The afternoon sun’s rays stabbed Leon’s eyes when he exited from the trial hall’s main door. He raised his right hand and shielded himself.
The clean air washed over him, carrying the scent of damp grass and the distant, sweet-rotten perfu from the fruitful trees.
He closed his eyes and inhaled the air, but stopped and shifted his gaze upward—a sharp cry cut through the hum of the wind.
Against the vast, pale blue sky, a flock of white birds wheeled in a circle directly overhead.
For a mont, they seed to orbit the space above him, their wings catching the sun like flashes of silver.
Then, with one movent, they banked and arrowed upward, vanishing into a high, wispy cloud.
A strange hollow feeling thrumd in Leon’s chest, like being witnessed by sothing otherworldly.
His walk to the dormitories was like being driven by the wind.
Stopping by the center of the quad, whispers that had once been barbed with insults now held a questioning tone.
He kept his gaze forward, his expression extrely neutral. As he placed his steps one after another, he felt the weight of their attention like a physical pressure against his skin.
Stretching his hand forward, just an inch from the cream-colored building’s main door, he froze. A long shadow fell across him, blotting the sun.
A surge of instinctual anxiety tightened in his shoulders, causing him to turn swiftly.
The tension died slightly when he saw Mr. Lee standing behind him, his expression unreadable.
"Congratulations on winning your first fight," Mr. Lee said in a flat voice that seed to be devoid of any warmth.
’My first fight? What about the ones with Grace? And with Zoe?’ Leon’s mind scread with questions. Before he could say them, Mr. Lee continued.
"The first two engagents you were involved in were just tests."
’To test ?’ Icy liquid snaked down Leon’s spine. ’They made fight Zoe... for data?’ A hot spike of anger lanced through his maintained composure.
His jaw tightened, but he forced himself to breathe slowly, to keep the fury from reaching his eyes, and from making him say things he wasn’t ready to.
"You can go and rest for now," Mr. Lee said, as if dismissing a piece of equipnt.
"Tomorrow will be the last match for this phase. It will be conducted in groups."
’Last fight? Groups?’ Leon swallowed hard as the new information mixed with the confusion already taking root in him.
He gave a short nod, then smiled faintly.
Mr. Lee held his gaze for a second, then turned and walked away.
Leon watched him go until he dissolved into the lengthening shadows of the courtyard.
"Wow," he said with a tense smile, then turned and pushed the door open and stepped into the lobby.
Inside, the usual clusters of students lounging on benches or chattering near the stairwell fell silent as he moved two steps forward from the door he’d shut behind him.
They had intense, analytical expressions as they stared at him. They watched him cross the worn floor as if he were a puzzle they were trying to solve.
Leon ignored them and maintained the pace.
As he reached the front of the elevator, a mory of the ruined second-floor door slamd into the back of his mind.
"Damn, I’d forgotten it wasn’t working." A flicker of frustration crossed his face as he muttered under his breath.
He turned, preparing to climb up the stairs everyone had been using.
At that instant, a low chanical hum vibrated through the wall, causing him to pause, his right leg hovering slightly above the ground.
The silver elevator doors, which had been sealed, suddenly shimred with internal light.
With a soft ping, they slid open, revealing the empty, brightly lit car within.
’Has it been fixed already?’ A faint, weary smile touched Leon’s lips as he stared at it. ’Nice.’
The small convenience felt like a minor victory.
He stepped inside, the doors sighing shut behind him. He stared at the buttons for a while, then pressed the button for the second floor.
The tal ground beneath his boots shook a little as the car began its ascent. He leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes, letting the hum of the machinery fill his ears.
Then, without warning, the light inside the elevator flickered violently and died.
The gentle movent ceased with a jarring lurch, suspending him in utter blackness and silence.
Leon’s eyes snapped open. "What’s going on?" His hands fumbled in his pocket, pulling out the datapad.
Its screen flared to life, casting a sickly blue glow that illuminated his own hands and the closed walls.
He lifted the device, using its light to scan the small space. The light reflected off the polished doors, turning them into dark mirrors.
In the glassy surface, his own reflection stared back, pale, then shifted.
Other faces began to bleed into his reflection, superimposing themselves over his own.
The old woman from Dusthollow, her eyes like flint. The lizard-lady from the simulation, acidic tears tracing her scales.
A cold dread seized Leon when he saw their mouths move in unison.
He whipped his head to the left, to the right, but got the sa intense feeling.
He pressed his back against the rear wall of the car, the datapad’s light shaking heavily in his grip.
In the reflection, the images solidified. Then, a scaled, long-fingered arm seed to push out from the mirror, reaching into the space of the elevator toward him.
A choked sound escaped from Leon’s throat as he recoiled.
A chorus of voices bood with a force that vibrated in his teeth. It sounded like the old woman’s gravel and the lizard-lady’s plea, but twisted into a single deafening command:
"FIGHT THEM! FIGHT THEM ALL TO GET THE SECRET BEHIND THE CRASH!"
As the final word echoed, the faces in the reflection shattered like glass and dissolved into fragnts of light.
Simultaneously, the elevator’s lights flickered back on with a harsh, fluorescent buzz.
The machinery engaged with a soft jerk as the car resud its smooth ascent as if nothing had happened.
After five seconds, the doors slid open with another mundane ping.
Leon’s breath ca in ragged gasps, the light of the datapad still blazing uselessly in his hand while he stood frozen.
He stared into the hallway, the ominous command still ringing in his mind.
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