The morning after the confrontation with the cloaked figures arrived with unsettling stillness. There was no loud announcement, no blaring horns. Only the soft hum of wind brushing across the high stone walls of the arena compound, and the tension that thickened the air like mist. Those who had survived the 2v2 trial, now reduced to less than ten individuals, emerged one by one from their rooms, finding their way to the center courtyard.
Ethan stood among them, his body still aching from the previous night. Not from wounds—those had long been healed by Divinacea—but from something deeper. A lingering weariness of the soul. He hadn't slept. Not really. The image of the cloaked figure's fractured mask haunted his thoughts, and the cold sensation of peering into something... godlike, yet alien, refused to fade.
Alessia stood beside him, unusually silent. She had changed. Ethan could feel it. There was a sharper edge to her now. Not cruel, but focused. She had tasted death more than once in the last days, and it had honed her resolve like a blade against stone.
The remaining contestants, including a few recognizable faces—Kota, the fierce brawler with a cybernetic arm; Juno, the calculating woman who always seemed to observe more than she let on; and Rayan, the quiet man who had killed efficiently and without remorse—all waited without speaking.
Finally, as the sun reached its zenith, a door opened with a low groan.
The billionaire emerged.
He was dressed in simple white robes now, a stark contrast to the sleek suits he wore before. His face bore a tranquil smile, but his eyes... they were not those of a man in control. They were the eyes of someone being watched.
"Congratulations," he said smoothly. "You've proven yourselves worthy once again. The gods are intrigued. And so, the next phase begins."
Behind him, the wall began to rumble. Cracks appeared along the ground as a circular section of the courtyard began to sink. Dust rose in swirls. When the earth finally settled, a spiral staircase lay revealed, descending into darkness.
"The Labyrinth," the billionaire said. "A sacred trial designed by those far above me. Down there, you will find the path forward—or your end."
Kota spat on the ground. "Another death trap. Fantastic."
The billionaire chuckled. "You will not be pitted against each other. Not directly. The Labyrinth is... different. It is a trial of choice, of truth, and of trust."
Juno raised an eyebrow. "And what does that mean, exactly?"
He gestured to the staircase. "It means your enemies may not be the ones walking beside you."
With that cryptic remark, he stepped aside.
Ethan looked to Alessia, and she gave a slight nod.
They descended first.
The staircase twisted downward, the walls narrowing as they sank further from daylight. Torches ignited on their own as they passed, casting long shadows along the stone corridor. The air grew damp, and the silence became oppressive. Alessia walked ahead, her footsteps echoing.
"What do you think is down here?" she asked softly.
"More trials," Ethan said. "More games. Maybe... revelations."
She glanced back. "You saw something in that cloaked figure, didn't you? Something more than just power."
Ethan hesitated. "I think I saw what lies at the center of all this. Not just gods. Not just trials. But a... purpose."
"And?"
"I don't know yet."
Eventually, they reached a stone door carved with intricate symbols. It slid open soundlessly.
The chamber beyond was circular, its ceiling impossibly high. Eight other passageways branched out from its center, each labeled with a rune Ethan couldn't read. But his instincts—and Divinacea—pulled him toward the second tunnel on the left.
The billionaire's voice echoed once more from above, disembodied.
"Each of you must choose your path. Some may walk alone. Others may find intersections. Not all paths lead to the end."
One by one, the others entered the chamber behind them. After a brief, silent nod of respect between contestants, they began to split.
Kota marched toward a path marked by fire.
Juno chose one lined with mirrors.
Rayan vanished into a corridor drenched in shadow.
Ethan turned to Alessia. "We stick together?"
She nodded, and they stepped into the path their instincts guided them toward.
The hallway became a tunnel. Then a slope. The deeper they went, the more the air buzzed with energy.
They reached a massive door with no handle.
"A test," Alessia whispered. "Of trust, he said."
Ethan stepped forward. As his hand touched the door, an inscription ignited:
ONE MUST FALL TO OPEN THE WAY.
They stared at it.
"It doesn't say die," Alessia said carefully.
"But it means sacrifice."
Without another word, she dropped to her knees.
"What are you—"
"I yield to you, Ethan. Whatever this test is, I trust you more than I trust myself right now."
Before he could protest, the floor glowed beneath her. The door groaned. Opened.
But Alessia vanished.
"Alessia!"
A voice echoed, not hers.
"She is safe. For now. Walk your path, Healer. She walks hers."
Ethan stepped through the door.
On the other side, he found himself alone.
The tunnel twisted, then widened into an enormous chamber. Pillars of light surrounded him, each containing a frozen memory—his first kill in the competition, the moment he healed a dying child, the day his mother died.
"Face your truth," the voice said.
And Ethan did.
Each memory burned.
Each memory freed him.
And as the chamber faded, replaced by yet another door, he realized something:
He was being forged.
Not just into a survivor.
But into something... more.