Kaelira rolled her shoulders once more.
Mana pulsed through her limbs, steady now. Controlled.
Her gaze swept across the battlefield—bodies, movement, targets.
"…If my mana was still sealed," she murmured, voice low, almost thoughtful, "…I would've gone for it."
A faint pause. Her lips curved slightly.
"…But now?" She scoffed. "…That'd just be a waste."
Seryna glanced at her briefly, eyes calm but sharp.
"…You're thinking clearly."
Kaelira didn't reply.
Because around them—
It had already begun.
The hesitation—
Was gone.
A man lunged forward—
Only to be intercepted mid-step.
A fist drove into his throat.
He dropped. Didn't get back up.
Elsewhere—
Two clashed violently—
One slipped—
The other didn't hesitate.
A strike.
A body fell.
No pause. No regret.
Numbers.
That was all anyone saw now.
Numbers to reach. Numbers to survive.
The battlefield fractured.
Not into teams—
But into **hunters.**
And **targets.**
Seryna's gaze sharpened as she tracked multiple movements at once.
"…They're not holding back anymore."
Tharic shifted uneasily. "…They never were…"
"…No," she said quietly. "…But now they don't have a reason to pretend otherwise."
Lucien swallowed, eyes darting across the chaos. "…This is insane…"
Kaelira stepped forward slightly.
Not rushing. Not charging.
Just… ready.
"…Stay close if you don't want to die," she muttered without looking back.
A scream cut through the air.
Then another.
Blood hit the ground.
More bodies dropped.
And above it all—
The unseen observer still watched.
Unmoving.
Uninterested in the chaos itself—
But deeply interested in **one thing.**
Draven.
Because unlike the others—
He hadn't moved.
Not yet.
Not even when the killing began again.
He simply stood there.
Chains hanging loosely.
Crimson eyes scanning.
Measuring.
Calculating.
As if—
Ten kills—
Meant nothing.
And somewhere in that stillness—
Something far more dangerous—
Was deciding **when** to act.
Draven didn't move.
But his eyes did.
A shift. Subtle. Precise.
Then—they locked.
Across the chaos. Across the bodies. Across the blood-soaked ground.
Crimson met green.
The world seemed to narrow for a single moment.
The figure stood in the fracture between motion and shadow.
Black hair.
Still. Watching.
Not hunting. Observing.
Their gazes held.
No words. No movement.
But something passed between them.
Recognition.
Not of identity—
But of **weight.**
Of danger.
Of something that did not belong among the rest.
Then—the man moved.
Not a step. Not a dash.
He was simply—gone.
Swallowed by the chaos.
Like he had never been there.
Draven's eyes lingered for half a second longer.
Then shifted away.
Interest noted. Filed.
Not pursued.
Because the battlefield—
Was still screaming.
A body slammed into the ground nearby.
Another followed.
A man tried to crawl away—
Only to be dragged back—
And silenced.
The air grew heavier. Thicker.
Time crawled forward.
Seconds stretched. Then snapped.
**4:12 remaining.**
The massacre didn't slow. It escalated.
Participants moved with desperation now.
Not just to survive—
But to **reach ten.**
A fighter drove his fist into another's chest—
Didn't stop.
Again. Again.
Until the body stopped moving.
Elsewhere—
Two worked together—
Until one turned on the other.
A betrayal.
Quick. Efficient.
Necessary.
Numbers mattered more than allies now.
Seryna's gaze hardened. "…They've abandoned structure."
Tharic's voice was low. "…There was never any to begin with."
The massacre didn't slow.
It deepened.
Every second carved something away from the battlefield.
Less hesitation. Less restraint.
More bodies.
Lucien's voice cut through it again, tight, strained—"…This is insane…"
Kaelira's ears flicked sharply. Her head turned just enough. "…Then shut up," she said flatly.
Lucien's jaw clenched. "…I'm just saying—"
"…No," she cut in, voice sharper now. "…You're repeating yourself."
A pause. "…If you don't know what to say, don't say anything."
Lucien's eyes flashed. "…You—"
Kaelira's gaze snapped fully onto him this time. Cold. "…Watch your mouth, brat."
The air between them tightened instantly.
For a moment—it almost turned.
But—
Seryna didn't intervene.
Because she didn't need to.
Lucien looked away first.
Frustration swallowed. Not gone. Just buried.
Beside them, Tharic remained still. Silent. Watching.
His eyes tracked the battlefield—not emotionally, not reactively—but with quiet, sobering clarity.
*A few hours ago…*
*That could've been me.*
A man screamed as his arm snapped under pressure.
Another dropped without a sound.
Tharic exhaled slowly.
*No…* *It would've been worse.*
If he hadn't joined them—
If he had stayed with his original team—
He wouldn't even have lasted this long.
He wouldn't have made it to—or past—the maze.
His fingers tightened slightly at his side.
Not fear. Recognition. Of reality.
The timer burned overhead.
**01:23**
The killing intensified.
Because now—it was running out.
Desperation sharpened movements.
Mistakes increased.
And mistakes—
Meant death.
A participant lunged recklessly—
Overextended—
And paid for it instantly.
A counterstrike—clean.
He dropped.
Elsewhere—
A man stood over two bodies—
Breathing hard. Eyes wild.
Counting. Always counting.
Then—the final seconds approached.
**0:10**
Everything sped up.
Movements blurred.
Strikes became desperate.
Final chances. Final kills.
**0:03**
A last scream.
A final impact.
**0:01**
Silence—
For half a heartbeat.
Then—a pulse.
Across the battlefield.
Not one.
Multiple.
Mana surged. Exploded back into existence.
Those who had reached ten—
Changed.
Power flooded into their bodies—violent. Unrestrained.
Some staggered. Some laughed. Some immediately turned—
And attacked again.
Because now—they had power.
And nothing—
Was stopping them anymore.
Seryna's eyes narrowed slightly. "…It's begun."
Kaelira exhaled slowly, a grin tugging at her lips again.
"…Now this…"
A faint crackle of energy danced along her fingers.
"…is where it gets interesting."
Lucien swallowed.
Because the battlefield—
Had just reset.
But worse.
Far worse.
Because now—the monsters—
Were awake.