Over the next hour, the pace of eliminations slowed down significantly.
Leo stared at the glowing counter in his hand. The numbers had ticked down relentlessly at first, a blur of constant movement. But now, it crawled.
490 pairs remaining.
489.
488.
The drop was agonizingly slow, barely one or two pairs eliminated every five minutes.
Compared to the frenzy of the first thirty minutes—when eliminations had been constant, brutal, and swift—it felt like a different test entirely.
Leo exhaled, his breath slow and deliberate as he leaned back against the wall. He glanced at the Counter again, as if expecting it to speed up, but the numbers remained unchanged.
'The chaos has settled,' he thought, his gaze narrowing. 'The weak are gone. Now, only the predators remain.'
It was a sobering realization. Those who had been too slow, too unskilled, or too scared had already been culled. What remained were the best contestants: experienced, calculating, and dangerous.
Leo dropped the Counter into his lap, his fingers trembling slightly as he flexed his hands. Pain shot through his palm as a result of the strained movement, making him wince sharply.
His muscles ached still, even after an hour of rest, as whatever ability he used, seemed to have done a real number on his body.
'Will this heal in the short time?' Leo wondered, as he raised his hand to eye level, watching as he slowly opened and closed his fingers. Each movement sent a fresh wave of discomfort through his arm, a stark reminder of the toll the fight had taken on him.
His entire body felt battered, as though he'd been through a gauntlet of punishment. And in a way, he had.
'Another fight like that,' he thought grimly, 'and I'm not making it out of here.'
Leo let his hand drop, resting it on his thigh as he leaned his head back against the wall. Exhaustion tugged at him, a persistent weight that dragged his eyelids lower with every passing second.
For a brief moment, he considered letting himself sleep. His body screamed for rest, every nerve and muscle begging for relief. But the thought was dismissed just as quickly.
'I can't afford to–'
If he let his guard down now, he might not wake up. The pain coursing through his body wasn't just from exhaustion; it was a warning.
Whatever ability he'd used during the fight, it had left him broken. If he pushed himself again without recovery, he knew the consequences could be far worse.
His eyes flicked to Felix, sitting a few feet away, as he exhaled softly.
'Felix needs to step up for the next one', he thought, watching his partner's movements carefully, as he sincerely hoped that now that Felix had enough time to get drunk, that the man would finally pull his weight around here.
Felix sat slumped against the wall, his oversized gourd cradled in his lap like a lifeline. His flushed cheeks and glassy eyes made it clear—he was drunk.
But it wasn't just his appearance that had changed. Felix had become a whirlwind of muttered complaints, exaggerated gestures, and erratic energy that filled the quiet corridor.
The difference was like night and day. The same people that he claimed to miss and love previously when he was not drunk, were the people he cursed and complained about now, as Leo felt unsure on what to make of this change.
"This stupid test," Felix grumbled, kicking a stray pebble weakly across the floor. "What kind of sick psychopath puts people in a death game like this? Huh? What are we, gladiators? I didn't sign up for this crap!"
He took another swig from his gourd, the liquid sloshing noisily as he wiped his mouth with his sleeve. "And my parents! Oh, they're to blame for this. 'Felix, you have potential,' they said. 'Felix, join the academy,' they said. 'It'll make you stronger,' they said. Stronger?! I've never been more terrified in my entire life!"
His voice cracked, and he let out a dramatic sigh, his head falling back against the wall.
"And don't even get me started on my ancestors," he muttered, pointing a shaky finger at the ceiling as though addressing them directly. "You're supposed to be watching over me, aren't you? Isn't that your job? Well, you're doing a terrible job! What's the point of ancestral blessings if I'm stuck here, about to be murdered by psychos with swords?"
He groaned loudly, covering his face with one hand. "I swear, if I make it out of here alive, I'm moving to some quiet farm planet. No assassins, no tests, just me, some cows, and a nice, simple life."
Felix took another swig from his gourd, pausing only to glare at the empty air in front of him. "And don't even think about sending me on another mission, Mom. I'm done. D-O-N-E. You hear me?"
He waved the gourd in the air like a flag, his voice rising in volume. "I'm gonna live like a king! No more tests! No more—"
His gaze shifted to Leo, who was watching him silently, his expression unreadable. Felix froze mid-rant, his eyes narrowing as his bravado flared.
"What? You got a problem?" Felix snapped, pushing himself to his feet unsteadily. He jabbed a finger in Leo's direction, his flushed face twisting into an exaggerated scowl. "I don't like your judgemental gaze! You think I'm scared? Huh? Is that it?"
Leo raised an eyebrow, leaning back against the wall. "I didn't say anything."
"Yeah, well, you were thinking it," Felix retorted, wobbling slightly as he tried to maintain his stance. "You wanna fight? Huh? You want a piece of this fist too?"
Leo sighed, his exhaustion making it impossible to muster any real annoyance. "Felix, sit down."
Felix huffed, crossing his arms indignantly but eventually slumping back against the wall. "Yeah, whatever. I wasn't serious anyway. You're lucky I don't feel like teaching you a lesson right now."
Leo's lips twitched, but he said nothing, his attention already drifting toward the sound of faint footsteps echoing down the corridor.
"There's someone down here.... Another prey to kill" said a feminine voice, as two sets of hurried footsteps suddenly made their way down the corridor.