Everyone else broke into a full sprint, but Noor’s eyes were drawn to a young man lounging by a tree, utterly indifferent to the test. A mocking smile played on his lips as he watched the other contestants.
Is he that confident? Noor wondered. Or does he have some trick up his sleeve, a power that makes this child’s play for him?
The pack thundered on, the initial burst of speed already giving way to gaps between runners. Noor, Keno, and Jean found themselves in the middle of the frantic crowd.
"We need to pick up the pace," Noor said, his words punctuated by controlled breaths. "We’ll be left behind if we don’t push for the front."
Keno shot him a look, shaking his head. "Bad idea. Let the others burn themselves out. We have no idea what’s waiting for us up there. Let the fools at the head of the pack spring whatever traps are waiting. We’ll hang back, watch what happens, and use that knowledge to our advantage when we make our final push."
Jean’s voice trembled. "He’s right. They called this the Death Race. Who knows what kind of horrors they’ve set up?"
Noor fell silent, mulling over their words. He glanced ahead at the leaders, searching for any sign of a special ability being used, any sudden shift in the race. But there was nothing. Everyone was holding their cards close to their chest.
Ten minutes of hard running passed. Fatigue was beginning to set in for some, their strides growing heavy, but the race itself remained stubbornly straightforward. They soon entered a long, strange tunnel, but its interior was just as featureless as the path outside.
"How much longer is this going to go on?" Noor grunted, his own breathing still remarkably steady. "This feels like nothing but an endurance test!"
"The course must be incredibly long to weed people out," Keno replied, a hint of confusion in his own voice. "But something feels off. There has to be a trick to it. For now, we just keep running until something changes."
Noor lapsed back into his thoughts. Beside him, Jean was struggling, her chest heaving as she fought to keep her legs moving.
After thirty minutes of non-stop running, nothing had changed.
"Five more minutes," Jean gasped, her face pale. "I don’t think I can last five more minutes."
Noor, who still felt almost no strain, looked at her in surprise. "That’s the strange thing. I’m not tired at all. I don’t understand why."
"They must have done something to our bodies," Keno reasoned. "Made some enhancements. But why not for Jean?"
"Maybe it’s linked to our powers," Noor mused. "The training we did. Jean, what is your—"
"Guys," Keno cut him off, his voice sharp with discovery. "I’ve figured it out. I know the trick."
Noor and Jean both turned to him, their expressions a mixture of shock and hope. "What is it?!" they asked in unison.
"I’ve been analyzing the path," Keno began, his eyes gleaming. "Leaving little markers for myself as we go. A few minutes ago, I found one of my marks again, which told me we were running in a loop. But to be sure, I kept going. Five minutes later, the mark wasn’t there. It was on the other side of the path. That’s what confused me! But then, five minutes after that, it was back in its original spot. And another five minutes, back on the opposite side. That’s when it all clicked."
"What does that mean? Spit it out!" Noor demanded, his voice rising with urgency and drawing glances from nearby runners.
Keno gestured for him to keep it down. "Patience. The path is changing on us." Read complete version only at novel-fire.ɴet
Noor’s jaw went slack. Jean’s eyes were wide. "How?" they breathed together.
"Every time we enter that tunnel, the path shifts without us noticing," Keno explained, his voice low and intense. "The tunnel isn’t a tunnel. It’s a reset switch. It’s moving, rotating us. When we come out, we’re running back the way we came. That’s why my mark switched sides—we were on the same road, just going in reverse. We run to one end, enter a tunnel, and it spits us back out at the beginning to do it all over again. An endless loop designed to wear everyone down. Most of these runners think it’s a marathon of stamina. They’re wrong. It’s a race of wits. Now, the next time we enter that tunnel, we stop."
Noor ran a hand through his hair. "My God... what a vicious trick. We never would have caught on without you. I was so focused on just running, I never even thought to look."
"Forget it," Keno said. "We’re a team."
They ran for another five minutes. Jean looked like she was on the verge of collapsing, but the sight of the tunnel appearing on the horizon gave her a last burst of strength. Keno and Noor, their bodies seemingly forged from iron, ran on without a hint of weariness.
As they entered the tunnel, the other contestants sprinting past them, Keno held up a hand. "Stop." He turned them back towards the entrance they had just come through. "Watch."
For a moment, nothing happened. Then, with a low grinding sound, the world outside the tunnel entrance began to slide sideways. The trees blurred past the opening, which then rotated for a full two minutes before locking into place with a heavy thud, revealing a new, sandy path none of them had seen before.
A triumphant grin spread across Keno’s face. "See? We broke the loop. Sometimes, you have to pay attention to what’s behind you, not just what’s ahead."
"We’re the first," Jean said, her voice filled with happy relief as she leaned against the tunnel wall, catching her breath. "You’re a genius, Keno. I never would have noticed something like that."
Noor was already stepping out onto the new path. "Let’s move before it shifts again," he warned. "This is our chance. I doubt anyone else has figured this out."
"On the contrary," Keno said, his tone turning serious. "I think plenty of people have. I noticed our numbers were dwindling, and I assumed people were just dropping out from exhaustion. But if that were true, we would have seen them on the path when we were running in reverse. It won’t be long before everyone knows. Contestants will stop to rest, they’ll see their friends suddenly running back towards them, and they’ll put two and two together. We have to hurry."
"Right," Jean said, pushing herself upright. "I’ve got my breath back. Let’s go. No more time to waste."
"Agreed," Keno added. "But be careful. We have no idea what comes next."
The three set off down the sandy trail, their pace cautious. Almost immediately, they spotted footprints in the sand, confirming that others were ahead of them. They followed the tracks, using them as a guide.
Three minutes later, a distant explosion rocked the air. It was followed by another, and then a third. A knot of anxiety tightened in their stomachs. Noor’s mind raced, trying to anticipate what they were running toward, knowing the answer wouldn’t be pleasant.
After another five minutes, they saw them: a group of about ten contestants standing together, arguing amongst themselves.
"Just as I thought," Keno muttered. "We’re far from the first."
They approached the group warily. The others eyed their arrival with open suspicion.
"Why have you all stopped?" Noor called out. "What were those explosions?"
A man turned to face them. He looked to be in his thirties, with sharp features, long dark hair that fell over his shoulders, and piercing, cold eyes. He regarded them with a flat, serious expression.
"There are mines," he said, his voice a chilling monotone. "The path is blocked. No one can pass."