The PTVs rumbled along the cracked roads of the city outskirts, the convoy weaving through abandoned highways, broken infrastructure, and the husks of buildings long since reclaimed by nature.
Hope shifted uncomfortably.
They had been riding for almost four hours now, and his legs were starting to go numb.
He flexed his fingers against the cold handles of his twin sickle-daggers, using their familiar weight to keep his mind occupied.
The others weren't doing any better.
Some students were leaning against the reinforced walls of the PTV, eyes closed in nervous concentration. Others were fidgeting, gripping their weapons as if the metal alone could protect them from what was coming.
Then—
The PTV jolted to a sudden halt.
A moment of silence followed.
Then—
"Get down!"
The sharp order rang from outside, snapping everyone out of their trance.
Hope exhaled quietly, shaking the numbness from his legs as he rose.
As soon as the armored doors hissed open, the students stepped out into the ruin.
Hope's boots crunched against the dry, broken ground as he took in the scene.
Other students were already spilling out from the neighboring PTVs, their movements stiff and wary.
He quickly estimated their numbers—
At least fifteen PTVs, each carrying around ten students.
That made it roughly one hundred fifty students in total.
A small army.
But the battlefield ahead of them didn't care for numbers.
The landscape was ruined beyond recognition—jagged rock formations jutted from the cracked earth like the fangs of a beast, twisted remnants of buildings stood in crumbling silence, and the air itself carried the faint, sickly stench of Veil corruption.
This place was once a civilized area.
Now, it was a graveyard.
Hope's eyes flickered to the Ascended supervisors, who stood apart from the students.
Fifteen of them.
Silent. Watchful.
Their presence was calm, unshaken—these were people who had already crossed the threshold of power and survived.
Some of them had weapons strapped to their backs, while others didn't carry anything at all, relying solely on their abilities.
Hope forced himself to relax.
With them here, they wouldn't let the students die in droves.
Or at least—he hoped they wouldn't.
The Head Supervisor stepped forward.
A man with a stern face, dressed in reinforced combat armor, his expression unreadable.
He swept his gaze over the gathered students before finally speaking.
"The creatures in this area are, at most, Corrupted Fiends."
Murmurs rippled through the students.
Corrupted Fiends.
Creatures tainted by the Veil, twisted beyond recognition.
Most of them were bigger than humans, with thickened, unnatural flesh, grotesque features, and a hunger that could never be satisfied.
They weren't the strongest among Veil creatures.
But they weren't weak either.
If you weren't careful, even a single Corrupted Fiend could kill you.
The supervisor continued.
"We have fifteen Ascended here to protect you. Should you face a situation beyond your capabilities, they will intervene."
Some students visibly relaxed.
Hope didn't.
"This place was once a civilized settlement," the supervisor said, glancing at the ruins around them.
"It was raided by Veil creatures."
His voice was flat—detached, as if it were nothing more than a footnote in history.
"Although we wiped out the strongest threats, we left the weakest among them for training purposes. The government has approved this."
A chill ran through Hope's spine.
They had left these monsters alive on purpose?
No wonder this place felt like a trap waiting to be sprung.
Still, the logic was undeniable.
Fighting Veil creatures in a controlled environment was better than being thrown straight into the Soul Realm or Ashlands.
They needed experience.
Even if it meant risking their lives.
The supervisor's gaze darkened.
"Your mission is simple."
"Kill the creatures."
"Collect their Soul Cores."
Hope's fingers twitched slightly at that.
Soul Cores.
The condensed essence of a Veil creature's existence.
When harvested, they could be used to strengthen oneself, forge artifacts, or even be sold on the black market for insane profits.
It was a valuable currency—one of power.
And now—
They were being told to hunt for it.
"Whoever collects the most Soul Cores—wins."
Silence.
The weight of those words sank in.
This wasn't just a test of survival anymore.
It was a competition.
Hope's lips curled slightly.
"Of course they'd do this."
Pitting students against each other was a surefire way to bring out their true natures.
Desperation.
Greed.
Betrayal.
Even if they weren't killing each other, there would be rivalry.
Some would form alliances.
Others would try to hoard kills for themselves.
The supervisors didn't just want them to learn how to fight—
They wanted to see how they acted under pressure.
It's okay to team up," the supervisor added.
"Teams will also be granted gifts if they perform well."
More murmurs.
So that was the incentive.
Teaming up had its advantages—you could cover each other's weaknesses, take down stronger enemies, and split the rewards.
But it also had drawbacks.
Betrayal.
Deception.
Greedy teammates who might stab you in the back when it mattered most.
Hope exhaled.
He already knew his answer.
No teams.
No alliances.
He was going to do this alone.
Not because he thought he was stronger than the others.
But because he didn't trust anyone.
And in a battlefield like this—
"Trust will get you killed."