The voice returned, its tone stern and indifferent. "Congratulations on reaching the final stage. As I see, sixteen competitors have made it this far out of the original fifty. Only the exceptional remain. Now, before I distribute the points you have earned, I must tell you about the final test. It will be one-on-one combat. You will have one fight. If you win, your place is secure. If you lose, we will see if your points are enough to qualify you for the top eight. It is possible this test could extend to a second fight, should there be a tie for the final positions. Now, proceed to the circular building before you. The gate is opening."
The competitors protested, whispering frantically among themselves. This was worse than anything before. A test that could force you to fight the very friends you had made, or pit you against a monster.
They advanced toward the new gate, which opened wide to reveal an arena that felt like a nightmare from history—a modern Colosseum, built for masters to watch men die. It was circular, with stands for spectators overlooking a dirt field dotted with dense trees for cover and a small stream running through the middle.
Everyone climbed the stairs and stood in the stands, waiting. Massive holographic screens flickered to life in the air above the arena, showing every angle of the battlefield.
"The screens will now display each person’s name, your total points, and the name of your opponent," the voice announced.
The names appeared. A wave of tension washed over the crowd, so thick you could taste it. Some people groaned, their faces paling as they saw who they were matched against.
"I got one hundred and twenty points!" Jean said, a note of relief in her voice.
"I got one hundred and fifty," Noor said, feeling a surge of hope.
Jean’s brow furrowed. "Why did you get so much more than me? That’s unfair!"
"I honestly don’t know," he replied.
"One hundred and forty," Akira sighed, interrupting them. "That’s good."
"This is unfair," Jean said, her jealousy growing. "Why am I so far behind you both? I helped a lot."
Noor and Akira just shook their heads. "Maybe because we finished the race before you?" Noor suggested. Orıginal content can be found at 𝕟𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕝⟡𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕥⟡𝕟𝕖𝕥
"Maybe," she muttered. "It doesn’t matter. As long as I get out of here."
The highest scores belonged to the strongest. Keno had one hundred and sixty. Ivanov had one hundred and seventy. And at the top, with one hundred and eighty, was Sairi.
The first battle was announced: Sairi vs. Torres.
A visible wave of terror passed over Torres. He had been on Sairi’s team. He knew exactly what kind of savagery he was about to face.
The two of them descended into the great arena and stood facing each other. Along the wall were crates overflowing with weapons of every kind, from swords and axes to pistols and cannons. Torres, despite his fear, saw an opportunity. He walked over and grabbed a machine gun and a pistol. Sairi remained motionless, waiting for him, his hands empty. After Torres returned to his spot, the voice boomed.
"Let the battle begin."
Torres aimed his weapon at Sairi, his hands trembling. "Fighting you is tough," he said, trying to sound brave, "but remember, I can read your mind. I’ll know your every move. Surrender now if you want to live."
Sairi let out a small, almost silent laugh. He stared at Torres with terrifyingly empty black eyes. "Good. Then you already know what I’m thinking," he replied. "But I’ll give you some free advice: stay out of my head. It’s not a healthy place for you."
Torres flinched but raised his pistol and opened fire. Sairi lifted his left hand, and the bullets stopped dead in mid-air, hovering harmlessly in front of him. Torres’s anxiety spiked.
Sairi extended his right hand toward the weapon crates. A gleaming katana flew from one of the boxes and settled perfectly into his grip. With a flick of his wrist, the suspended bullets shot sideways and buried themselves in the dirt. Then he charged.
Torres braced himself, trying to use his power to anticipate the attack. But he was still troubled by Sairi’s warning. He dipped into the current of Sairi’s thoughts, and his heart immediately began to hammer against his ribs. Sweat poured from his body. It felt as though he had stepped into a den of demons. He saw the darkest, most hideous thoughts of his life, a maelstrom of pure malice, all revolving around what Sairi was going to do to him when he caught him.
His body began to tremble violently. He collapsed to his knees, his weapon clattering to the ground, completely paralyzed by the horror in Sairi’s mind. He started screaming, a raw, animal sound of a man being torn apart from the inside, begging Sairi to stop. The audience watched in stunned silence, their fear of Sairi growing with every passing second. Only Ivanov laughed, a deep, boisterous sound.
Sairi halted his advance just a few feet away.
Torres’s eyes bulged, turning a horrific shade of red as if all the blood in his body had rushed to them. His body shook with greater force as his screams continued, until finally, with a monumental effort, he managed to sever the connection to Sairi’s mind. He fell to the ground, mumbling unintelligibly, his mind shattered.
Sairi laughed, a ferocious, cruel sound. "I warned you," he said. "Some things should be left alone. Sealed forever."
Everyone felt a deep revulsion, a primal fear of the man standing over his broken opponent.
"Sairi has won this battle," the announcer’s voice declared.