Luna heard the gunshots first—a distant crackling that echoed through the maze of corridors. Then the explosions, muffled but unmistakable. Then, finally, silence.

  She ran.

  "Luna, wait!" Mia's voice faded behind her almost immediately. The others couldn't keep pace—Steven's armor was too heavy, Sam's Agility too low, and the Adventurers were too frightened to push themselves. Luna didn't slow down. Whatever was happening ahead, she needed to reach it before it was too late.

  Only Roger managed to stay within earshot, his Rogue-enhanced agility letting him match her speed through the twisting corridors.

  The passage opened into a vast chamber—some kind of ancient throne room, with crumbling pillars and a raised dais at the far end. Two large entrances led into the space; Luna emerged from one, and based on the scuff marks in the dust, Derek and Marcus had come through the other.

  A pit dominated the center of the room—maybe forty feet across, its depths hidden in shadow. Criminals clustered near its edge, some still holding rifles, others clutching Molotov cocktails. Their attention was focused downward.

  Luna didn't hesitate.

  Her first arrow flew before she'd fully processed the scene. It took a criminal through the back of the skull—a man who'd been leaning over the pit's edge, shouting something she couldn't make out. He tumbled forward, disappearing into the darkness below.

  The others spun.

  Gunfire erupted toward her position—wild, panicked, poorly aimed. At forty feet, with shooters who'd never trained for combat against moving targets, the bullets went wide. Luna felt one impact against her Aether Shield, then another, but the hits were scattered, uncoordinated. Her barrier held easily.

  She kept shooting.

  Second arrow: through a man's throat as he tried to bring his rifle to bear. Third arrow: into the chest of a woman reaching for a grenade. Fourth arrow: taking a heavyset man through the eye as he screamed orders no one was listening to anymore.

  [Human (Bronze) - Level 1 defeated]

  [Human (Bronze) - Level 1 defeated]

  [Human (Bronze) - Level 1 defeated]

  [Human (Bronze) - Level 1 defeated]

  The notifications flickered in her peripheral vision. Luna barely registered them. Her focus had narrowed to the simple rhythm of combat: identify target, draw, release, repeat.

  Movement from the pit caught her attention. Derek—bloodied, burned, face twisted with fury—hauled himself over the edge with desperate strength. A criminal spotted him and opened fire, bullets sparking against Derek's Aether Shield. Another joined in, then a third.

  Derek didn't flinch. He didn't slow down. He charged directly into the gunfire, each impact making his barrier flicker but never breaking through. The criminals backpedaled, terror replacing confidence as they realized their weapons weren't stopping him.

  Four of them clustered together near the pit's edge, still firing, too panicked to scatter.

  Derek's battleaxe blazed with Mana.

  "WHIRLWIND ATTACK!"

  He spun, the massive weapon sweeping in a wide arc that seemed to extend beyond its physical reach. The Mana-enhanced blade carved through all four criminals in a single devastating rotation—bisecting one at the waist, opening another from hip to shoulder, taking the third across the throat, catching the fourth in the chest as he tried to dive away.

  Bodies fell. Blood painted the ancient stone in a wide spray pattern.

  Derek stood at the center of the carnage, chest heaving, axe dripping. His Aether Shield flickered weakly from the sustained gunfire, but it held.

  The remaining criminals broke.

  Less than ten of them left—Luna had lost count in the chaos. They fled toward the passage on their side of the throne room. Pure animal terror drove them now, the realization that they were no longer hunters but prey.

  Derek pursued.

  "COME BACK HERE!" His voice cracked with grief and rage as he killed one of the slower criminals. "FACE ME, YOU COWARDS!"

  Luna followed along the edge of the pit at a measured pace, loosing arrows at the fleeing figures. One caught a man in the back of the leg, sending him sprawling; Derek was on him a moment later, axe rising and falling with mechanical brutality. Another arrow took a man through the spine as he tried to squeeze through the entrance.

  [Human (Bronze) - Level 1 defeated]

  [Human (Bronze) - Level 1 defeated]

  Two more people lost their lives to Derek's axe as the rest disappeared in the darkness of the passage. Roger appeared beside Luna, keeping pace easily. "Three escaped into the corridor," he reported. "Should we pursue?"

  Luna glanced back at the pit. At the bottom, barely visible in the shadows, lay a gleaming form in scorched plate armor. Utterly still.

  "Derek." Luna's voice cut through his rage. "Stop."

  He stood over the body of his latest kill, chest heaving, axe dripping. For a moment, she thought he might turn on her instead.

  "They killed him," Derek said. His voice was hollow. "They killed Marcus."

  "I know."

  "I'm going to kill every last one of them."

  "Three escaped. We'll find them." Luna approached slowly, keeping her bow lowered but ready. "But first we need to regroup. The others are still catching up. Besides, you seem low on Mana."

  Something cracked behind Derek's eyes. The rage drained out of him, leaving only grief. He could barely stand anymore.

  "It's my fault," he said quietly as he sat on the ground. "I told him to come with me. I told him we could handle it."

  "Yes." Luna didn't soften the word. "You made a mistake. Marcus paid for it." She met his eyes.

  Then Derek laughed. A bitter, broken laugh as he lay on the ground, his Class Form flickering out of existence.

  Derek passed out.

  ***

  They tracked the survivors through the maze of corridors, following blood trails and panicked footprints in the dust. Roger scouted ahead while Luna and, surprisingly, Steven, followed, the others decided to stay in the throne room. In all honesty, Luna alone could've handled the three remaining criminals, but the backup could help if they had anything left in their sleeves like a nasty trap.

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  The trail led to a narrow passage that dead-ended at a solid wall. No new tricks, just three trapped criminals.

  Luna approached carefully, bow raised. Three figures huddled at the passage's end, their backs against unyielding stone. Two were aiming their rifles at her, their hands trembling. The third stood slightly apart, a lean man covered in tattoos, watching Luna's approach with an expression that seemed almost... amused.

  [Human (Bronze) - Level 1]

  [Human (Bronze) - Level 1]

  [Human (Bronze) - Level 1]

  Her Identify didn't distinguish between them. Just "Human." No names, no details, no context for the lives they'd led before ending up here. The lives that put them on this execution of a Trial.

  Nine of Luna's group remained. Three criminals. Twelve total.

  Two had to die, according to the System. But Luna begged to differ.

  "Please," one of the armed criminals gasped, rifle shaking so badly he could barely aim. "Please, we surrender. We'll do whatever you—"

  The tattooed man moved.

  It happened so sudden that Luna barely reacted. One moment he was standing passively against the wall. The next, his knife was buried in the armed man's throat.

  "Slasher, you piece of—" The second criminal tried to swing his rifle toward the tattooed man.

  Slasher—as his dying ally had called him—was faster. His blade opened the man's belly before he could finish the sentence. Blood sprayed across ancient stone as both bodies crumpled.

  Luna's arrow was already flying before the second body hit the ground.

  The shot was perfect—aimed directly at Slasher's heart, released without hesitation. Luna had made her decision the moment she saw him murder his own allies. A man like that couldn't be allowed to survive, regardless of what the System's objective said.

  The arrow struck something invisible three inches from Slasher's chest and shattered.

  Luna stared. A faint shimmer hung in the air around the tattooed man—not his Aether Shield, which he didn't have, but something else. Something external. A barrier that hadn't been there a moment ago.

  [SYSTEM NOTICE: Objective threshold reached. Remaining participants are protected until the Third Trial starts.]

  "Interesting," Slasher said, examining the space where her arrow had been deflected. He seemed genuinely surprised. "It seems the System wants me alive." He looked up at Luna with that predator's smile. "For now, at least."

  Luna nocked another arrow and released. Same result—the shaft shattered against the invisible barrier before it could reach him.

  "Luna." Roger's voice was quiet. "It's not working."

  "I can see that." She tried again, anyway. It was almost fun.

  Steven had his sword raised, clearly wanting to charge forward, but Luna held up a hand to stop him. If arrows couldn't penetrate the barrier, a sword strike wouldn't either.

  "I am Victor," the tattooed man said, wiping his blade clean on one of the corpses. "In old country, they called me Slasher. But Victor is fine for you." He spread his hands, knife still loosely gripped, utterly unconcerned by the weapons pointed at him. "You see? The System understands. Ten survivors. That is the rule. You cannot break the rule, even if you want to."

  "The Tutorial isn't over yet," Luna said flatly. "That barrier won't last forever."

  "Perhaps not. But it lasts long enough, yes?" Victor's smile didn't waver. "We are same now. Survivors. Travel companions. Also, murderers. Whether you like or not."

  Luna lowered her bow slowly. Not because she'd accepted the situation—but because wasting arrows on an invulnerable target was pointless.

  "When that barrier drops," she said quietly, "I won't miss."

  "I look forward to it." Victor actually seemed amused by the threat. "It's good to have worthy enemies. Keeps life interesting."

  The world lurched.

  The familiar sensation of displacement hit without warning—reality folding around her, space compressing and expanding simultaneously. Luna tried to raise her bow, tried to loose one final arrow in case the barrier had dropped—

  And then everything went white.

  ***

  [TRIAL 2 COMPLETE]

  The System message appeared before Luna's eyes adjusted to the new light.

  [Objective Completed: Reduce living participants to 10 (10/10)]

  [Casualties: 19 criminals, 1 Gifted]

  [Total Time: 49:23]

  [Group Grade: B]

  [Luna Castellan - 7 eliminations, 5 assists, no damage taken. Grade: A. Bonus experience awarded. 400 Sanctum Points awarded.]

  [Current Sanctum Points: 900]

  [Level Up! You are now Level 3]

  Luna blinked, orienting herself as a refreshing feeling of becoming stronger filled her from the level up. Then, she examined her surroundings: white marble walls, a domed ceiling glowing with soft, sourceless light, and ten wooden doors.

  And around her, nine other people.

  Mia rushed toward her immediately. "Lu! Are you okay? We heard fighting but by the time we got to the throne room it was over and Derek was unconscious and there were bodies everywhere and—"

  "I'm fine." Luna gently extracted herself from Mia's grip, scanning the chamber.

  Sam stood nearby, looking exhausted but unharmed. Margaret was already checking on Derek, who sat slumped against the wall—conscious now, but barely. His eyes were red-rimmed, his hands still stained with blood that wasn't his own. Clark and Emma huddled together near one of the marble pillars, relief evident on their faces.

  And across the chamber, watching them all with that same amused expression—

  Victor.

  "Hello again," he said cheerfully. "Seems we are stuck together for a while."

  Sam looked at him with an incredulous expression. "Luna, what is he—why is he still alive? Isn't he one of the criminals?"

  "The System protected him." Luna's voice was flat. "Once the objective was met, it wouldn't let me kill him."

  "That's insane! He's a murderer!"

  "Yes." Victor didn't deny it. "Many times over. The System brought me here because of it." He shrugged casually. "But now I am same as you. Participant. Gifted. The System doesn't care about past—only about who is useful going forward."

  "He killed his own allies," Roger reported quietly. "Cut their throats before Luna could even engage. That's how the objective was met—he finished our job."

  The group fell silent, processing this information. Mia's face had gone pale. Sam looked like he might be sick. Even Margaret's clinical composure showed cracks.

  Derek laughed—that same bitter, broken sound from before. "Perfect. Marcus dies protecting me from the scum, and now we have to work with one. The System has a real sense of humor."

  Victor's smile flickered slightly at that. "Your friend. The one in the pit. He fought well. Died protecting someone he cared about." He tilted his head. "Is not the worst way to go. I wonder if it's my Molotov that finished him off."

  Derek surged to his feet—or tried to. His legs gave out almost immediately, and Margaret had to catch him.

  "Easy," she said firmly. "You're running on fumes. Your Mana is completely depleted."

  "I don't care. I'm going to—"

  "Going to what?" Luna cut in. "Kill him? I already tried. The System won't allow it." She met Derek's eyes. "Marcus is dead. Victor is alive. Those are facts we can't change right now. What we can do is rest, recover, and prepare for whatever comes next. It was already night when the System pulled us here."

  Derek stared at her with something between defiance and grudging respect. Then the fight drained out of him, and he slumped back against the wall.

  "Twenty-four hours," he muttered. "That's what the System said, right? Twenty-four hours until Trial 3."

  "Yes."

  "Fine." Derek closed his eyes. "Wake me up when it's time to kill something that actually dies."

  [ATTENTION: The ten survivors of Trial 2 will proceed to Trial 3 after the rest period]

  [Rest Period: 24 hours]

  [You may take any of the free rooms and rest at ease, this place is completely safe]

  Luna looked around the chamber one final time. At her friends, exhausted and traumatized. At Victor, already settling into a corner with the casual ease of someone who'd survived far worse. At the empty space where, she imagined, Marcus should have been standing.

  Twenty-four hours, she thought. Enough time to sleep, talk, and process what had happened to us so far.

  She had a lot of thinking to do—and a murderer to watch. But first, she needed that sleep.

  Luna hoped the bed would be comfy enough.