Oliver stared at Lina, memories flooding back faster than he could process.
Back when they were kids in the orphanage, she had been one of the few lights in his life, one of the only reasons he didn't drown in the hatred festering inside him after his family was murdered.
Whenever he came back with bruises and cuts from fights — which was almost every other day — Lina was always there, her small hands carefully applying ointment and wrapping bandages around his wounds.
Her expression was always the same: a mixture of sadness, frustration, and quiet determination. She never scolded him for fighting — she knew why he did it — but she hated how much it was eating him alive.
She didn't need to say anything. Her silence, her worried glances, the way her hands trembled slightly when she wiped blood off his face — it was enough to make him see himself through her eyes.
Slowly, he started pulling back. If he'd gotten into ten fights a week before, he cut it down to six.
It wasn't much, but it was the best he could do. And Lina accepted that. As long as he reduced the number of times he came back hurt, it was enough for her.
But if he was going to fight, he had to win. Losing and getting hurt would only make her sad again.
So he trained, got stronger, made sure no one could lay a hand on him if he could help it.
In a way, Lina became his motivation — not revenge, not proving anything to anyone. Just her quiet plea for him to take care of himself.
Then everything changed.
Lina disappeared for a while, withdrawing from everyone. When she came back, it was with a secret none of them had known — she was pregnant.
Oliver had no idea she'd even had a boyfriend. It was a shock, but before anyone could process it, the Stillborn Calamity struck.
The baby didn't survive.
And neither did the Lina Oliver had known.
The light in her eyes faded, replaced with an empty hollowness.
No matter how much Oliver wanted to help her the way she'd always helped him, there was nothing he could do.
His words couldn't reach her. His presence couldn't comfort her. She drifted further and further away until, when they both turned eighteen, they lost contact entirely.
So seeing her standing here now, so many years later — in a place like this — was the last thing Oliver expected. Yet, here she was, as real as the air in his lungs.
And after everything, after all the years and all the pain, all he could say was:
"Rin... is that you?"
Lina's smile turned bittersweet, but she nodded. "It's me, Ollie. Small world, isn't it?"
The odds were astronomical. Out of all the people, all the teams, all the Earthlings scattered across this world, fate had somehow thrown them together here — in a place where survival was anything but guaranteed.
Dante snorted, cutting through the silence. "Well, isn't this one hell of a reunion? Let's just hope we don't all die before the nostalgia sets in."
Dante leaned back against the wall, arms crossed and a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. "Well, looks like you're the last piece of the puzzle, Oliver," he said.
"Since you and Lina already know each other, why don't you go ahead and explain how the team system works to him, Rin?"
Lina shifted uncomfortably at the mention of her old nickname, but she didn't argue.
Oliver glanced at her, the questions he wanted to ask piling up in his mind, but he forced them down.
Now wasn't the time. He needed to be clear-headed for what was coming, and digging into the past would only cloud his focus.
There would be time for that later — assuming they survived.
Lina took a small breath before explaining.
"The Team Function in the system lets us stay connected even if we're separated. We can send messages directly to each other, almost like telepathy, so we can coordinate during battles or share information if something happens."
She paused for a second, then continued. "It also allows us to send items between inventories. So if someone's out of potions or needs a weapon, anyone on the team can send something over instantly."
Oliver nodded slowly. That was more advanced than the basic system functions he was used to, but it made sense for team-based trials like this.
"If you want more details," Lina added, "just check your status. Everything's listed there, including team perks and restrictions."
Oliver took mental notes, keeping his questions to himself for now. "What about the match itself?" he asked.
Dante answered this time. "We already set the match order based on who signed up first. I'm up first, then Aiko, then Tariq, Lina, and finally you. So you get to be our closer."
He grinned, showing teeth. "Hope you're good at making last impressions."
Oliver gave a slight nod, absorbing everything. With the explanations out of the way, they settled into a tense silence, each of them lost in their own thoughts as they waited for the first match to begin.
Finally, after what felt like hours, the heavy creak of the door signaled it was time.
The door creaked open, and a woman stepped inside with the confident air of someone who had done this a hundred times before.
She wore a crisp white shirt, tucked neatly into a fitted black vest, and a matching black skirt that stopped just above her knees.
Her hair was tied back into a simple ponytail, and a small insignia of the Crimson Crucible was pinned to her vest — a broken sword encircled by chains.
"It's time for your match," she said in a flat, professional tone. "The first challenger should follow me. The rest of you will wait here — you can view the match through the visual artifact provided."
Dante immediately pushed off the wall, rolling his shoulders with a wide grin. "Guess that's my cue." He turned to the rest of the team, pointing at them with both fingers like imaginary pistols. "You guys better be prepared to witness perfection."
Without waiting for a reply, he strode after the worker, hands resting lazily behind his head. The door swung shut behind him with a metallic clang, leaving the room thick with silence.
The remaining four team members shifted their focus to the visual artifact, a circular, mirror-like device embedded into the wall.
It shimmered faintly with a silvery glow, awaiting activation. Soon, it would show the arena — and the opponent Dante would face.
No one spoke as they waited, each of them mentally preparing for their own matches, knowing that Dante's performance would set the tone for the battles ahead.