Sai stepped into the open courtyard. The morning mist still clung to the stones and ruined walls, giving the place a sinister appearance. The fortress walls seemed alive: cracks, from which red stains seeped forth like traces of old battles, glimmered in the faint light. For the first time, he felt the full depth of this place—every detail spoke of beings for whom life and death were playthings.
The white-haired girl with a cigarette in her hand watched him from above, from one of the towers. Her red eyes were cold and clear, as if recording every movement of his body and every impulse of his consciousness. She began to descend the staircase slowly, and with each step, her gait became more graceful, almost theatrical.
"Let's begin for real," she said softly, but with a threat, "the Scarlet Games. This isn't just a test of your strength or agility. It tests what makes you yourself. Will you keep your sanity when the world around you crumbles?"
Sai remained silent. He already understood: no pity, no explanations worked here. Within these walls, there are no rules for the weak. There is only the law of survival and the trials conducted by those who live beyond human norms. He gripped his revolvers and stepped forward, feeling the new essence fill his body, how the shadow core spun within him, creating incredible concentration and control over every muscle.
"Watch carefully," the girl waved her hand, and the space before Sai began to change. "Every step could be your last. Every wrong impulse—death. But not physical death," she smirked, "the kind that kills the spirit."
Sai moved forward. The fortress courtyard changed in an instant: labyrinths of walls grew from the stone, from which twisted figures peered out—semi-transparent, semi-living, semi-otherworldly. Shadows merged with the stone, the sand, and the ash on the ground, creating the illusion of a living nightmare.
"The first stage is navigation," he heard her voice nearby, though she remained on the tower, "you must pass through the labyrinth without straying from the path, without succumbing to panic."
Sai's every movement was precise. He felt the darkness around him not as emptiness, but as a flow, a texture of space that could be studied and used. Every shadow that tried to touch him was perceived as a signal, a clue, not a threat. His movements became almost a fusion of body and darkness.
"Excellent," the girl whispered. "But this is only the beginning. The Scarlet Games test not only the body. There are traps for the mind here. You must pass the trials I've set and remain yourself, without losing control."
Illusions began to emerge from the walls: images of people he knew, images of those he had lost, all mixed with the dark energy that warped reality. Sai felt a faint impulse of emotion but immediately blocked it. He was not human—at least, not in the former sense. Any feeling could be switched off by concentrating the shadow core, concentrating the darkness around his body.
"Hmm…" the girl sat on a stone, tucking her legs under her, smoking her cigarette, "all people are the same, they hardly change. They hope, they wait, they rely on salvation. But you…" her gaze became intent, "you are different."
Sai didn't answer. He analyzed the labyrinth, noted points of cover, places where the shadows intensified. His consciousness became a tool of strategy, every step a preparation for the next. He no longer feared the darkness, felt no fatigue, sought no help. He was on his own, and that was his strength.
"Second stage," the girl said, "here, opponents appear. Creatures that feed on fear and doubt. They see your weakness and use it. But you…" she paused, playing with the cigarette smoke, "you've held on so far."
Sai saw figures beginning to form from the darkness. They weren't fully material, but possessed enough power to cause pain if he were an ordinary human. He moved, fired his revolvers into the void, and each shot became a precise impact on the essence, dividing and dispersing the shadows.
"You learn quickly," the girl commented with the same indifferent smile. "But remember: not everything you see is real. Sometimes reality is a trap for the mind."
Sai moved slowly, cautiously, feeling every movement of the darkness. He knew he could only win by keeping his sanity. His new abilities allowed him to react instantly, anticipate movements, analyze magical signals.
"Interesting," the girl said, tilting her head, watching from above, "can you pass through all the Scarlet Games, remaining cold, calm, and ruthless?"
Sai remained silent. He wasn't seeking confirmation, wasn't trying to prove anything to her. He simply moved forward. Every movement was conscious. Every breath was part of controlling his body. Every moment was another step towards understanding the fortress and its rules.
"Good," the girl uttered quietly, almost a whisper, "you're holding on… but remember: the Scarlet Games are only beginning. We play to the end, or we don't play at all."
Sai stepped forward. The darkness around him continued to stir, shadows writhed, walls changed shape, and every movement tested his new capabilities. But he held on. He analyzed, adapted, lived solely by his thoughts and control over the darkness.
And for the first time, he felt that the real trials were not physical, but mental, emotional, and spiritual. And that the fortress, this Fortress of Blood—its secret and power—lay precisely in these "Scarlet Games," where only those who can remain themselves survive, despite the chaos and illusions.
The girl watched from above. Her cigarette had burned out, her red eyes glowed, reflecting excitement and interest. She knew: he was not human, but not a monster either. He was a new essence, entirely his own. And now… the real game was only just beginning.
---
Sai moved through the narrow passage where the fortress walls constricted like living things, driven by his thoughts and emotions. Every movement required concentration: a step to the right—and he almost fell into a gaping chasm; a step to the left—and a shadow almost touched him, trying to pierce through his mask and body.
The shadow-figures, like living nightmares, approached. They didn't attack directly—no, it was worse. They provoked, sought a weak point in his perception, creating illusions of sounds, smells, memories. One silhouette mimicked Sai's voice, another showed fragments of the destroyed world, reminding him of his losses.
"You think you can stay cold?" the girl's whisper sounded; she had now appeared on a narrow balcony above the passage. "Let's see how long you last when the illusion becomes more real than life."
Sai paused for a moment. His eyes beneath the mask glowed with a dull red light, registering every detail. He didn't give in—not because he felt no emotions, but because he had learned to use them as a tool, not a weakness.
He stepped forward, and one of the figures lunged at him. Instinctively, he dodged; his revolvers fired simultaneously, but the bullets had no target—they dissolved in the air, the shadow vanished, leaving only echoes of movement.
"You need to understand," the girl continued, her eyes burning with excitement, "this isn't just a test of strength. It's a test of your reaction, your logic, your endurance. Weakness here isn't death; weakness is defeat of the mind."
The labyrinth became more volatile. The floors trembled underfoot, the walls turned as if trying to confuse him, and thick smoke erupted from the cracks, obscuring visibility. Sai jumped, slid, rolled, using the darkness around him as both shield and weapon.
One of the shadow-figures mirrored his movement, appearing exactly where he intended to step. But Sai didn't falter—he changed trajectory, used the reflection of light from the cracks to blind it. The shadow disappeared, but another appeared immediately, faster, smarter.
"Good…" he muttered to himself, internally assessing each new threat. "Hold on. Just hold on."
With every second, the labyrinth became more alive, reacting to his strength and actions. Sai noticed how the space began to focus his attention on specific points, pushing him towards a decision, towards action. The shadows no longer just watched him—they analyzed, learned, adapted.
"You're good…" the girl said, now appearing directly in front of him on a column, the cigarette smoke playfully curling around her. "But that's not all. You've endured the physical part. Now for the psyche."
The walls around began to vibrate, creating sonic distortions. Suddenly, voices, whispers, screams—all merged into a single pain that had no beginning or end. Sai gripped his revolvers, his body acting automatically, while his mind, cold and calculating, analyzed every signal.
"Almost…" he told himself, "almost."
And then the labyrinth, as if satisfied with his reaction, stopped. The shadows ceased moving, the walls stopped vibrating, the smoke dissipated. The entire system seemed to have squeezed everything possible from him, tested the limits of his physical and mental strength.
The girl stepped towards him, holding the cigarette in her fingers, but now her smile was softer. She raised her hand, pointing towards the exit from the hall.
"You've managed…" she said, quietly but firmly. "For now. But the trials aren't over. Let's continue."
Sai nodded.