The ceiling had cracks that seemed to bifurcate like dry rivers across parched earth. Every time Termina looked at it, she felt she could read something in those lines, as if they were invisible words someone had written for her. But they weren't. They couldn't be.

She sat in a corner of the small room, cross-legged with her elbow resting on an old, splintered wooden table. Beside her was a water bottle with barely a sip left and a bag of compressed soup she had been saving for two days.

The room smelled of dampness, mixed with the faint metallic scent of rust from the pipes that creaked every so often, as if complaining about the weight of time. The walls, clean but worn, seemed to hold the place together only through the effort of its owner, old Kazuo.

—"Checking the rankings again?" —Kazuo's voice came from the other side of the door, hoarse yet kind.

—"Just in case something's changed,"—Termina replied without taking her eyes off the holographic screen projected onto her palm. Names appeared on an endless list, topped by one that seemed as distant as a forgotten dream: Aurora.

Aurora. The beginning of everything. The name shone on the leaderboard with a cold glow, accompanied by a number that seemed infinite, beyond comprehension. No matter how many times she saw it, she always felt the same: an unbridgeable distance, as if they didn't even exist on the same plane.

Termina blinked, tearing her gaze away from the list and refocusing on the room. It wasn't that bad, she thought. Sure, there were stains on the floor that wouldn't come off even with fire, and the only window was so small it barely let in any light, but Kazuo kept it clean. Even the air had a faint smell of cheap incense, an attempt to mask the odor from the hallway outside.

—"If you keep helping me with the records, I might give you an extra point this week,"— Kazuo said, poking his head through the half-open door. His wrinkled face lit up with a smile that revealed he was joking.

—"One more point would be a miracle," —Termina replied with a half-smile that quickly faded.

Kazuo entered the room, his slow but steady gait carrying a toolbox that seemed larger than him. —"Miracles… Who needs miracles when you've got this?"— He gestured to the local leaderboard that Termina had just turned off. —"You just need to get to the top. That'll fix everything."

Termina let out a dry laugh, more of a reflex than a genuine response. —"Sure, because it's as easy as climbing a step, right?"

Kazuo shrugged. —"Well, someone always does it. Aurora did it. Who's to say you can't?"

Aurora. That name again. Termina felt it again, that strange twinge that ran down her neck, as if someone was standing behind her, watching. But when she turned, there was only the bare wall.

—"Something wrong?" —Kazuo asked, noticing her expression.

—"No, nothing," —she said quickly.

Kazuo raised an eyebrow but didn't press further. Instead, he placed the toolbox on the table and began rummaging through the tools, muttering something about broken pipes and bad luck. Termina watched him for a moment before returning to her compressed soup.

She opened it carefully, peeling off the small metallic seal. The smell of artificial broth filled the air, a scent that felt more like a memory of food than something real. She took a small sip directly from the bag, letting the lukewarm liquid flow down her throat.

—"I don't know how you can eat that," —Kazuo commented. —"It tastes like cardboard."

—"It's not so bad if you don't think about it too much," —Termina replied.

—"That's what you always say."

She smiled for the first time that day, a brief but genuine smile. She leaned back in her chair, letting the silence fill the room while Kazuo continued to work.

At some point, she reopened the leaderboard. Her eyes scanned the names, stopping at the top ten. Each one seemed so far out of reach it almost didn't make sense to try. But then, at the very bottom of the local list, there was her name: Termina.

She only had thirty-seven points.

And though she didn't know it, somewhere far away, someone was watching that number too.

"Do you think she should give up?"

Kazuo sighed as he tightened a rusty pipe that had been leaking for weeks. —"You know, when I was your age, I also thought the world owed me something."

—"And what happened?"— Termina asked, not particularly interested but with a flicker of curiosity she barely managed to hide.

—"I realized it wasn't the world that owed me something, but me who owed the world."— Kazuo let out an ironic chuckle. —"Of course, that didn't stop me from hoping fortune would fall from the sky. But, well, you see where I ended up."

Termina looked around the small room as if Kazuo had just described it for the first time. The plaster walls were covered in damp stains that formed strange patterns, almost like maps of an unknown territory. The single lamp hung from an exposed wire, casting shadows that danced with every flicker of the bulb.

—"Well, at least you have this place," —she murmured, more to herself than to him.

Kazuo let out a short, dry laugh. —"Yeah, sure. A palace, right? But I'm not complaining. As long as I have a roof and something to eat, I'm better off than most."

That phrase resonated with her. —"Better than most." —It was true, but it wasn't enough. Not when Aurora was there, at the top, so far away she seemed untouchable.

—"What happens if someone catches up to Aurora?" —she asked suddenly, the words spilling out faster than she'd intended.

Kazuo stopped, slowly turning toward her with an expression she couldn't decipher. —"Catch up to Aurora? Why do you ask?"

—"I don't know, just… curious," —she said, shrugging.

The old man scratched his chin, thoughtful. —"Well, that's never happened. But if someone did…"— He paused, as if carefully choosing his words. —"I suppose it would mean the end of something."

—"The end of what?"

Kazuo looked at her, his wrinkled eyes showing a glimmer of something she hadn't seen before. —"That, I don't know. But everything has an end, doesn't it? Even Aurora."

The silence that followed was heavy, as if Kazuo's words had filled the room with something tangible. Termina averted her gaze, feeling a chill that had nothing to do with the temperature.

—"Well, enough with the cheap philosophy," —Kazuo said, breaking the silence in a lighter tone. —"I've got to finish this before these pipes flood the place."

She nodded, returning to her compressed soup. But the words kept swirling in her head. "The end of something." What did that even mean?

---

The clock on the wall read 11:47 when Termina decided to leave the room. The hallway was dark, illuminated only by a flickering bulb at the end. The floor creaked beneath her feet as she moved forward, and the air smelled of a mix of dust and old wood.

She descended the stairs carefully, avoiding the steps she knew made the loudest noise. When she reached the first floor, she stopped in front of the main door.

She didn't know exactly why, but she felt the need to step outside, even if just for a moment. Perhaps it was the oppressive weight of the room, Kazuo's words, or simply the urge to breathe fresh air that wasn't heavy with humidity.

She opened the door slowly, letting the night air envelop her. The world outside was silent, save for the distant hum of a machine she couldn't see.

—"Out wandering again at this hour?"

The voice made her turn abruptly. It was Lena, the neighbor from the building across the street, a woman in her forties who always carried a cigarette in her hand, though Termina had never seen her actually smoke it.

—"Just needed some air," —Termina said, trying to sound casual.

Lena raised an eyebrow. —"Air? There's not much of that around here."

Termina didn't reply, instead looking up at the sky. The stars were barely visible between the clouds, and the moon seemed smaller than she remembered.

—"You know,"— Lena said, taking an imaginary puff of her cigarette, —"there's something about you that reminds me of myself when I was young."

Termina eyed her skeptically. —"Really?"

Lena shrugged. —"Well, maybe not exactly. But we had the same look. Like we were searching for something we didn't know how to name."

—"And did you find it?"

Lena chuckled softly, a sound that was swallowed by the night. —"No. But that doesn't mean you can't."

The conversation ended there, and Termina returned to her room, but Lena's words stayed with her. "Searching for something she didn't know how to name."

That night, as she lay in bed, she couldn't help but look at the ceiling again. The cracks were still there, unmoving, but this time they seemed different.

They seemed to shift.

Do you see it? You're searching for something too, aren't you?

---

In a place where light seemed an intrusion, where darkness was total and oppressive, two luminous figures twisted in the air like holographic projections: a white serpent with iridescent eyes and a blue one glowing with an ethereal brilliance. Both creatures clashed in a brutal and violent dance, biting, coiling, and tearing at each other with a ferocity that kept the crowd teetering on the edge of frenzy.

Around them, dozens of people gathered, illuminated only by the glow of the serpents and the transparent cards strapped to their wrists. Each card emitted a faint purple light, displaying numbers that fluctuated rapidly as bets were placed.

—"Sister Su, you've got this! I'm betting 100 points that your specter wins!" —shouted a young man with messy hair, holding up his card.

—"Reiket, you're the best! I'm putting 50,000 points on you!" —another voice called from the back, eyes shining with a mix of fervor and desperation.

The stakes rose higher, and the spectators' cries filled the space with an almost animalistic echo. In the center, the serpents continued their battle, every movement unleashing a wave of tension in the crowd. The blue serpent attempted one final attack, throwing its full weight against the white one, but with precise timing, the white serpent caught it in its jaws and began to mercilessly devour it.

The crowd went wild.

—"Reiket wins! I knew it, I knew it!" —someone screamed, leaping into the air as if they'd just won the lottery.

At the center of the makeshift arena, a young woman with black hair and crescent-shaped eyes smiled calmly. Reiket was flawless, without a single bead of sweat or hint of exhaustion on her face. With a casual gesture, she shifted her gaze toward her opponent, Su, whose expression of defeat was impossible to ignore.

—"Better luck next time, Sister Su," —Reiket said sweetly, though her tone carried an undeniable superiority that caused some spectators to chuckle under their breath.

Su gritted her teeth, her eyes filled with fury. Without hesitation, she stepped forward, pointing a trembling finger at Reiket.

—"I demand a rematch! Here and now!"

Reiket's smile widened, as if she had been waiting for this.

—"Again?" —she replied, tilting her head. —"Fine. But don't cry when you lose again."

Ignoring the comment, Su extended her hand toward the ground, where a circular mark began to form beneath her feet. Reiket did the same, and a second seal appeared, encircling her fingers with glowing runes.

The crowd held their breath as the numbers on the floor began to light up, marking the countdown:

10... 9... 8...

—"What do you think Su will do this time?" —someone whispered in the crowd.

—"Probably summon another high-class specter and lose again," —another replied with a mocking laugh.

—"Don't underestimate Su," —a third person interjected. —"She can be unpredictable."

7... 6... 5...

Both combatants kept their hands steady on the ground. Sweat began to bead on Su's forehead, while Reiket remained as composed as ever.

4... 3... 2... 1...

With a flash of light, Su threw a small token that transformed into a dark, almost intangible creature—a class-4 specter that floated in the air like a living shadow. It had long, gleaming claws, and its form seemed to ripple as if made of smoke.

Reiket didn't waste any time. From her pocket, she pulled out an even smaller token, tossing it with a swift motion. From it emerged a much smaller specter—a dark being that seemed insignificant compared to Su's.

—"A class-3 specter?" —someone murmured in disbelief.

—"She's crazy!" —another shouted. —"That specter doesn't stand a chance against a class-4."

But Reiket didn't seem concerned. With a simple flick of her finger, her specter launched itself toward Su's with a speed that left everyone speechless. Before anyone could react, the small shadow pierced through the class-4 specter with surgical precision, disintegrating it instantly.

The crowd fell silent.

—"What...?" —Su stammered, staring in disbelief at the empty space where her specter had been.

Reiket let out a soft, almost kind laugh.

—"Guess size isn't everything, huh?"

The comment unleashed a wave of murmurs and shouts among the crowd.

—"How is it possible for a Class 3 specter to defeat a Class 4?"

—"That doesn't make any sense!"

—"She must have cheated!"

Su, trembling with rage, took a step toward Reiket, but the latter raised a hand to stop her.

—"Calm down, Sister Su," —she said with a smile. —"It wasn't cheating. Just strategy."

The crowd erupted into a mix of shouts, laughter, and arguments as the points on their cards began to adjust automatically, reflecting each spectator's losses and gains.

Amid the chaos, Reiket turned to face the audience, her smile unwavering, and said loudly:

—"Anyone else want to try?"

The silence lasted only a few seconds before the murmurs in the crowd turned into a roar. Some spectators argued heatedly about Reiket's victory, while others bickered over their lost bets. The cards glowed like small purple torches, projecting numbers that shifted in real time.

Reiket paid them no attention. She stepped toward the center of the arena, her figure bathed in the residual glow of the Class 3 specter, which still floated around her like a playful shadow. Her smile remained the same: calm, confident, but with a glint of provocation that seemed designed to irritate anyone.

—"What's wrong? Is that all?" —she asked, her voice loud enough to cut through the chaos. —"Does no one else have the guts to try?"

A man's voice rose from the back of the crowd.

—"I will!"

Everyone turned to look at him. He was tall, with dark hair tied in a messy ponytail, and his eyes burned with a mix of fury and determination. The atmosphere shifted instantly; the crowd began to step back slightly, giving him space as he walked toward the center of the arena.

Reiket observed him curiously, tilting her head.

—"You? Really?"— she said, her lips curling into a mocking smile. —"Don't tell me you're betting what's left after losing to Sister Su."

The man clenched his fists, ignoring the laughter rippling through the spectators.

—"I don't need words to prove anything to you," —he growled, pulling a gleaming token from his pocket.

Reiket raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

—"That sounds promising. Let's see what you've got, then."

Both placed their hands on the ground, and the circle of light reappeared around their fingers, brighter than before. The crowd held its breath as the ground once again projected the countdown:

10... 9... 8...

The man closed his eyes for a moment, focusing. When he opened them again, there was a new intensity in his gaze. With a swift motion, he tossed his token to the ground, and from it emerged a Class 5 specter: a colossal creature that looked like a mix between a wolf and a dragon, with sharp claws and glowing red eyes that seemed to pierce through the darkness.

The crowd gasped.

—"A Class 5 specter!" —someone murmured.

—"This should be interesting," — another added with a grin of anticipation.

Reiket watched the specter for a moment, her eyes reflecting the lights emanating from the creature. Then, calmly, she pulled out another token, smaller and more discreet than the previous one.

—"Is that all?" —she asked, her smile making a few spectators laugh nervously. —"Alright. This will be quick."

She tossed the token to the ground, and from it emerged a completely different specter: a small point of light that floated in the air, almost invisible. The crowd fell silent, stunned.

—"What... what is that?" —someone asked.

—"A specter of Class... Zero?" —another murmured, unable to hide their disbelief.

The man in front of Reiket began to laugh.

—"A point of light? Is that the best you've got?" —he said, his voice dripping with scorn.

Reiket didn't reply. Instead, she raised her hand, pointing at her tiny specter.

—"Do you see that light?" —she asked, her voice so calm it sent chills through some in the crowd. —"It's the beginning of everything. And it's also the end."

Before the man could respond, the point of light moved. It was so fast it was barely visible, but in an instant, it tore through the Class 5 specter, disintegrating it completely in a flash of energy.

The crowd erupted in screams and gasps.

—"What the hell was that?!"

—"That's impossible!"

The man fell to his knees, staring at the empty space where his specter had been.

Reiket approached him, leaning slightly to speak in a low voice.

—"Do you know what the problem with brute force is?" —she said, her smile kind but devoid of compassion. —"There's always something smaller, faster... and deadlier."

The crowd continued arguing and shouting, but Reiket turned to face them, raising a hand to command their attention.

—"Who else wants to try?" —she asked, her voice carrying a confidence that left no room for doubt.

The silence that followed was absolute. No one dared to step forward.

The commotion of the crowd began to die down when a firm, calm voice broke through the air:

—"Reiket, IC 7... how dare you scam ignorant fools?"

Everyone turned toward the source of those words, and the crowd parted like a river dividing its waters. A young man with a sturdy build walked forward calmly, adjusting his glasses with a calculated gesture. His appearance was the antithesis of what one would expect from someone in his position: his hair was disheveled, his clothes simple and slightly wrinkled, but his eyes gleamed with a sharp intelligence that made anyone think twice before underestimating him.

—"Cegd...?" —someone murmured.

—"It's the IC number 3!" —another exclaimed, and the crowd began whispering excitedly.

Reiket, who had already started turning to leave, stopped at the sound of someone with such weight calling her name. Slowly, she turned back, a smile playing on her lips, one that showed more interest than concern.

—"Well, well..." —she said, crossing her arms. —"If this isn't interesting. What brings you here, Cegd? Were you bored of your crystal tower?"

Cegd ignored the sarcasm and stopped in front of her, pulling a token from his pocket and spinning it between his fingers.

—"Crystal tower?" —he repeated with a faint smile. —"That's amusing, coming from someone who hides behind cheap tricks and class-zero specters."

The crowd stirred, as if they were witnessing the prelude to an epic duel.

Reiket raised an eyebrow, visibly amused.

—"Cheap tricks? Is that what you think of my last victory?" —she asked, her tone dripping with false innocence. —"Or is that just your way of justifying yourself because you finally dared to step out of the shadows of numbers one and two?"

Cegd didn't take the bait. Instead, he raised his token and let it fall to the ground, where it bounced with a metallic sound before settling.

—"I propose a game," —he said, his voice firm but calm.

Reiket narrowed her eyes, her interest piquing.

—"What kind of game?" —she asked.

—"Guess the specter," —Cegd replied, adjusting his glasses with one finger. —"Ten rounds. Each of us hides a specter in our token, and the other must guess its class. If you fail, you lose 1,000 points."

The crowd reacted with murmurs of astonishment and anticipation.

—"And if we win all the rounds?" —Reiket asked, tilting her head slightly with a curious smile.

—"If someone loses all ten rounds, they forfeit their ranking, break their contract with the GCR, and leave the coliseum forever." —Cegd let the words hang in the air. —"Does that sound fair to you?"

The silence was palpable. Reiket glanced around, noting the expectant looks of the spectators, then turned back to Cegd, who watched her with an unnerving calm.

—"Sounds... exciting," —she said, crossing her arms with a smile. —"I accept."

The crowd erupted into cheers and applause, and some began betting frantically, raising their purple cards in the air.

From the crowd, Sister Su raised a hand, catching Cegd's attention.

—"Go for it, brother!" —she shouted, her voice full of emotion. —"Show her what it means to be a real IC!"

Cegd nodded in her direction, but his focus never wavered from Reiket, who had already pulled another token from her pocket.

—"First round?" —she asked, raising an eyebrow.

—"First round," —he replied.

Both placed their tokens on the ground, and rings of light appeared around their hands. The tension in the air was almost tangible as the tokens began to glow.

—"Class...?" —Cegd began, observing Reiket's token with calculated intensity.

Reiket smiled, holding his gaze.

—"Try to guess, number three."

—"Class two," —he replied calmly.

Reiket's token activated, and the specter that emerged was indeed class two. A murmur rippled through the crowd.

—"One to zero," —Cegd said with a faint smile.

Reiket frowned slightly but said nothing as she prepared for the next round.

The tension grew with each round. Cegd seemed to stay one step ahead, guessing Reiket's specters with an almost inhuman accuracy. Reiket, on the other hand, struggled more, failing three consecutive rounds.

By the eighth round, Reiket looked noticeably more serious, while Cegd maintained his serene and confident expression.

—"Class...?" —she asked, holding Cegd's token between her fingers.

Cegd smiled.

—"Are you going to take a risk or give up now?" —he asked, his tone mocking.

The crowd held its breath as Reiket made her guess.

—"Class four."

Cegd's token activated, and from it emerged a class-five specter.

The crowd exploded into cheers and applause as Cegd added another point to his score.

—"Last round," —he said, his calm smile unwavering. —"Ready?"

The tension was about to burst. Cegd and Reiket stared at each other, their faces impassive, but their eyes reflected the game being played beyond the simple competition. Both knew this round could change everything. The crowd breathed in unison, and the coliseum fell into complete silence, waiting for the verdict of the final play.

But before anyone could speak, a deafening noise broke the air, like the roar of a storm approaching the coast. The sound rippled through the space, reverberating off the walls of the coliseum, sending shivers down the spines of everyone present.

—"The judges are here!"

The shout rose from several mouths, and as if everyone had been waiting for this moment, the crowd began to collapse into panic. Chairs creaked, lights flickered, and the air filled with frantic voices.

—"Run, or you'll lose all your points!"

—"Don't let them take my bets!"

Faces twisted into a mix of fear, desperation, and anxiety. Many began running for the exits, trampling over each other, shoving, caring only about escaping.

Reiket didn't move from her spot, but she could see the people running, the flickering lights above them as if time itself had stopped. Cegd, on the other hand, remained as unperturbed as ever. As the chaos unfolded, there wasn't even a spark of surprise in his eyes. It was as if he had anticipated it all.

"Do they really think they can escape this?"

The question crossed Reiket's mind briefly but lingered only as a whisper in the air. Cegd seemed to watch the scene with a calm that was almost unsettling. The murmurs multiplied, and the lights flickered back fully, casting long shadows that served as a reminder of what was to come.

A couple of people approached Cegd, begging for help, while others, terrified, dashed toward the doors, clutching their cards so tightly that the numbers seemed almost indelible. But Cegd ignored them, fixing his gaze on Reiket. Without uttering a single word, he made a small gesture toward her, as if all the chaos were merely a distraction.

"Can't you see them?" The thought surfaced again in Reiket's mind, but she held onto it for only a moment. The figures around her, running back and forth, seemed no more than blurry shadows, shapes vanishing as though they didn't truly belong to the same world she inhabited.

And yet, an unmistakable sensation crawled down her spine: none of this was real. It was all a spectacle, a game in which everyone played the same role, surrendering to a script they couldn't escape. The judges, the bets, the chaos... everything was designed so that they, the players, were only part of something larger, something created to control everyone's fate.

—"Is it really worth it?"

Cegd opened his mouth to answer Reiket, but instead of speaking, his voice melded with the sounds of panic in the air. Without warning, two of the judges appeared at the door—tall, imposing, their black robes reflecting an unnatural glow. The crowd scattered further, some running toward the walls, others simply succumbing to panic, yet the silence, somehow, lingered in the air.

"Is this what separates us? A mere choice?"

Reiket rose slowly, her face impassive, as the judges began moving through the crowd without acknowledging her. Each step they took echoed like the truth of a forgotten memory. She looked at Cegd, who seemed neither impressed nor worried by the scene unfolding before them.

"Because, in the end, we're all destined for the same thing."

The thought passed through her mind, but, like everything in this place, it vanished as quickly as it came. The judges stopped as they reached the central table, where Cegd and Reiket remained unmoving, as though all the chaos around them was nothing but a backdrop.

"What would become of this if we weren't trapped in this farce?"

Reiket could barely suppress a smile, for something deep inside her told her this moment was nothing more than a fragmented repetition. The same game, the same bets, the same people; everything felt... foreign. Cegd, with a calm expression, raised a hand and spun it in the air.

—"Let the judges do their work," —he said, in a tone that sounded almost as if he were speaking to someone beyond the crowd, beyond the story itself.

And, for a brief moment, reality itself seemed to waver.