The grip tightened.
Amir couldn't breathe.
Cold fingers dug into his shoulder—
Too many.
Too wrong.
"…late…"
The voice overlapped itself.
"…late… late…"
Amir's vision shook.
"MOVE."
The command snapped through him.
He twisted—
Hard—
The grip slipped—
Just enough.
He stumbled forward—
Rolling—
Landing hard against the floor.
His breath came back in a sharp gasp.
"…what… was that…" he coughed.
Behind him—
Nothing.
No figure.
No body.
Only the sound of something dragging—
Inside the walls.
"…it's not outside…" Amir whispered.
"No," the Anito said.
"…it's inside the house…"
The walls creaked.
The floor shifted.
Like something was moving beneath them.
Then—
A scream.
Not distant.
Close.
Too close.
From deeper inside.
Amir froze.
"…someone else…"
"Stay focused," the masked fighter said.
"…we can't just leave them!"
"You will die if you rush."
"…and they'll die if we don't!"
Silence.
The masked fighter didn't respond.
That was enough.
Amir ran.
Ignoring the pain.
Ignoring the warning.
"…I'm not too late…" he muttered.
The hallway stretched.
Longer than it should have been.
The door at the end—
Shaking.
Something hitting it from the inside.
"…help… help…"
Amir's heart pounded.
He reached the door—
Hesitated.
Just for a second.
Then—
He kicked it open.
The room was dark.
Too dark.
Then—
A shape lunged.
Fast.
Amir reacted—
Too late—
SLAM—
The force sent him crashing back.
"…Gah—!"
His stick slipped from his hand.
The creature stood over him.
A boy.
Young.
Maybe ten.
"…kuya…" it whispered.
Amir froze.
"…no…"
The boy smiled.
Too wide.
"…you came too late…"
It lunged.
Amir couldn't move.
Not because of fear—
Because of hesitation.
That one second—
Again.
"MOVE."
Steel flashed—
SHING—
The masked fighter cut through the creature.
Clean.
Instant.
The boy collapsed.
Silence filled the room.
Amir didn't move.
Didn't breathe.
"…I saw him…" he said quietly.
"…he asked for help…"
No one answered.
"…I could've—"
"No."
The masked fighter's voice was firm.
"He was already taken."
Amir's hands clenched.
"…I hesitated…"
"Yes."
"…again…"
Silence.
The truth sat heavy.
Unavoidable.
"…if I keep doing that…" Amir said slowly—
"…more people will die."
The Anito spoke:
"Then stop hesitating."
"…it's not that easy…"
"No."
"…that was a kid…"
"Yes."
Amir looked down.
His hands were shaking.
Still.
"…I'm not strong enough…"
"No."
"…then what am I supposed to do?"
Silence.
Then—
"Get stronger."
Simple.
Cruel.
True.
The wind shifted again.
The voice returned.
Closer.
"…better… better…"
Amir froze.
"…it's watching again…"
"No," the Anito said.
"…it's not watching."
A pause.
"…it's learning."
Amir's chest tightened.
"…from me…?"
"Yes."
The masked fighter turned toward the doorway.
"…we leave," they said.
"…what?"
"It's no longer testing you."
A pause.
"…it's choosing."
The wind howled.
And for the first time—
Amir understood.
This wasn't random.
This wasn't chaos.
This was deliberate.
And somehow—
He was part of it.