I'm already moving when it starts.
There's no countdown. No signal I catch. Just the sound of feet hitting the ground all at once and the space in front of me opening because everyone's pushing forward at the same time.
For a second, the surface under me is still smooth.
White. Flat. Easy.
Then it changes.
Not slowly—just wrong all at once.
The step I take next doesn't land the same. The ground roughens under my foot mid-stride, like something underneath it shifted. Thin cracks run across the surface, and by the time my weight settles, it's not white anymore.
Stone.
Uneven.
Edges where there weren't any a second ago.
"…yeah, okay," I mutter under my breath.
Jaki's already ahead, slipping between two people who slowed when the ground changed.
"Don't overstep it," he says, not even looking back. "It's not flat anymore."
I push forward.
Someone cuts across in front of me, trying to get ahead before things get worse. I angle slightly to avoid running into him, but another person comes in from the side at the same time.
Their Shoulder hits mine.
Not hard—but enough.
My foot lands wider than I want, and I feel the surface tilt under it. I shift my weight forward before it throws me off, take another step, and keep moving.
No stopping here.
The ground ahead isn't clean anymore. It's layered, like broken pieces stacked unevenly on top of each other. Some parts sit higher, some dip lower, and none of it feels like it's staying in place.
People are still moving like it is.
A guy a few steps ahead plants his foot like he expects it to hold steady. It doesn't. The edge shifts under him just enough that his balance goes with it. He tries to correct into his next step, but now he's moving faster than he meant to.
He commits anyway, the result.
Not good.
"Feel that?" I say as I close the gap between me and Jaki slightly.
He lifts his hand briefly while moving.
There's a flicker.
Small.
Then nothing.
"…yeah," he says. "They locked it."
I try it.
It's automatic. The pull is there immediately—Dark Matter gathering like it always does, moving toward my limbs—
Then it cuts.
Just gone.
Like something shut it off before it even reached the surface.
"Alright," I say. "So no shortcuts."
Jaki steps onto a slightly raised section and uses the height to carry himself forward into the next gap.
"Good," he says. "Makes it harder."
I almost laughed at that.
"Harder," I repeat. "Yeah. Sure."
The space around us shifts again.
Not the ground itself—people.
They're spreading out now, breaking away from the initial rush. Instead of one direction, it's turning into ten. Everyone is trying to find their own way forward.
That makes it worse.
Now I can't just follow movement.
Someone behind me tries to squeeze through a gap between me and another guy. He misjudges the space, clips the edge of the uneven ground, and stumbles into the person in front of him.
They both try to recover at the same time.
It doesn't work.
I move past them before they figure it out.
"Don't get stuck behind people," Jaki says, glancing back this time. "If they slow, you're done."
"Obviously." I respond with slight annoyance.
He shifts direction slightly, not straight ahead—angled.
I follow his line for a second, then look past him.
The terrain ahead isn't forming clean paths. It's more like broken layers rising in different directions. Some look easy, but they're not moving. Others are uneven but drifting inward.
I slow just enough to read it.
"Straight looks dead," I say.
"Yeah," Jaki answers. "It stalls."
"Left drops."
"Ignore it."
"Right's messy."
"That's the point."
I angle right.
The surface shifts under my step as I change direction, but I move with it instead of trying to correct back.
Someone else goes for the same line at the same time, coming in faster than they should. They try to cut in front of me—
I don't give them the space.
I step forward first.
They adjust late.
Their footing's off before they even realize it.
I keep going.
A girl moves across my view from the side—short messy blonde hair trailing behind her as she lands lightly on a narrow section. She doesn't slow. Just touches down and keeps moving like the ground isn't doing anything strange at all.
Jaki notices her too.
"…she's reading it," he says.
"Yeah." I watch her for a second longer.
She's not taking the obvious steps.
She's taking the ones that move.
I adjust.
"Alright," I say. "So don't chase distance—chase movement."
The terrain ahead shifts again, the layers separating slightly as people spread out more. It's less crowded now, but that doesn't make it easier..
The ground under me dips slightly, then rises again.
I step through it instead of bracing against it.
"Feels like it's reacting to weight," I say.
Jaki shakes his head slightly.
"No. Look ahead."
I look.
The platforms aren't reacting to people.
They're already moving.
Some just don't look like it until you're on them.
"…alright," I say. "So it's timing."
"Yeah. And picking the ones that don't trap you."
I nod once.
The space opens a little more in front of us.
Less people.
More room to move.
But also fewer obvious routes.
I take another step forward, adjusting my stride without thinking about it now.
Shorter.
More controlled.
"Don't rush the clean ones," Jaki adds. "If it looks easy, it's probably not going anywhere."
"Figures."
I look ahead again.
The space in front of us stretches out a little more, and that's when it gets worse.
Not because it's harder to move—but because now everyone's choosing their own way.
People start cutting across instead of following one direction. Someone comes in from my right at an angle I don't expect, trying to slip through a gap that isn't really there. I have to shorten my step mid-stride to avoid running straight into him.
"Watch your side," Jaki says.
"I see it."
Another guy tries to push past from behind, faster than he should be moving. He reaches out like he's about to grab onto someone ahead just to pull himself forward.
I shift slightly before he gets there, and he ends up catching nothing but air. His next step lands wrong because of it—too far forward, too off-balance—and he has to slow down just to keep himself upright.
That's enough.
Two people pass him immediately.
"Everyone's forcing it," I say.
"Yeah," Jaki answers. "They think speed matters more than position."
"It doesn't?"
"It does later," he says. "Right now it just gets you stuck."
That… makes sense.
The terrain ahead splits again, but this time it's not obvious at first glance. It's just layers of stone rising at different heights, some angled, some flat, none of them really matching.
I don't rush into it.
Someone ahead does.
He takes a straight line, stepping across a series of flat-looking sections like he found easy.
It works—for a second.
Then it stops.
The ground under him doesn't shift anymore. The pieces ahead don't line up. He tries to move sideways, but now he's boxed in by sections that don't connect the way he thought they did.
"Dead route," Jaki says. "Don't touch it."
"I wasn't planning on it."
Jaki steps onto a narrow edge and waits—just for a fraction of a second.
The piece ahead of him shifts slightly, lining up with another.
Then he moves.
"Everything cycles," he says. "You just don't see it until you slow down enough."
I follow that.
Not exactly copying him—but watching the timing.
The next section in front of me dips, then rises back into place.
" …alright." I step onto it right as it settles.
That feels better.
The movement's still there—but it's not random.
The crowd's thinning now. The people still near us aren't just pushing anymore.
They're paying more attention.
I step onto a slightly raised section, feel it tilt under my weight, and adjust without breaking stride.
Someone to my left tries to cut across my path at the same time.
I shift just enough to avoid clipping into him—but I don't give him the line either.
He tries to force it anyway.
His foot hits too close to the edge.
He pulls back to recover instead of committing forward.
I continue on ahead.
The terrain ahead opens again—but this time it's different.
Less flat.
More broken.
Some pieces look like they used to be connected—like part of a structure that collapsed and got scattered across the field.
The angles are worse now.
The spacing tighter.
"Alright," I say. "This is getting annoying."
without warning.
Not a shift. Not a tilt.
It just drops.
The piece Jaki and I are on splits straight down the middle with a sharp crack, the surface pulling apart so fast I don't even get a full step in before there's nothing under my foot anymore.
"—watch it!"
Too late.
I drop.
Not far enough to panic, but far enough that I have to twist mid-air to land right. I hit something uneven—harder than before—and my footing slides for half a second before I catch myself.
The texture's wrong again.
Not stone.
Not flat.
Something rough, but not solid the same way.
I push off immediately, putting distance between me and where I landed before I even look up.
The space above me is different.
Everything is.
"…what?"
The terrain's changed.
Not gradually.
Completely.
What was broken stone and layered platforms is gone, replaced by something taller, denser—vertical instead of spread out. Massive trunks rise around me, thick and uneven, their surfaces covered in ridges and roots that twist around them like they grew wrong.
Branches stretch outward at different heights, some wide enough to land on clean, others thin and bending slightly under movement.
A forest.
Or something like one.
"Jaki?" I call out, glancing back.
Nothing.
No movement where I dropped from. No sign of him above either.
"…yeah, alright."
Not stopping.
I step forward onto a raised root that curves upward into the base of a trunk and use it to climb instead of jumping immediately. The surface isn't smooth—my footing catches slightly on the ridges, giving me something to push off from.
Better.
I grab onto a higher section and pull myself up, then step onto a branch that dips slightly under my weight. It bends just enough that I feel it.
Not unstable.
Just not solid.
I adjust my stance and move forward before it settles too much.
The spacing here isn't like before.
It's vertical now.
Not just forward movement—up.
Branches above, below, angled in different directions. Some connect, some don't. Some look like they should hold and others—
I don't test those.
I look ahead instead.
The path isn't obvious anymore.
It's layered.
You can go forward.
Or up.
Or both—if you pick it right.
"Alright…" I say under my breath. "So it's climbing now."
I push off the branch and catch onto a higher one, pulling myself up before my momentum dies out. My grip holds, but the bark shifts slightly under my fingers, rough enough to scrape but not enough to slip.
I swing a leg over and get my footing.
Then move.
Someone drops onto a branch a few feet away from me, coming from above instead of below. They land fast, too fast, and the branch bends sharply under their weight.
They freeze for a second, trying to stabilize.
Bad move.
The branch dips further, throwing off their angle.
They try to recover into the next jump, but now they're pushing from something that isn't level.
They don't get the height they need.
I don't stay on it.
I'm already moving up.
The tree in front of me splits into two main trunks, both climbing higher but in different directions. One angles outward, spreading into thinner branches. The other goes straight up, thicker, with more roots wrapping around it like steps.
"…straight's probably better," I mutter.
I go for it.
I step onto a root, then another, using them like uneven stairs to gain height without jumping too far. The movement's different here—less distance, more control.
Someone tries to pass me from the side, cutting in across the trunk to take a higher branch.
I don't give them space.
I shift up first, taking the step they were aiming for.
They adjust late, forced onto a thinner branch that bends under them more than they expected.
They hesitate.
That's enough.
I keep climbing.
The higher I go, the more I can see.
Other people are moving through the trees, some already way above me, chaining movements between branches like they've been doing this the whole time.
"…yeah, okay," I say. "So they figured this out already."
I grab onto another root and pull myself up, then push off toward a branch that angles slightly inward.
It bends when I land.
Not much—but enough that I don't stay there long.
I step through it immediately and use the recoil to push into the next movement, catching onto a higher branch and pulling myself up again.
That works.
Better than trying to stay still.
I keep moving.
The canopy above is thicker now.
More branches.
I pause just long enough to look ahead.
Some branches go outward—wider, easier landings, but they don't climb much.
Others are thinner, tighter, but lead higher faster.
"…don't take the easy ones," I mutter. "Same as before."
I go up.
I jump toward a thinner branch, grab onto it instead of landing fully, and pull myself up before it bends too far under my weight.
My arms take more of it this time.
That's fine.
I swing up, plant my foot, and keep moving.
The environment's completely different now.
"Alright… just don't stop," I say under my breath.
**
I pull myself higher, hands catching rough bark before my footing settles again. The branch under me bends slightly, then steadies. I don't stay on it long—just enough to shift my weight and move again.
Up here it's tighter.
Not crowded—just less forgiving.
Branches don't line up clean. Some angle upward, some split off in directions that look good for a second and then go nowhere useful. You can't just go forward anymore. You have to pick where "forward" even is.
"…alright," I mutter, scanning ahead. "So up and in."
I move.
One hand catches a higher branch, I pull myself over, step across a thinner one that dips under me, then push off into the next trunk. My foot hits rough bark, slides half an inch, then grips.
Better.
Someone above me is already moving faster—clean transitions, no hesitation. They barely stay on anything long enough for it to bend.
"…yeah, okay."
I climb again.
The trunk splits into multiple limbs higher up, each one leading somewhere slightly different. One curves outward—wider, easier footing. Another cuts inward, thinner, higher.
I go inward.
I grab onto the thinner branch and pull myself up before it dips too far. It flexes under my weight, but I don't wait for it to settle. I step through it and keep going.
The movement's starting to feel smoother.
Still thinking—but not as much.
Just—
see it, take it, move.
I shift onto another branch—
And something slams into my side.
Hard.
The impact hits fast enough that I don't even see it coming. My balance snaps sideways, my footing slipping off the branch as my body twists with the force.
"…shit—"
I catch nothing but air for a second.
My hand shoots out and grabs the edge of the branch just as I slip off it, my body hanging for a split second before the rest of me drops lower.
The branch bends sharply under the sudden weight.
My grip almost gives.
"…Motherfuc—"
I tighten my hold, pull myself up before it dips further, and swing a leg back over. My foot finds the bark again, unstable for half a second before I force it steady.
I push myself upright.
Breathing heavier now.
"…what was—"
I look up.
There's someone already moving away from me.
Shorter frame.
Red hair.
He doesn't even look back.
He's already gone, clearing distance across the branches like the terrain isn't even slowing him down. He moves clean—quick shifts, sharp changes in direction, barely staying on anything longer than he needs to.
"…seriously?"
I watched him for half a second longer.
Not chasing his path—just seeing how he moves.
Then I hear it.
Not out loud.
Not around me.
In my head.
Clear.
Direct.
"Seventy participants have passed. Four hundred have failed."
I stop for half a second.
"…what?"
The number hits before anything else does.
Seventy?
Already?
I look ahead instinctively, like I'll see them—but of course I won't. The ones who finished are gone.
Four hundred failed.
I exhale through my nose.
"…yeah, okay."
That's faster than I thought.
Way faster.
I shake it off.
No point thinking about it.
If people are already finishing, that just means I'm behind.
I shift my stance and look ahead again.
The branches don't feel the same anymore.
Or maybe I just don't have time to treat them the same.
The surface under my foot hits solid—
then shifts again.
Not like before.
It's heavier this time. Rougher. My step lands on something that doesn't bend or dip—it grinds slightly under my weight, loose pieces shifting against each other.
I glance down just enough to catch it.
Stone.
Broken stone.
But not the same as earlier.
I'm not on a branch anymore. Not on roots either. The piece I landed on looks like part of a roof, cracked down the middle, one side slightly lower than the other like it collapsed and just stayed that way.
"…you've gotta be kidding me."
I don't slow.
I step forward, and the environment around me finishes changing as I move through it. The trees aren't there anymore—what's left is something else entirely.
Ruins.
Walls cut in half, sections of buildings scattered across different heights, chunks of stone stacked unevenly like something tore through an entire area and left it broken.
A doorway stands ahead with no building attached to it.
I pass through it without thinking.
The ground shifts under my next step—not the platform itself, but the debris on top of it. Smaller pieces slide slightly if I don't place my foot right.
"…okay, so now it's this."
I adjust immediately, my stride tightening just a bit so I don't lose footing.
Then I pick it back up.
Faster.
Someone ahead tries to run straight across a pile of rubble like it's solid ground. It isn't. The moment they commit their weight, it gives just enough that their next step comes out wrong.
They try to fix it mid-run.
That hesitation's enough.
I pass them without even really thinking about it.
The terrain's messy—but it's not random.
Not anymore.
I'm starting to see it.
The way pieces connect.
The way some paths actually lead somewhere while others just… don't.
"…alright."
A broken wall angles upward in front of me, and instead of jumping, I run up it, using the incline to carry my movement higher. My foot hits near the edge, but I adjust without losing speed, pushing off before it can throw me off balance.
From there—
I clear the gap ahead.
Bigger than the last few.
I don't hesitate.
I land on a cracked floor panel that dips slightly under me, but I'm already stepping off it before it settles.
That felt cleaner.
Way cleaner.
The rubble ahead forms tighter paths now—narrow openings between collapsed structures, pieces stacked in ways that force you to move a certain way whether you want to or not.
A half-standing wall cuts across my path—I step onto a jutting piece of stone, push myself up, then drop off the other side into a lower section without slowing.
Someone behind me tries to follow the same movement but pauses at the top.
That's all it takes.
I'm already gone.
"…too slow," I mutter, not even sure if I'm talking about them or what I was doing before.
My pace picks up.
The movements start connecting better.
I step across a broken beam, push off into a higher ledge, and immediately carry that into the next movement without resetting.
No pause.
No hesitation.
I land on uneven stone, feel it shift slightly, and instead of correcting after it happens, I push off as it moves, letting it carry me forward into the next step.
"…yeah, okay."
That works.
That actually works.
I can see it clearer now.
Not everything—but enough.
Where things line up.
Where they don't.
What's worth taking.
What's not.
I hit a tilted slab and run across it, my steps faster now, more confident. I don't second-guess the distance this time—I commit, pushing off into a wider gap without slowing.
For a second, there's just air—
Then I land clean, sliding half a step before catching myself and moving again.
My heart's pounding now.
Loud.
Fast.
But it doesn't feel bad.
If anything, it feels—
good.
"…okay, yeah."
I move again, cutting through a narrow gap between two broken walls, my shoulder brushing against stone as I pass through. I step up onto a raised section, use the height to carry into the next movement, then immediately drop into another space without losing speed.
Everything's moving faster now.
Or maybe I am.
I can't really tell.
I hit another wall, plant my foot against it, and push upward, grabbing onto the edge of a higher section and pulling myself over in one motion.
"…yeah."
A grin pulls at my face before I even realize it.
This feels different now.
Before, I was thinking too much. Watching everything, trying to make sure I didn't mess up.
Now—
I see it.
I clear another gap, land, and immediately push forward again. A piece of debris shifts under me, and instead of adjusting after it slips, I use it—letting it roll just enough to carry my momentum into the next step.
That shouldn't work.
But it does.
"…alright, alright!"
I can feel it now.
Everything lining up just enough that I'm not guessing anymore.
Not fully—but close.
Close enough.
I run up another angled surface, push off the edge, and clear another section without breaking stride.
My chest feels tight from how fast my heart's going, but I don't slow down.
"…yeah, this is way better!"
I land, step through, and keep going, the movement flowing into itself now instead of breaking apart every few seconds.
I don't even notice the smile until it's already there.
"Alright," I mutter, pushing forward again. "Now this actually feels good."
I keep moving.
At some point I stop thinking about every single step.
Not completely—but enough that it's not slowing me down anymore. My body's just… doing it now. Reading the terrain as I go, adjusting without needing to pause on it.
I clear a broken ledge, land on a slanted piece of stone, and push off before it even finishes shifting under me. The next section lines up just enough—I take it, carry through, and keep going.
I don't hesitate on the next gap. Or the one after that. My steps are quicker, sharper, everything connecting instead of breaking apart every few seconds like before.
Someone ahead tries to cut across my path, but they're slower. I don't even need to force anything—I just pass them before they can get in the way.
The rubble gets tighter.
Closer together.
More vertical.
I run up a collapsed wall, push off near the top, and grab onto a higher section, pulling myself up without stopping. My foot hits the surface and I'm already moving again, crossing a narrow piece that dips under me and using the movement to carry forward instead of fighting it.
It's working.
Everything's working.
A laugh slips out of me mid-step before I even realize it.
Not loud.
Just—
there.
My chest feels tight, breath coming faster, sweat starting to bead along my forehead, but I don't slow down.
If anything—
I push harder.
I hit a broken beam, sprint across it without checking, and launch myself into the next section. My foot lands clean, slides half a step, then catches as I shift my weight forward and keep going.
"…this is actually—"
I don't even finish the thought.
I can see it now.
The final platform.
Not far.
Still above—but close enough that I can track it clearly through the shifting terrain.
"…there it is."
My pace picks up again without me thinking about it.
I cut through a narrow opening, step up onto a raised slab, and push forward into a longer gap. I don't check it. I don't need to.
I clear it.
Land.
Keep going.
The platforms ahead start breaking apart.
Not subtle this time.
Pieces shifting out of place, edges crumbling, sections dropping just as people try to move across them.
"…yeah, of course."
I hit the next surface just as part of it splits under me. My footing slips slightly, but I adjust instantly, pushing off before it fully gives way.
I step onto a fragment of stone that's already breaking apart, feel it shift under my weight—
I push off hard, launching myself toward the next piece just as the one behind me drops.
I land—
barely.
My foot catches the edge, and I have to throw my weight forward to keep from slipping off completely.
"…too close."
The next section is already going.
I move again.
The final stretch.
Everything ahead is unstable now. Pieces breaking, shifting, collapsing out of sequence.
I run across a narrow path, jump onto a higher piece that cracks under me, and immediately push off again before it fully breaks apart.
The final platform's right there.
Close.
Close enough.
"…yeah, I got it."
I push forward one last time.
The section in front of me starts to crumble just as I step onto it. The ground gives under my foot, breaking apart faster than I expected—
I jump.
I stretch forward, arm reaching out toward the edge of the final platform—
My fingers brush it—
Not enough.
"…shit."
I miss.
My body drops.
The platform slips past my reach as I fall, the space below opening up fast—
Then something catches my wrist.
Hard.
I jerk to a stop.
My arm strains from the sudden force, and for a second I just hang there, the drop below still pulling at me.
"…what—"
I look up.
A girl's leaning over the edge, gripping my wrist tight enough that I feel it.
Long brown hair.
Blue eyes locked on mine.
"…you good?" she says, breath slightly uneven.
"Yeah—yeah, I got it."
"Then move."
She pulls.
I push off the wall below just enough to help, grabbing onto the edge with my other hand and pulling myself up onto the platform.
My chest rises and falls harder now as I get my footing.
"…you didn't have to—"
"You owe me," she cuts in, already turning away.
"…right."
She exhales once, steadying herself for half a second.
She moves forward without hesitation, crossing the final stretch in seconds before stepping into the light ahead of the platform.
And just like that—she disappears.
I stand there for half a second longer, catching my breath.
Then I step forward.
And cross.
**
The light hits—and everything drops out.
No ground. No sound. No movement.
Then—
I'm breathing.
Slow.
Heavy.
"…what—"
My eyes open halfway, and the first thing I see is a ceiling.
Not sky.
Not the arena.
A ceiling.
Stone, smooth, carved in a way that doesn't look like anything from the trial. There's faint detail running across it—lines, patterns, something decorative—but my head's still catching up.
I blink a few times.
"…where…"
I push myself up slightly, and that's when I feel it.
A bed.
I'm laying in an actual bed.
Not stone. Not rubble. Not some uneven surface trying to throw me off every second.
Just—
a bed.
I sit up more, slower this time, my body finally catching up to everything that just happened. My arms feel a little heavy, my legs too, like everything's still expecting to move even though I'm not.
I run a hand through my hair, exhaling once.
"…how long was that…"
No answer.
I look around.
The room's big.
Not massive—but definitely bigger than it needs to be. Rows of beds stretch across it, spaced out evenly, each one holding someone around my age.
Some are sitting up like I am.
Some are still laying down.
A few are just now waking up, looking around the same way I probably did.
"…you know what's going on?" someone asks from a few beds over.
I glance over.
A guy, about my age, leaning forward slightly, still trying to shake it off.
"…no," I answer. "You?"
He shakes his head.
"Last thing I remember, I finished the trial and then… nothing."
"Yeah," another voice cuts in from somewhere behind me. "Same here."
I nod slightly.
So it's not just me.
I swing my legs off the bed and stand up. My balance is fine—no dizziness, no weird lag like I expected.
Just…
normal.
I take a few steps forward, scanning the room more carefully now. No guards. No instructors. Just us.
Beds.
People.
Silence.
"…this is everyone?" someone else asks.
"No way," another responds. "There were way more than this."
"Yeah, no kidding."
I don't stay in it.
Standing around guessing isn't gonna get me anything.
I head for the door.
No one stops me. A few people glance over, but no one says anything.
The door opens easily.
And the moment I step out—
"…oh."
It's bigger than I expected.
Way bigger.
The hallway stretches out in both directions, wide enough that it doesn't even feel like a hallway. High ceilings, polished stone floors, walls lined with carved details that actually look intentional—not broken, not ruined.
Clean.
Organized.
The opposite of the trial.
"…this place is…" I trail off.
It feels—
official.
Like something important actually happens here.
I step out fully and look around, taking it in. There are other doors along the walls, probably more rooms like the one I just came out of. A few people are already out here too, walking around, looking just as confused.
"…you know where we're at?" someone asks me as I pass.
I shake my head.
"Just woke up."
They don't have anything else either.
Figures.
I start moving.
No real direction—just forward, seeing where it goes.
The hallway opens into a larger area after a bit, something closer to a central space. Open floor, higher ceilings, more detail in the walls and pillars. It almost feels like part of a castle or something—like this is meant for people to actually be here, not just pass through.
"…this doesn't look like a trial area," I mutter.
Definitely not.
I keep walking, taking turns when something looks like it leads somewhere different. Stairs here. Another open section there. Everything's clean, structured, put together in a way that feels… controlled.
"…alright, so where is everyone…"
I turn another corner—
And spot him immediately.
Jaki's sitting up on a ledge that overlooks part of the building, one leg hanging off, the other bent slightly. He's just there, relaxed, like he's been waiting.
"…of course you're fine," I say as I walk over.
He glances at me, then lets out a small breath through his nose.
"Took you long enough."
I stop a few feet away.
"…long enough?"
He nods slightly.
"Yeah."
"For what?"
Jaki looks back out over the space for a second, then back at me.
"You've been out for three days."
"…what?"
I stare at him for a second.
"Three days?"
"Yeah."
"…you're lying."
He shrugs.
"Wish I was."
I let that sit for a second.
"…three days."
"That's what I said."
I exhale slowly, running a hand over the back of my neck.
"…alright. That's—okay."
Didn't feel like three days.
Didn't feel like anything, actually.
"Everyone who passed ended up here," Jaki continues, nodding slightly toward the space around us. "They've been waking up at different times."
"…so this is…?"
"Where they're holding us," he says. "For now, at least."
I glance around again.
"…this whole place?"
"Yeah."
"…how many made it?"
Jaki leans back slightly, resting one hand behind him.
"Three fifty."
"…three hundred and fifty?"
"Out of a thousand."
I let out a quiet breath.
"…that's—"
"Lower than you thought?" he cuts in.
"…yeah."
"Same."
I look out over the space again.
Three hundred and fifty.
That's it.
"…what about the next trial?" I ask.
Jaki shrugs.
"No one knows yet."
"…seriously?"
"Yeah. They haven't said anything."
I frown slightly.
"So we're just… waiting?"
"Looks like it."
"…that's annoying."
Jaki lets out a quiet laugh.
"Yeah, well. Get used to it."
I lean slightly against the wall near him, still looking out across the building.
"…you finished early," I say.
"Yeah."
"What, like… top hundred?"
"Something like that."
"…figures."
He glances at me again.
"You made it."
"…barely."
"That's all that matters."
I don't answer that.
Instead, my eyes drift across the space again— and stop.
"…wait."
Jaki notices the shift immediately.
"What?"
I don't answer right away.
Because I see her.
Across the room, near another section of the building.
Long brown hair.
Blue eyes.
Same as before.
She's standing with a couple other people, not really talking, just… there.
"…that's her," I say.
"Who?"
"The one who pulled me up at the end."
Jaki looks in that direction.
"…oh."
I straighten up slightly.
"…yeah, I—"
I pause for half a second, then shake my head.
"…I'll be back."
Jaki just shrugs.
"Go for it."
I push off the wall and start moving, heading toward her before I can overthink it.