Kael.
I remembered more about him while the others shuffled around in awkward silence. He'd been weakest in class, weakest in strength. The kind of boy who wheezed after climbing three flights of stairs. Yet something about him still terrified me. Maybe it was the memory of his blood‑stained hands in that rain‑soaked corridor—or the uneasy certainty that Kael was a murderer, weakness or not.
A deep voice pulled me back to the present.
"Listen up!" Rex barked. His scar‑latticed scalp glinted under the lights. "We know names, but not motives. The first challenge drops in one hour—" he jabbed a finger at the glowing 60:00 timer on the ceiling. "—so we'd better lay our strengths on the table. I dont insist to open up your secrets or weaknesses ,Keep them secret; we might have to kill each other later. But until then—lets be friends."
No one laughed. But no one argued either.
Introductions
Lucian spoke first, voice smooth and confident. "I'm knowledgeable in… almost everything," he said, brushing imaginary dust from his pristine white suit threads. "Not a veteran fighter, but balanced enough."
Rex folded his arms. "You can see I'm a fighter," he growled. "The scars prove experience."
My turn. Eyes settled on me—some curious, some wary of my colorless suit.
"I'm average," I said, forcing a shrug. "A substitute for whatever you need." Truth was, I didn't know my strengths—or my limits—anymore.
Others spoke, but my mind drifted. Average was a lie—yet I didn't know the truth.
Mirror Shock
I slipped into the washroom, more to escape those staring eyes than anything. My right ear had stopped hurting, but I needed to see the damage.
Under harsh fluorescents I stared at my reflection—and froze.
No scar. No torn cartilage. The ear the robot's bullet had sliced open was perfect. My face—all the grime, bruises, the exhaustion—looked… renewed. As if I'd been handed a new body while I slept.
I poked the lobe. Warm. Real.
Hallucination, I told myself. Impossible. I scratched hard—too hard—until fresh blood smeared my fingertips and pain flared bright. The ear held firm.
Relief and absurdity tangled in my chest.
A knock at the door. Noah's sleepy monotone: "Need the bathroom, man."
I rinsed the blood and stepped out. Lucian's silver gaze met mine; he offered a cold stare and the faintest grin—as if he'd witnessed the entire scene through the wall.
Countdown
Back in the room, the timer read 30:00. The introductions had ended while I was gone. Groups were already forming—quiet alliances sealed with nervous nods.
I leaned against the wall and watched the numbers bleed away. Each second felt like a heartbeat.
I didn't know why my ear had healed, why the system called me Kael, or why my suit was empty of color.
But the next scenario was coming.
And with it—answers, or oblivion.
Countdown to Zero
What kinds of challenges are waiting for us? I wondered, staring at the dwindling timer. The doctor had mentioned thirty‑two sapient species left in these galaxies—humans plus thirty‑one aliens. Maybe there are alien recruits like us. If so, fighting them wouldn't be a surprise.
Worse, we might have to fight each other. If it's some cruel voting system, I'm doomed—no color equals no value. But if it's combat? I could hold my own. Rex or Marek might beat me, but I doubt the others can.
00:10… 00:05… 00:00
The timer went dark.
Hissing vents opened overhead, spewing a pale gas. Instinct screamed—poison. I bolted for the washroom, but the vapor filled that space too. No escape.
Panic rippled through the room. Noah snored on, still asleep. Liora's frail voice cracked, "Wh‑what's happening?"
I dropped flat, hoping the gas would be thinner near the floor, holding my breath until my lungs burned. Rex stood firm, fists clenched. Selene pressed her lips to Marek's, stealing his exhaled air—smart or desperate, I couldn't tell.
One by one, bodies collapsed: Lucian, Noah, Liora, Elisa… then Marek slumped, dragging Selene down with him. Rex swayed, cursed, and fell.
My vision tunneled. Black spots danced. I managed one last thought before the dark claimed me:
So this is the first test.
The Hexagon Arena
I wake groggy and cold on a flawless white floor. The space around me forms a vast hexagonal chamber, each wall a seamless panel of glowing light. In one corner stand the seven others and me, hemmed in by the same invisible barrier as before—only this time we can move within our slice of the hexagon.
Rex tests the limits first. He slams his fist into the invisible wall—once, twice, three times—barely a tremor. He hisses out a curse and shakes his bruised knuckles.
Lucian palms the barrier, studying it with that slight, knowing smirk. Marek mutters to Selene, probably about the oxygen theft she pulled back in the gas chamber. Elisa sits apart, as usual, knees tucked to her chest. Noah is still somehow asleep, his blue-lit suit rising and falling with steady snores.
That's when I notice we're not alone.
Five Alien Teams
Five other corners, five other squads—alien. Each group sealed behind its own transparent force wall. Unlike us, each alien team has exactly seven members, every one glowing with a mission color.
Left Corner – Verdant Ovals
Tall, green-skinned beings with elongated oval faces, pitch‑black eyes, narrow mouths, and ear slits on either side of their heads.
Right Corner – Jelly Minds
Semi‑transparent bodies. I can see a pulsing brain‑like organ under their chins and one enormous veined eye above it. A clear gelatin sheath ripples over them; Liora openly drools at the sight while I gag.
Third Corner – Mawlings
Hulking shapes of cracked yellow hide. No eyes, no nose—just a cavernous mouth stretching from jaw to brow.
Fourth Corner – Masked Ones
Humanoid silhouettes, but every face hidden behind ornate masks. Something about those masks feels ancient—and dangerous.
Opposite Corner – Shifters
White, gelatinous forms that quiver, then morph. Within minutes they sculpt their faces into near‑perfect human likenesses—exact replicas of our group… except me. Their eighth slot remains blank—as if awaiting a piece that doesn't exist.
A chill crawls up my spine.
The Doctor Returns
Ten silent minutes pass. Then six translucent screens descend from the ceiling, one facing each team. The doctor's childish grin flickers onto every display—blue specs, purple shirt, pristine white coat.
"W‑welcome aboard, Chosen Ones!" He claps like a game‑show host. "You've survived the preliminary filtration! Now the real fun begins."
His eyes sparkle behind the lenses.
And I realize: the timer, the gas, these rival teams—it was all just an introduction. The first true trial is about to start.