As soon as he stepped into the cube, Victor felt the air around him thicken, an intense heat crawling across his skin.
He raised his eyes and found himself beneath a scarlet sky.
No clouds.
No sun.
No moon.
Only an endless red expanse.
It wasn't natural.
It felt false — artificial — as though shaped by someone or something.
The once flat, empty landscape suddenly began to shift. A colossal rounded structure burst from the ground and rose at breathtaking speed.
It resembled the ancient Roman coliseums, except the stands were absurdly high, towering as if they could hold hundreds of thousands of spectators.
Those spectators appeared next—one by one—creatures of every shape and race materializing on the stands that ringed the arena, motionless like statues.
Some were half-human, half-beast. Others had bodies made of a gelatinous substance. Some looked like mythological beings—griffins, basilisks, and other creatures born from myth.
Then came the participants.
Victor had thought he would be the only human chosen for this trial, but he was gravely mistaken.
Hundreds of silhouettes appeared, spaced several meters apart.
Humans of every age, every origin.
Some trembled in terror, their eyes darting wildly. Others stared in blank confusion, hoping — praying — that they were still dreaming.
The youngest screamed and begged for help, pleading for someone to take them away from this hellish, alien place.
Only a handful managed to keep a calm façade.
Before Victor could fully take in his surroundings, a familiar dark-green text shimmered into view before him.
[Required number of participants reached]
[Trial initializing]
[Objectives]
– [Survive]
– [Win the tournament]
As the final line appeared, a deep masculine voice boomed throughout the entire coliseum, silencing every voice and turning every head.
« Welcome, everyone. »
The voice came from a raised balcony, where several shadowy figures could be glimpsed behind thick red curtains.
« I'll be brief. Today's tournament will consist of several battles — teams of five will face increasingly powerful creatures until only one remains victorious. »
The mysterious voice paused for effect.
« But first, a little warm-up. Let's rid ourselves of the weak and the unworthy. »
A sharp snap echoed through the arena.
The iron gates along the arena walls suddenly groaned open, revealing long corridors lined with torches that burned with a pale, icy blue light.
From the darkness beyond, chilling screams began to rise.
« Let the battle begin! »
Those words sent the spectators into a frenzy—a cacophony of guttural howls, claws scraping against stone, and inhuman laughter.
They wanted blood.
Panic erupted. The people in the arena's center fled toward the opposite side, desperate to escape whatever horrors were emerging from those corridors.
But Victor had other ideas.
He advanced instead, pushing against the terrified crowd, cane in hand, ready to strike at the slightest sign of danger.
People looked at him like he was insane.
The spectators, however, only roared louder, eager to see the wounded boy torn apart.
A horde of twenty or so Fallen surged into the arena, their faceless heads turning toward the lone figure standing defiantly before them.
« Fallen, huh? »
Victor sighed, tiredly, then turned away, completely ignoring the monsters before him.
These things weren't worth his time or his energy. He'd need to kill an impossible number of them before making any real progress.
But the monsters didn't share his indifference.
One lunged forward, its bladed arm slicing toward Victor's chest.
He didn't even seem to notice.
Until..
Thud
A gray head dropped to the sand.
The creature's body followed.
The entire arena froze.
Then, seconds later, the stands exploded in ecstatic howls — a thousand voices shrieking in a language Victor couldn't recognize.
Only two figures showed no reaction at all, as if what they'd witnessed were perfectly ordinary.
The remaining Fallen, however, felt it in their instincts—this human before them was no prey.
He was a hunter.
Fortunately for them, this hunter had no interest in prey so beneath him.
Victor continued forward, his cane sinking slightly into the hot sand with each step.
He sat down on the edge of the arena, leaving the creatures a clear path toward the rest of the crowd.
His dark eyes studied the panicked mass of humanity with quiet curiosity.
He wondered how many would survive the slaughter.
To his surprise, two others followed his lead, sitting calmly on the sand that covered the coliseum floor.
The first was a tall woman—around one meter ninety—with snow-white skin and long wavy red hair cascading on a spotless crimson gown that looked completely out of place here.
The second was a young girl about his age, with Asian features and short black hair streaked with blonde, cut into a messy bob. She wore a typical East Asian school uniform.
Even from afar, Victor could sense it.
They were powerful.
Still, he turned his attention back to the carnage unfolding before him.
Unsurprisingly, the first Fallen met no resistance at all, cutting down everyone in their path, scattering limbs and organs across the blood-soaked sand.
Screams of terror and agony filled the air, to the delight of the monstrous spectators, who reveled in the crimson spectacle.
But buried deep within their genes, humans—like all animals—still possessed a powerful survival instinct.
Soon, about twenty men and women began to stand out, managing to kill some of the creatures and gradually growing stronger, turning the tide in their favor.
Two women in particular stood out, cutting through enemies at an impressive speed.
One seemed to paralyze her opponents with every hit, while the other was as agile as a cat, dodging attacks effortlessly.
A man also performed admirably, tearing a creature's head from its neck with disconcerting ease.
Having observed it all, Victor came to a conclusion.
Most of these people had never fought before, despite the apocalypse that had struck five days ago.
It was likely that some organizations—governments, perhaps—had built shelters to protect survivors.
Interesting.
If that were true, then maybe—just maybe—he'd finally have a chance to do what he'd always wanted.
Absentmindedly, his fingers traced the long scar stretching from his lips to his ears.
To destroy the monster that had haunted him since birth with his own hands.
Slowly.
Painfully.
Victor refocused.
It wasn't time to think about that yet.
He had other things to deal with.
« Very good! I see some of you have stood out quite nicely today. »
The owner of the voice sounded amused, clearly satisfied with the morbid spectacle he had just witnessed.
Victor couldn't help thinking how strange it was to enjoy such carnage.
He had watched too—but not out of pleasure.
Only curiosity.
Right ?
He brushed off the thought. The psychology of this creature didn't interest him.
« Now that our little appetizer is over we'll begin the first round. Participants, form your teams. You have five minutes. »
Victor didn't hesitate.
He rose slowly and walked toward the center of the coliseum.
The two women he had noticed earlier did the same.
They moved without haste, as if time itself no longer mattered.
The three of them stopped, facing one another.
From this distance, Victor noticed details he had missed before.
The red-haired woman had a long scar running from her forehead, across her left eye, down to her cheek—giving her a fierce, battle-worn appearance. Her deep blue eyes glimmered faintly with gold.
The other girl—about one meter sixty, dressed like a school student—was covered in cuts. Her torn uniform barely clung to her frame, held together by scraps of fabric. Yet she showed no sign of pain.
The latter smiled, her expression oddly sincere.
« Hey, Akane. Nice to meet you. »
« Victor. »
« Helene. »
The two replied at once—just their names. Nothing more was needed.
Akane's smile faltered, replaced by a frown.
« Can't you two be a little more polite, you assholes? »
Her two companions raised an eyebrow in perfect unison at her sudden outburst.
« Speaking too much is beneath us. »
« It's pointless. »
Akane turned to Helene, incredulous.
« Wait.. did you just refer to yourself in the plural? »
The tall redhead didn't answer, only lowering her gaze to meet Akane's bewildered eyes.
Victor, meanwhile, found the whole situation odd. Neither woman had reacted to his disfiguring scar at all.
That was… unusual.
Even Lucie had shown signs of disgust—at least at first.
Perhaps these two had long since grown numb to the omnipresence of death, and forgotten what beauty—or normality—even meant.
Or perhaps they never carred.
He didn't have time to dwell on it, as the man and the two women Victor had noticed earlier were now approaching, anger written across their faces.