The announcent for the final ga ca without warning.
All remaining twenty-eight chosen had already been gathered in the central lobby, standing beneath the bright white ceiling where earlier rounds of waiting had taken place. This ti, however, the atmosphere felt completely different. No one spoke loudly. No one moved carelessly. By now every survivor understood that simply reaching this stage did not an safety—it only ant the final part would likely be worse than everything before it.
The Capital had dressed them again.
Just as before, the clothing had clearly been chosen not for comfort but for presentation. Yet unlike the earlier decorative outfits, this ti there was less exaggeration and more uniformity. Tyler imdiately noticed that several groups had been given simplified battle-ready clothing in different colors depending on assignnt.
Tyler himself, along with Tansy and Rose, wore plain white outfits.
The material looked simple from a distance, but the fabric was fitted well enough for movent, neither loose nor restrictive. It made them look almost ceremonial rather than ard.
Other survivors wore darker shades, muted greens, greys, and blacks, though no one yet understood whether the color differences carried aning or were simply another part of the Capital’s spectacle.
The remaining chosen stood waiting.
No one needed to ask who they were waiting for.
The First Citizen never allowed a final stage to begin without making himself the center of attention first.
And as expected, the far wall opened.
The golden platform floated in again.
It arrived exactly as before—grand enough to make silence spread through the entire lobby before it even stopped moving.
Gold fire burned beneath the thrusters.
Golden ornants decorated every side.
And around the platform stood the sa painted won, their bodies covered entirely in tallic gold, posed like statues, furniture, and living decoration. So stood upright like carved pillars. So bent beneath trays of food and drink. Others remained motionless near the throne arrangent as though breathing itself had beco secondary to appearance.
At the center sat the King.
John Pmurt Dlanod looked no less absurdly grand than before—golden skin reflecting the lobby lights, fur-lined coat hanging loosely from one shoulder, crown resting lazily above perfectly arranged hair.
He did not stand.
He simply looked down at the remaining twenty-eight survivors.
His gaze moved slowly across them as if inspecting livestock that had lasted longer than expected.
Then he spoke.
"Hm..."
A pause followed.
"The last ga was a little boring."
Several participants lowered their eyes imdiately.
The King continued in the sa lazy tone.
"I hope I can see more entertaining things from here after."
That was all.
Then, after another pause, he added:
"Let the final ga begin."
No explanation.
No speech.
No philosophy this ti.
The platform turned imdiately and floated away, golden flas carrying him back through the opening before anyone had ti to process how casually he had reduced two gas of death to entertainnt.
The mont the platform vanished, another one arrived.
Smaller.
Gold again, but far simpler.
And upon it stood the silver woman.
The sa one Tyler and Tansy had recognized earlier from the old laboratory footage.
She hovered calmly before them and smiled as though greeting honored guests rather than exhausted survivors.
"Congratulations on reaching this far."
Her voice spread cleanly through the lobby.
"Now the rules of the final ga are very simple."
She lifted one hand.
"It is a battle."
Several participants stiffened imdiately.
But before anyone could ask further, she continued:
"First, divide yourselves into teams of seven."
That changed the room instantly.
Because twenty-eight survivors ant exactly four teams.
Movent began at once.
Naturally, Tyler moved first toward the obvious people.
Tansy.
Rose.
Neither hesitated.
The three ford together imdiately.
Then ca the real problem.
They needed four more.
Tyler approached the nearest available group.
Before he even finished speaking, rejection ca.
"It’s not that we don’t want to..."
The man hesitated, then looked openly at Tansy and Rose.
"How about this? Leave those two girls and join us."
Another added imdiately:
"They said battle. We’re fine with you, but not with them."
A third voice ca colder.
"If you already did whatever with those girls, then at least leave them behind now. Girls are so weak in battle."
The replies ca one after another.
Not subtle.
Not polite.
Tyler did not answer imdiately because the aning was obvious.
They were calculating survival.
And in their minds, two girls ant weakness.
Especially when battle had just been announced.
To be fair, the logic reflected the room’s reality.
Among all remaining survivors, only four girls had reached the final stage.
Tansy and Rose were two of them.
That alone made them targets of assumption.
Most n still preferred forming teams with fewer perceived burdens.
Tyler looked once toward Victor.
He had considered calling him.
But Victor had already moved.
And not toward them.
He had joined another forming team almost imdiately, barely glancing in Tyler’s direction before securing his own position.
Pure survival instinct. Tyler understood. He did not call him.
Eventually, as stronger groups closed themselves, Tyler’s team beca the place where the remaining unclaid survivors drifted by necessity rather than choice.
The first was familiar.
The old man from the first ga— the sa one Tyler had dragged through Door No. 1.
He looked older than ever now, but still alive.
Then ca three others:
Andrew.
Laddis.
Farma.
All three clearly arrived not because they wanted this team, but because no other full group remained.
Their expressions made that obvious.
Andrew looked practical and tired.
Laddis openly disliked the arrangent.
Farma said nothing, but his silence carried clear reluctance.
Still, they had no choice.
Seven complete.
The silver woman watched calmly until all four teams finished.
Then the next stage began.
Four giant pods rose before them.
Larger than previous transport capsules, tall enough to hold each team comfortably.
This ti, before boarding, Tyler imdiately noticed sothing different.
The sides were transparent.
They could see outside.
One by one, each team entered its assigned pod.
Doors sealed. The pods lifted almost imdiately. The pods rose and moved outside the building, then towards the edge.
As they moved, the old man near Tyler leaned closer to the glass and said quietly:
"We’re leaving the Capital."
The statent proved true seconds later.
For the first ti since arriving, Tyler saw the outer shell open from inside.
The pod passed through one of the angled tallic seams of the floating Capital and erged into open sky.
Even Tyler paused.
Because from this angle, the Capital truly looked monstrous—an enormous floating trapezoidal prism hanging above the world, tallic surfaces gleaming while artificial light pulsed beneath hidden systems.
Below stretched the vast flat land surrounding it.
Deserted open terrain.
A train station far beneath.
The pods flew steadily forward.
They crossed wilderness first— engineered forests, river systems, and maintenance zones hidden beneath the Capital’s shadow.
Then they passed above sector buildings.
For people below, the sight beca imdiate spectacle.
In one sector, many people stopped walking and pointed upward.
Children shouted.
Crowds ford near roads.
Because four giant pods now crossed the sky openly while cara drones followed them from every direction, broadcasting everything live to the entire nation.
The final ga had not rely begun.
It had now left the Capital itself, carrying the survivors toward sowhere none of them had expected.
The four giant pods continued flying steadily across the sky while the land below changed from dense sector structures into wider stretches of empty terrain. The farther they moved, the fewer buildings remained, until eventually even roads beca scarce.
Then the first signs appeared. A line in the far distance.
And the mont it beca clearer, the reactions inside the pods changed imdiately.
"Impossible..."
"Is that?"
One of the participants in another pod pressed both hands against the glass.
"We’re going to the borders?"
Another voice rose with disbelief.
"No way..."
Even inside Tyler’s pod, tension spread quickly.
The old man who stood near the front looked outside with visible unease.
"The borders," he said quietly, though everyone nearby heard him. "No one is allowed past them."
His eyes remained fixed on the distant structure growing larger.
"They say the empire built a defense system there. Anyone trying to leave gets obliterated before crossing."
That explanation only made the silence heavier.
Tyler moved closer to the transparent wall.
Tansy and Rose instinctively leaned beside him, their heads nearly touching as all three stared ahead together.
Behind them, Andrew, Laddis, Farma, and the old man also stood now, unable to sit any longer.
Because what waited ahead looked unreal even by Capital standards.
The boundary wall stretched across the horizon like sothing separating worlds.
A giant barrier made of countless honeycomb-like glass structures stacked endlessly upward, each hexagonal section glowing faintly as if power flowed through every layer. The wall rose so high that its upper edge nearly vanished into the sky, forming a colossal translucent fortress dividing Libria from whatever lay beyond.
These were the Boundaries.
The final edge of the Kingdom of Libria.
Every child in the sectors grew up hearing about them.
No one crossed.
No one returned from outside.
Because beyond the barrier, according to everything they had ever been taught, lay a dead world.
Then the silver woman appeared again.
A projection unfolded inside every pod, her silver figure floating calmly before the survivors.
"You have probably guessed already," she said with the sa composed smile.
"The final ga..."
She paused just enough for the tension to settle.
"...will take place at the borders."
User Comments
0 comments from readers