy figure raised a hand and motioned for silence. My chest tightened, and my mouth went dry.
How will I survive in this competition? And the haunting question lingered: Who killed me?
I dug my fingernails into my palms as I fought so hard knowing the test was about to begin any moment from now. What would test be about? Is it physical? Yes, I go to the gym and I try as much as possible to attend defence classes but my strength was my brain. I let out a shaky breath.
I whispered "Let's begin."
"You are about to enter a harsh, desolate landscape—a barren desert that stretches endlessly in every direction. You will reach a distant checkpoint. Along the way, you would meet people who would need your help. How you responded would determine your standing." The giant figure announced.
"Great," I muttered under my breath. The last thing I wanted was to play the good Samaritan. In my life, people had always been tools—resources to manipulate.
Now, I was being asked to help them? No. I would get to that checkpoint first, no matter what.
The figure waved its hand and suddenly, the environment changed, my boots sunk slightly into the ground. I looked down to see fine sand. That's quick. I thought.
The endless heaps of sand stretched before me, the scorching sun bearing down, the dry air burning my throat. The quiet atmosphere was filled with softly blowing wind. The others spread out across the barren land, their faces showing fear.
I kept my eyes forward. The best thing for me would be ignoring the other competitors trying to get ahead too. As far as I was concerned, they were potential obstacle.
"Just get to the checkpoint," I whispered to myself, pushing through the heat that felt like it was trying to suffocate me. My strategic thinking kicked in.
But then I heard it—a weak cry carried by the wind, coming from my left. My stomach twisted. There was a young guy that had fallen on the ground, stretching his hand towards me like a beggar. He had desperate eyes.
"Hmmm," I bit the insides of my cheeks as he struggled to pull himself across the burning sand. Are these of the competitor that'd need help?
The guy had fallen. He outstretched his hand as his face squeezed from pain. If he can't even handle this, he's a liability. A flicker of fear ran through me. What if that were me?
But no. Helping him could slow me down, make me vulnerable. My father always believed that being sentimental was a sign of weakness.
Better to stay focused on the checkpoint. I hardened my heart as the sound of his pleas fading behind me.
So I pushed through the heat. I wiped the sweat dripping down my back as I noticed something that shimmered—wait, it was a distortion in the heat smoke rising from the endless expanse of sand. I squinted.
"What's that?" I wondered, covering my face from the sun to see the distance. The shimmer became a solid shape. It was a structure of some sort, rising out of the desert like a crooked tooth.
I went on.
But then a shadow of movement caught my eye. I turned, squeezing my eyes against the crazy sun only for me to see another competitor half-buried under a pile of rocks. Her body was pinned awkwardly.
"Help! Please!" she cried.
"What's all these?" I wondered. I should be gunning for the checkpoint not constantly getting distracted by some helpless runt.
I hissed. At this point, I wasn't sure of the stupid challenge was a physical one or some moral test bullshit. Nonsense!
We were in the underworld so it wouldn't be surprising.
"Use your legs!"
The girl's eyes widened and she shook with tears. I wasn't in a position to be anyone's savior. Not here.
"Keep going!" I urged myself. I pictured the checkpoint ahead, that distant goal forcing my focus back to where it belonged.
Every second mattered.
My lips formed a tight line as I tried to push the image of her scared face from my mind.
"Please don't leave me!"
The girl cried out again, her raw and pleading voice rose.
I didn't respond.
She was just another problem in my way. A familiar detachment took over me and it only meant one thing—I couldn't afford to let guilt distract me. I had to maintain my edge.
The checkpoint remained my major focus.
Every step I took pushed the zeal to get to the damn check point. I'm here to win.
I marched like a madwoman with my heart drumming hard like it would explode any moment from now. The desert around me became blurry. Just keep going.
I pressed on as the crying girl faded into the background.
The sand crunched under my boots, each step a struggle against the painful sun and the dry air that touched my throat. Then a flicker of movement to the right pulled my attention.
"Ah!" I screamed as my heart jumped in my chest, but when I turned to look it was just him. The guy who'd laughed at me earlier—grey eyes.
On another thought, he could be here to hurt you, a small voice said to me. The one with that smug, detached look. He made steady and effortless movement across the dunes, his pace calm and measured. Almost too calm, as if the heat didn't touch him, as if this whole test was just a mild inconvenience.
I glowered as he passed through the rocks, not too far from where I had left the injured competitor. For a moment, I thought he might stop, that he might do what I hadn't. Help the poor fool. Yes he did. He slowed down then crouched next to girl. He tried to pull her from the pile of rocks but her head flayed helplessly. Is she dead? You can't die again in a place like this.
He was forced to leave her.
My breath paused. He'd seen me. He must've. He'd watched me make the choice, seen me walk away without a second glance, and now, he was doing the same. Only, he had tried to help. But there was something in the way he moved—like he was judging me, silently. It wasn't what he did that got under my skin. It was what he didn't do.
He didn't react. Didn't condemn. He just walked. And in that calm, collected way, he made it clear he disapproved without a single word.
I grimaced and turned away from him, forcing my legs to move faster. I wasn't about to let him get inside my head. Not now. Not when everything was on the line.
No matter how hard I tried, his annoying attitude stuck with me like a glass fragment lodged in my foot. Who the hell did he think he was? Watching me like that. Judging me. As if he was any better.
As if he wouldn't do the same to survive.
The wind blasted sand against my skin and I raised my arm to shield my face and squinted through the dust.
When do I get to this checkpoint? The sand and jagged rocks just kept stretching into the distance even though I could see the shimmering checkpoint from afar.
I glanced back one more time, just to be sure. He was still close by, still moving at that same, fast pace. Just blank and staring straight ahead.
But why did his indifference unsettle me? Maybe it was me knowing that he had witnessed my choice, my heartlessness. His lack of judgment was more stressful. The silent disapproval in his behaviour affected me more than if he said something.
I crossed the threshold, feeling a weight lift from my shoulders. I'd made it. I had survived the first test. I tried to catch my breath and saw him again out of the corner of my eye. I wanted to scream.
He stopped in front of me, his expression unreadable, his eyes steady on mine. For a moment, neither of said a word. The silence and stretched between us.
"I saw what you did back there," he said finally, his voice low. No anger, no judgment. Just a statement of fact.
I didn't flinch. "And?"
"And nothing," He shrugged. "Just thought it was interesting."
I raised an eyebrow, waiting for the rest of whatever lecture he was planning to give. But it didn't come. He just stood there, his eyes locked on mine, as if waiting for me to say something. Waiting for me to justify myself.
"I did what I had to do," I said, my voice sharper than I intended.
He nodded slowly. "Maybe. But you left both of them behind without even thinking twice." He had been following me even before I stumbled on the girl?
"So did you," I shot back, the words coming out before I could stop them. My pulse quickened, and I hated that he was getting under my skin like this.
He gave a small, almost imperceptible smile. "I did. But I still tried to help."
"So what? You still couldn't help."
"Could've tried—"
"Don't give me that bullshit."
"Ok."
My stomach twisted. "You don't know anything about me."
"Maybe not," he said, his voice annoyingly peaceful. "But I know enough."
Then he walked away.
I held my breath but the chime cut through the tension, pulling my attention away from him.
I looked up to see a holographic screen blink to life in front of me.
Speed
Before: +2
After: +5
Strategic thinking
Before: +20
After: +23
Weapon
Bronze Sword
The display dissolved, leaving a faint tingling sensation. My gaze dropped to my hand, and my breath hitched. A sword. A real, solid sword, resting in my hand.
I held it out in front of me as I turned it this way and that under the sun. It was real. I had never held a sword before, let alone used one. I'd dabbled in self-defense, more out of obligation than genuine interest. Give me a good plan over a scuffle any day.
I tried to remember any mention of weapons being awarded during the test, but my mind was a mushy with heat. A soft laugh escaped my lips.
Of all the things they could've given me… a sword. I wasn't sure if I should be happy or terrified.
But my legs felt charged. And then there was the weight in my hand, the shiny metal of the bronze sword pressing in my hand.
This wasn't just a game anymore. It was real.