Silence filled the room after her words.
"…I would've erased you myself."
The monitor beside the bed continued its steady rhythm.
Beep…
Beep…
Beep…
Aren stared at her for a moment, trying to determine if she was joking.
Her expression gave nothing away.
No smile.
No hostility.
Just calm certainty.
Aren slowly leaned back against the pillow.
"…Good to know."
The woman didn't react.
Instead, she turned the tablet back toward herself and scrolled through the information displayed on the screen.
For several seconds, neither of them spoke.
Aren's mind, however, was racing.
Fragments of the Trial replayed in his memory.
The Aberrant's scream.
The collapsing arena.
The glowing circle meant to erase him.
And then—
The fractures.
Something had responded inside him.
Something that shouldn't have existed.
Aren felt his fingers tighten slightly against the blanket.
He kept his expression neutral.
Whatever had happened in that moment…
He wasn't ready to talk about it.
Not to her.
Not to anyone.
The woman glanced up briefly, her steel-blue eyes studying him again.
"You seem calmer than most first survivors."
Aren shrugged faintly.
"Panicking won't help."
"True."
She tapped something on the tablet.
"The medical scans say you're stable."
Aren raised an eyebrow.
"Was that ever in doubt?"
"For a moment."
Her eyes moved across the data again.
"Trials tend to break people."
She spoke the words casually, but Aren noticed something.
She was watching his reactions carefully.
Measuring them.
Testing them.
Aren exhaled slowly.
"…That thing in the arena."
"The Aberrant," she corrected.
"Right."
Aren looked toward the ceiling briefly before returning his gaze to her.
"Does that happen often?"
"More often than people would like."
That answer told him almost nothing.
She locked the tablet and set it aside on the small table near the bed.
Then she crossed her arms lightly.
"But the arena collapsing that quickly?"
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
"That part is unusual."
Aren remained silent.
He could feel where this conversation was going.
And he had no intention of helping it get there.
After a moment she spoke again.
"When the erasure field activated… you said you fought back."
Aren nodded slightly.
"Instinct."
"Instinct?"
"Yes."
His tone remained calm.
"I didn't want to die."
That much was true.
Just not the whole truth.
Her gaze lingered on him for several seconds.
Then she finally straightened.
"…Fair enough."
Aren wasn't sure if she believed him.
But she didn't push further.
Instead, she picked up the tablet again.
"For now, the official report says the Trial collapsed after the Aberrant destabilized the arena."
Aren frowned slightly.
"You say that like it's not normal."
"It isn't."
She glanced at him once more.
"But sometimes strange things happen in Trials."
The way she said it felt deliberate.
As if she was leaving space for something unsaid.
Then she turned toward the door.
"Get some rest."
Aren blinked.
"That's it?"
"For now."
She paused at the door before adding one last thing.
"Try not to die before the next one."
Then she stepped out of the room.
The door slid shut with a quiet mechanical sound.
Aren lay there silently.
The room felt larger now.
Quieter.
His eyes slowly moved toward his right hand.
He lifted it slightly.
For a moment… nothing happened.
But deep inside, he could still feel it.
Like faint cracks hidden beneath the surface of reality.
Waiting.
Aren lowered his hand again.
"…Yeah," he muttered quietly to himself.
"Definitely not telling them about that."
The monitor continued its steady rhythm beside him.
Beep…
Beep…
Beep…
And somewhere beyond the walls of the medical wing—
Decisions about his future were already beginning.
Even if Aren Vale didn't know it yet.
The door slid shut behind her.
The room fell silent again.
Beep…
Beep…
Beep…
Aren stared at the ceiling for a while, listening to the steady rhythm of the monitor beside him.
His mind refused to settle.
The Trial.
The Aberrant.
The moment reality itself seemed to crack apart.
His fingers curled slightly against the blanket.
Something had happened back there.
Something he couldn't explain.
And judging by the way that woman had been watching him…
He had a feeling explaining it would only make things worse.
Aren slowly pulled the wires from his arm.
The monitor immediately gave a small warning chirp.
He ignored it.
Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, his feet touched the cold floor.
His body still felt heavy, but the dizziness passed quickly.
"Still alive," he muttered.
That was already more than most Trial participants could say.
Aren stood up carefully.
A folded set of clothes rested on the small metal table beside the bed.
Simple.
Dark gray pants.
A plain black shirt.
Standard issue.
He changed quickly.
The medical gown dropped silently to the floor.
Once dressed, Aren moved toward the door.
For a moment, he hesitated.
Hospitals weren't usually this quiet.
No guards.
No alarms.
No one trying to stop him from leaving.
Either they trusted him…
Or they wanted to see what he would do.
Aren placed his hand against the panel beside the door.
The door slid open instantly.
A long corridor stretched ahead.
White walls.
Soft overhead lighting.
Several doors lined both sides of the hallway.
Most were closed.
Aren stepped out.
The floor beneath his boots made almost no sound.
At the far end of the corridor, a nurse glanced up from a tablet.
She looked at him briefly.
Then returned to her work.
No panic.
No questions.
So they expected him to wake up.
Aren walked slowly down the hallway.
Every movement felt deliberate.
Every detail felt watched—even if he couldn't prove it.
He passed several rooms.
One of the doors stood slightly open.
Inside, another patient lay unconscious on a medical bed.
Thin scars ran along the man's arms.
Trial survivor.
Or someone who hadn't been as lucky.
Aren continued walking.
The corridor eventually opened into a wider section of the building.
A large reinforced window revealed the outside world.
Aren stopped.
The view caught him off guard.
Beyond the facility walls stretched a massive city.
Tall metallic structures rose into the sky.
Transport lines moved silently between buildings.
Massive screens displayed rotating announcements and data.
And far in the distance—
Aren saw it.
A thin fracture running across the sky itself.
Like a crack in glass.
Barely visible.
But impossible to ignore once you noticed it.
His chest tightened slightly.
"So it wasn't just the Trial…"
The world really was broken.
A quiet voice spoke behind him.
"You're not supposed to be walking around yet."
Aren turned.
The same woman from earlier leaned casually against the wall near the corridor entrance.
Her arms were crossed.
Her expression calm.
But her eyes were sharp as ever.
Aren raised an eyebrow.
"You didn't stop me."
"No."
She pushed herself off the wall and walked closer.
"I didn't."
She stopped beside him, looking out at the fractured sky through the window.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then she said quietly,
"Most people who survive their first Trial spend days in recovery."
Aren shrugged slightly.
"Guess I'm a fast healer."
Her gaze shifted toward him.
"…Maybe."
She studied him for another moment.
Then she turned toward the hallway again.
"Since you're already up, you might as well come with me."
Aren frowned.
"Where?"
She started walking.
Without looking back she answered.
"Orientation."
Aren stood there for a second.
Then followed.
Because something told him that whatever came next…
The Trial had only been the beginning.