There are exactly thirty-two of us left—thirty-two children standing in a tight circle around the massive pit, waiting as the muddy iron grate creaks and rattles its way upward, rising past our heads, the signal that it's time.
Then, with a single command, we dive.
The moment my body hits the freezing water, another shock tears through my nerves. Day two of this hell. But at least this time, I know the drill. No more first-day panic. No more hesitation. Everyone else seems to feel the same as well—quieter, steadier, harder to break.
After all, none of us are just ordinary children anymore.
"What's the usual age people hit level three?" I ask Garrik as he surfaces beside me, shaking off the icy water.
"What? Oh… let me think." He exhales sharply, as if pulling from a memory long buried. "I reached level three when I turned eighteen. Most people, even with constant training and daily fights, don't get there until at least seventeen."
"And this body of ours… how old do you think we are now?"
"Twelve, at best." He lets out a low chuckle. "Creepy, isn't it?"
"Yeah… I guess so," I mutter unenthusiastically before diving ahead of him—heading straight for the next open pit… then the next… and the next... and yet another after that.
Where I catch glimpses of some trying to kill each other, but at this point, the only ones left are those just as skilled in the water as they are at keeping themselves alive. Because of that, not a single attempt succeeds.
Not even by the time the diving trials are over—until we move on to the next.
~~~~~
"I've been keeping watch, and so far, five groups have formed among us. Each one has about three to five members, which means they're still looking for more recruits," Sigvald whispers to me from the farthest section of the conveyor belt, away from the others.
"That many, huh?"
"If you want, I could join one of them and... you know… tear them apart from the inside. Then move on to the next and do it all over again."
"That sounds insane… and wrong," I reply—not out of suspicion, but pity. "If you can slip into a group that easily and betray them just as effortlessly, then what's stopping you from doing the same to us?"
"Relax," he mutters, as if my concern is unwarranted. "I'd only target the ones who are rotten to the core. The degenerates. The ones who deserve to die."
His voice carries a certain conviction before he adds, "Besides… Do you doubt my loyalty to my master back when I was alive?"
That question shuts me up… I mean, even those around me don't question my abilities, which is why they act the way they do.
Siona, with her impenetrable defense… Garrik, with his mastery of high-velocity magic… Sigvald, with his keen intelligence and adaptability. Every single one of them is a force to be reckoned with. And I'd be a fool to underestimate them.
"Yeah. You're right," I admit. "Sometimes I forget that every single kid here is an expert at what they do. And I guess… I also forget that I'm in the body of a child myself." I let out a slow breath before meeting his gaze. "Take care of yourself, Sigvald. Reach out if you ever need our help."
The boy gives me a nod before climbing up, leaving me alone at the edge of the dark void below. Where one misstep here could mean death. As directly beneath me, the wooden belt reaches its end—flipping upside down before looping back. That's precisely why few dare to venture this low… And not because they're afraid or incapable.
But because they're wise enough to avoid needless risk… which only makes it the perfect place for me to experiment.
I test different ways to climb, adjusting my grip in countless ways to find the most secure hold and even attempt risky, unconventional techniques just to see what works. After all, to invent something new, one must be willing to attempt what others deem foolish and absurd—until the moment it proves its worth.
And even if it doesn't, at least I'll know. At least I'll learn.
And then, just like the diving trials, this one stretches on for three hours—yet not a single person falls due to sabotage, exhaustion, or carelessness. Since by now, we all understand the main purpose behind both of these trials is just to force us to level up as fast as possible.
That much is clear the moment another level-up window appears before me as we step toward the third trial… the one where everything is a little bit different.
~~~~~
For the first fifteen minutes, the immortal monster hasn't revealed itself yet. And of course, that's more than enough time for all of us to arm ourselves—up against the undead with nothing but our bare hands at first. Although this time, I only manage to secure a one-handed sword, while my beloved sharp dagger from last night is nowhere to be found.
But it really doesn't matter where I left it. Because it seems any weapon abandoned here would eventually be reclaimed by the undead, as their endless waves ensure nothing stays untouched for long… After all, death's a constant in the war raging above.
It never stops, not for a single second. Even now, the faint tremors echoing through the ground are proof that the battle still rages on.
Maybe one day, when those faint rumbles vanish completely, it'll mean something good. Or maybe something far worse… I don't know. Karthmere's desperate—and there's no chance the chaos above would end because they won. If anything, it would mean they lost. And if that happens… Truthfully, again, I have no idea what will become of us. I mean, if those damn old fools die, I'm afraid we'll lose our only way to remove the Nyxthorn roots from our bodies—or at the very least, any means to stop ourselves from dying three years from now just from the spread of it alone. Damn it… Forget finding an answer to that for now. Because I need to find a way to escape this damn thing—if I want to be alive enough to figure everything else out later.
But more than that… I have to ask—why? Why was the very first thing this monster did after emerging from the shadows… come straight for me?!
"I think this creature is the type to hold a grudge for quite a long time."
After maneuvering the monster into slamming its own head against a stone pillar, a familiar boy's voice calls out from somewhere to my right. Garrik.
"You think!?" I shoot back, irritated.
"Are we doing the same thing as yesterday?"
"I don't know… If it can still regenerate even after being decapitated, then we might end up losing more than we gain."
"So, do you have another idea?" the boy asks again, falling into stride beside me the moment he sees me start running.
"..."
"Deon?"
"Sorry. I'm really trying to think of something about it, but my mind's still… I don't know."
"Oh… That's alright. Sorry. For now, let's just focus on throwing it off our scent, huh?"
As he says that, Garrik looks a little guilty—probably realizing he's been pushing too much responsibility onto me. Not that I mind. Honestly, I hadn't even noticed or thought about it. Still, knowing that this insecure kid actually cares makes me feel a bit relieved—until something suddenly clicks in my mind.
I turn to him. "Throwing off our scent, you said?"
"Yeah?" Garrik shoots me a confused look.
"The water... in the middle!"
His eyes widen in immediate protest. "No… No, no, no. That won't work. It's filthy, reeks like death. We'll just end up sick by morning if we jump in now!"
I tilt my head. "I bet once it loses my scent, you'll be next on its list, Garrik."
"No way. It'll definitely go after Siona first!"
Despite his protests, my feet are already carrying me, Garrik and the monster behind, straight toward the submerged cage… I meant to not give him much of a choice. If I jump in, he'll have no option but to follow. And why do I want him to come along? I have no idea. Maybe I just don't want to do something this stupid alone.
~~~~~