The crimson light of the labyrinth faded at last.
The crowd's roar still echoed through the colosseum, rising like a storm that refused to die.
Ten names had been announced.
Ten gates closed.
Ten survived.
But the world wasn't quiet.
All across the arenas—across districts and factions—disbelief rippled through every screen.
"Zame—the one who eliminated the most—is out?"
"And Gaja, ranked fourth in the tournament odds, gone before the semis?"
"Impossible!"
"Several of the strongest A-Ranks from every faction have already fallen—and this was only the qualifiers!"
Then the narrator spoke.
"I see a lot of shocked faces among the audience—and even among the participants," the announcer said, his tone calm but teasing.
He paused, letting the suspense—and the silence—grow.
Then he continued:
"But not to worry. This year's tournament includes four Wild Cards—participants whose performance, influence, or impact during the trial earned them direct passage to the Semi-Final Phase."
A faint grin touched his voice as he added:
"So, some of your favorites might just return."
The colosseum fell silent again.
"**First — **
The participant with the highest confirmed elimination count…"
The screens flashed red.
Blood-soaked corridors replayed in brutal slow motion.
Zame — The Blood Shark.
"Total eliminations: 9."
A roar tore through the stands.
The predator had earned his way back—not through mercy, but through carnage.
"**Second — **
The participant with the highest recorded assists count and team-support ratio."
The golden aura reappeared across every monitor.
Gaja — The Mighty Elephant.
"Five coordinated rescues. Three direct assists. One act of self-sacrifice."
The crowd's reaction was different this time—respectful, almost reverent.
"**Third — **
The most popular among the eliminated participants—one whose heart, spirit, and determination moved the audience."
Iridescent scales shimmered across the screen.
A graceful silhouette rose amid faint crimson light.
Liora — The Beautiful Butterfly.
"Wings of grace, heart of persistence."
A wave of applause spread through the arena like falling rain.
"**And finally … **
The last Wild Card—selected by the system itself.
Not by eliminations. Not by cooperation. Not by popularity …
But by potential."
The lights flickered.
The arena held its breath.
"At only twenty years of age," the announcer continued, his voice steady but charged with awe,
"just two years since his Awakening …
and already an A-Rank—a talent many believe to be once in a generation."
The crowd began to murmur, tension rising like static in the air.
Every camera in the arena turned toward the massive central screen, waiting for a name to appear.
Rin — The Silent Executioner.
The announcer's voice steadied again, carrying over the roaring crowd.
"And there you have it—our four Wild Cards."
"Together with the ten gate survivors, these are the fourteen participants who advance to the next phase of the Blood Moon Tournament—the Semi-Finals."
The screens above the arena began to shift, forming a massive digital wall.
One by one, portraits flickered into view—each framed in their faction's emblem.
Enforcers — Order above instinct.
• Kongu — The Steel Gorilla
• Orien — The King of the Jungle
• Rin — The Silent Executioner
Predators — Instinct is law.
• Byte — The Echo Bat
• Zame — The Blood Shark
Sentinels — The light that never breaks.
• Duma — The Golden Flash
• Gaja — The Mighty Elephant
• Liora — The Beautiful Butterfly
• Lume — The Radiant Queen
Drifters — Unbound. Unruled. Unpredictable.
• Arbokh — The Venom King
• Falko — The Hawk Hunter
• Vail — The Phantom Skin
• Varga — The Lone Wolf
• Waraabe — The Laughing Hyena
The crowd roared again as the images stabilized, the factions glowing in their signature colors—blue, crimson, gold, and silver.
The Blood Moon pulsed once more overhead.
The narrator spoke.
"Four factions.
Fourteen fighters.
One throne."
The crowd's cheers thundered like a storm.
"In this stage," his voice deepened, heavy with anticipation,
"there will be no mazes. No tricks. No gates."
"Only one-on-one battles."
The colosseum lights pulsed red and gold as the crowd erupted again.
The broadcast cut rapidly between faces.
The arena lights dimmed, and the giant central screen flickered once more.
His voice continued:
"Each participant will be assigned a number—from one to fourteen.
Once assigned, they will be paired randomly, determining the seven matchups that decide who enters the Final Phase."
The silence was electric.
The mechanical hum deepened, vibrating through the entire colosseum.
Then it stopped.
The narrator's voice broke through the tension—steady, deliberate, and commanding.
"Round One — Kongu versus Byte."
The screen flared to life, showing the Enforcer standing tall beneath the crimson lights, his half-zipped jacket fluttering with each breath.
"The wait's over," Kongu said quietly.
Across the arena, Byte tilted her head with a faint grin.
"So I'm fighting an Enforcer," she said. "Hmm … my type."
"Round Two — Vail versus Orien."
The scene shifted.
Vail's shadowed figure stood near the observation deck, barely visible beneath the red glow.
A faint grin cut across his face.
"So they're sending me against the king of the jungle," he whispered. "Should be easy."
Orien exhaled once, crossing his arms, his eyes burning like molten gold.
"The king will have to remind him how small he is."
"Round Three — Zame versus Arbokh."
Gasps erupted through the stands.
Zame's grin widened instantly—sharp and wild.
"Heh. Finally … someone worth biting into."
Deep within another chamber, Arbokh's silhouette stirred.
His eyes opened slowly, reptilian slits glowing beneath the haze.
"I will teach you the difference between a Mythic Rank … and a simple A-Rank."
"Round Four — Varga versus Falko."
Varga stood beneath flickering lights, silver eyes calm and focused.
"So we'll finally settle it, Falko," Varga muttered.
Falko's wings stretched fully, the faint hum of feathers slicing the air.
"Today's the day you die, killer," he said, voice low and trembling with rage.
"Round Five — Gaja versus Duma."
The crowd roared at the matchup—two Sentinels colliding.
Gaja stood with quiet composure, hands folded.
"Tch … this isn't what I wanted."
Duma cracked his neck and grinned.
"You're no match for my speed, Gaja."
"Round Six — Waraabe versus Lume."
Waraabe laughed, hands buried in his pockets.
"Heh. I don't even know who you are—but I feel luck's on my side anyway."
Lume looked up, calm and unwavering.
"Then let's see how far your luck really goes."
"Round Seven — Rin versus Liora."
Rin adjusted his gloves, expression unreadable.
"So … this is my test."
Liora smiled faintly, the crimson light dancing across her wings.
"I got the little boy. Don't fall in love now."
The crowd's silence shattered into a roaring wave of excitement.
The narrator's voice echoed one last time, calm and final.
"Fourteen remain.
Seven battles await.
The time for games is over.
The Semi-Finals will begin in 30 minutes."
The screen dimmed to black.
The Blood Moon's glow shimmered across the arena like a silent omen.
© 2025 Moku. All rights reserved. INSTINCTBOUND is an original work by Moku. Unauthorized reproduction or distribution is prohibited.