This time, there's one key difference in our journey to the next trial. It takes longer.
Even after fifteen minutes of walking, the corridor still stretches endlessly ahead with no sign of an exit.
But unlike before, there are now more whispers—light conversations exchanged among those around me. Of course, for normal people, going through everything we've endured would have left them traumatized, broken, and mentally shattered. But for us? The ones marching in this line have seen too much, experienced too much. What we're facing now isn't anything new.
After all, we aren't really children. We're souls with over thirty years of life experience, inhabiting these young bodies.
No wonder we're getting used to this place so quickly.
Until suddenly, the ground trembles.
Everyone freezes in place, arms instinctively spreading out, bracing themselves, ready to leap away in case something comes crashing down from above.
But while we react cautiously, the elders don't. Instead of looking alarmed, their expressions twist with irritation—anger, even.
"So it's started already, huh?" One of them mutters under his breath.
Immediately, another elder silences him with a sharp glare, as if warning him not to let us know what's happening on the surface.
Ah, I see...
It's a war.
And not just any war—a full-scale, all-or-nothing battle that will decide the fate of this kingdom.
The tremors, the hushed whispers among the elders, the way they bristle with frustration rather than fear—it all makes sense. Karthmere is crumbling under the weight of a conflict they have no choice but to win. And us? We're the key to their survival.
It isn't hard to piece together. A kingdom that resorts to such desperate, forbidden means—one that revives the dead, steals the souls of others, and throws them into blood-soaked trials—has clearly run out of options. As well as the insults thrown around by the other participants, the constant sneers about Karthmere being weak… they aren't just meaningless taunts. They're the truth.
"Keep moving! We're almost there!"
The sharp bark of an order snaps me from my thoughts. Like marionettes on fraying strings, our bare feet shuffle forward, forced into motion. The air grows colder, heavier, thick with the scent of damp stone and rusted metal.
At last, we reach the third chamber.
It's smaller than the previous ones, claustrophobic even. Unlike the vast, open spaces meant to test our endurance, this room feels suffocating. And at its very heart stands an ominous, roofless iron-barred cage—large enough to hold several people at once, its structure reinforced with thick chains, interlocking gears, and a set of rusted levers mounted on the side.
A lift.
"And? What the hell are we supposed to do this time?" one of the children demands as the iron gate slams shut behind us, the grinding of gears echoing through the chamber.
At the controls, the elder barely spares us a glance. Instead, he turns a rusted lever with an eerie calm, a smile creeping onto his face like he's savoring something we aren't in on… Then, with an air of quiet amusement, he finally speaks.
"Survive."
~~~~~
Slowly, we descend into the abyss, swallowed by darkness on all sides. Faint lights flicker in the distance—too dim to be of any use, either because they're too far away or simply too weak to pierce the gloom. Whatever source of illumination has been placed here, it does little to reveal anything beyond the faint shimmer of water directly beneath us.
And it doesn't take long to figure out what's about to happen.
This roofless cage we're trapped in… it's going to be submerged.
"Another water-based trial? Seriously?" someone mutters, their voice laced with irritation. But just as the complaint leaves their lips, we spot something—solid ground, stone flooring encircling the pool below. The murky, filthy water is contained, perfectly aligned with the size of our cage. Its purpose isn't clear, but one thing's certain: we can avoid getting drenched if we climb the bars and jump out before it's too late.
Instinct kicks in. Those nearest to the edges scramble up the iron bars, hoisting themselves over and leaping to safety. Meanwhile, those caught in the middle have no choice but to wait their turn, feet sinking into the chilling water as the cage dips lower.
"Shit, this water smells weird," mutters someone among those who haven't climbed fast enough.
And soon enough, the entire structure is submerged within the square pool.
Strangely, I seem to be the only one still questioning the setup—why design it like this? Why go through the trouble of making the cage the exact size of the pool and make it submerged? Was it just to prevent anyone from lingering inside?
A quick glance around tells me no one else cares. Not a single person stops to wonder about it. Which means, once again, I'm the idiot overthinking things.
With a sigh, I shake the thoughts away and step forward, moving toward the others who are still disoriented, unsure of what to do in this vast, shadow-choked space.
Some of them figure that heading toward the dim lights might give them a clue about what we're supposed to do.
Meanwhile, I choose to sit here on the cold stone floor near the sunken cage, joining the few who have also decided to simply wait. We watch in silence, waiting for the others—now halfway to one of the many faint red lights—to return with answers.
But only now do I realize it—an eerie sound has been echoing all along, its origin unknown… It's probably because earlier, when everyone was clustered together, the noise had been drowned out by hushed conversations, slipping unnoticed into the background.
And now, with only a few of us here left in silence, it's impossible to ignore.
I turn my head, straining my senses to pinpoint the source.
A scraping. A clattering. The hollow rattle of some objects shifting against each other… and something else. A creaking, or maybe—a grinding of teeth?
Then, a sudden chorus of screams rings out from the children who have reached the distant red glow. Their panic sends a ripple of unease through every ear, enough to make me rise to my feet, squinting into the darkness. But before I can take a step forward, the sound behind me grows louder—closer.
A realization strikes me like ice down my spine.
"Undead!"
The distant cry barely registers before the unmistakable clatter of bones fills my ears, now terrifyingly close. I spin around just in time to see them—three towering figures, stripped of flesh and muscle, their empty sockets locked onto me.
And then, steel flashes.
A blade arcs toward my throat, forcing my instincts into overdrive. I throw myself backward, my body reacting before my mind can catch up. The sword strikes the stone floor with a sharp clang, sending sparks scattering through the darkness.
A walking skeleton… A fucking living skeleton…
Deon, get a grip.
You should've expected this…
Magic exists in this world, remember?
Calm yourself down. You have to survive!
I kick off the ground, sprinting away alongside the others, but before we can get far, three more figures emerge from the darkness ahead.
These ones still have flesh clinging to their bones—barely. Their rotting bodies look moments away from becoming skeletal husks, yet there's no sign they'll stop moving anytime soon… And just like that, I understand exactly what kind of trial this is.
"We gotta fight… somehow," someone mutters beside me.
I know what they really mean.
And judging by the way everyone else tenses, so do they. That the answer to survival is right in front of us—clutched in the decayed hands of the undead. Greatswords, war hammers, axes—tools of death, waiting to be claimed.
The real problem now is—how?
Compared to these things, we're smaller, weaker, and barely holding on. And somehow, that's a sentence I never thought I'd ever say.
~~~~~