Arven steps out of the Reclamation Hall, the door closing smoothly behind him. The quiet, orderly streets of the town stretch ahead.
Gurdat Town stretches out in front of him, structured like a normal settlement at a glance, yet carrying an artificial stillness that never quite disappears. Narrow streets branch out between rows of buildings, where small cafés, weapon shops, clothing stores, supply vendors, and jewelry stalls line the pathways in neat order.
Behind the counters, simulated residents move with steady patterns, their presence functional rather than alive.
The town itself is not large. High walls enclose the entire area. Above it, the sky appears open, yet Arven knows better. A barrier seals everything in, invisible but absolute.
He walks without hesitation, following a path he remembers too well, until the northern edge of the town opens into a wide square.
At its center stands a massive circular structure, a portal ring embedded into the ground, its surface currently dormant, faint lines of energy pulsing across it in slow intervals.
Arven glances at it briefly, then turns toward a small, cluttered shop nearby.
"Long time no see, Domiar."
The man behind the counter looks up, his expression shifting into mild surprise.
"Ooh, isn't it Arven. How long has it been? Six years? Seven years? I thought you'd already died somewhere."
Arven lets out a quiet breath. "Yeah, I died at the Sixth Trial Realm. And that fucking Rytir dragged me back to this shitty town."
Domiar tilts his head slightly. "He brought you back? That's strange."
"What, you don't know anything about it?"
"Nope." He shrugs. "He created me to do limited tasks with limited knowledge. But as far as I know, if you die outside the first trial realm, that should be the end of it. But he brought you back anyway."
"I bet he just enjoys playing with my life," Arven mutters.
A brief silence lingers before Arven shifts the topic.
"When was the last time the gate activated?"
"Twenty-nine days ago."
"So there's only one day left."
Domiar nods. "One day. If no one clears the trial, everyone gets pulled back here tomorrow."
Arven exhales slowly, then walks away. "Thanks for the info. Nice seeing you again, Domiar."
"You too," Domiar replies. "Try not to cause too much trouble this time."
Arven raises one hand in a casual gesture without looking back. For a moment, he stands still, his gaze drifting toward the inactive portal in the center of the square.
"Trouble…" he mutters under his breath, almost in a nostalgic tone.
He used to chase it without thinking, stirring conflict simply because he could. Back then, it was the only thing that made this place feel less suffocating. Now, after everything he has gone through, all that matters is getting out and reclaim his freedom.
"Guess I'll head back to the pod," he mutters under his breath. "Might as well rest until the gate activates."
***
The next day, while Arven still naps in his sleeping pod, the northern portal suddenly activates. A shimmering light spreads across the square, and the inmates who had taken the trial out there are pulled back to this Gurdat Town.
There are now 57 inmates in the town, but only 24 appear inside the portal circle this time. Some had died previously and respawned back in the Reclamation Hall, while a few others had simply chosen to never attempt the trial, content to live out their days in the quiet of this small town.
A few of the newly returned inmates exchange glances and murmurs as they leave the portal circle.
"Look at over there… Veloldas' group. Five of them sticking together again. No one dies."
"Yeah… clean gear, sharp swords. All of them are above level 15 already."
"I heard they love hunting rare monsters to grind. They are quite greedy."
"Good. More enemies making mistakes, more opportunities for the rest of us."
"Careful, though… if they notice you shadowing them, they won't hesitate."
Suddenly, someone shoves him from behind.
"Move!"
"What the…" the man turns to the side, and the moment he sees who it is, his face goes pale. "Ah… sorry…"
Even his two companions, along with four others from a nearby party, step aside immediately, clearing a path not just for the man but also for the four people following him.
It's Deniro and his group, the second-highest average-level party in Gurdat Town. Still behind Veloldas' team, but feared for their ruthlessness.
At the very back walks the Loser No. 316 a.k.a. Victor, level 8, the lowest in the group yet the biggest troublemaker. He kills other inmates for amusement, even level 1s who offer nothing.
Victor carries a sack filled with loot collected. The others glare at him, remembering the friends he has slaughtered.
"What are you looking at?" Victor snaps arrogantly as he passes.
No one dares reply. Even a level 12 inmate nearby stays quiet. Crossing Victor means crossing all of Deniro's group.
"Get out of my way," Victor barks, spitting casually on the ground. "Pathetic weaklings…"
Deniro looks back, his eyes narrowing. "Victor, remember your place. You haven't unlocked your class after that last death. Don't go making yourself a target now. We can't always cover for you out there."
Victor waves him off with a grin. "Relax. I'll unlock my class next, and catch up to you soon enough. They'll see how fast I climb."
Deniro lets out a quiet sigh, shaking his head, while Victor strides ahead, the sack of loot bouncing with his every step toward the junk shop.
"Time to turn this trash into gold," he mutters, a grin tugging at his lips. "Can't wait to get my hands on that Soulpiercer dagger."
***
Now that after all the inmates are pulled back, the Trial Realm out there is being reset. The southern portal now glows a deep red, and will not reactivate until tomorrow.
For the rest of the day, the inmates use their time however they see fit; resting, strategizing, or mentally preparing themselves. Some scout competitors, quietly noting who seems strong or reckless.
While in Gurdat Town, life feels almost peaceful; no hunger, no risk of injury, no urgency. Here, they can afford to be casual. But out there, in the Trial Realm, life is brutally different.
An hour before the southern portal is scheduled to open, the inmates have already gathered there, preparing to move out. As always, Veloldas' group lingers near the back, leaving last, using caution as their shield.
Deniro, however, steps forward, blocking anyone from entering the portal first, his move backed by a carefully crafted plan.
"Listen up!" he calls out. "No one passes this portal for fifteen minutes after I go through. Anyone who tries before that… be ready to die."
His words are a warning, a method to prevent early ambushes and assert control. None of the inmates protest; no one wants to test them.
Even Veloldas' group stays silent, sticking to their plan of exiting last, safest choice as always.
Moments later, a soft chime signals the system's message directly into their minds.
[Notification: Portal Gate will activate in 10 minutes.]
The announcement spreads a quiet tension through the crowd. Years of experience and countless deaths have not dulled the sharp edge of anxiety that comes with facing the unknown beyond the portal. Faces harden, and the weight of what lies ahead settles heavily over everyone present.
But then, from the north, Arven appears. His plain clothing hangs loosely, his bare feet touch the ground lightly, and his expression carries no hint of stress.
"Oh… everyone's gathered already," he says casually.
All heads turn, sharp gazes cutting toward him. Confusion spreads as the floating text above him becomes visible:
[Lv. 1 — The Loser No. 001]
"What the…?"
"Who is this guy?"
"No. 001? And he's still level 1?"
"How did he even end up here?"
Arven ignores them, eyes flicking instead to the portal as its color shifts from red to blue.
"Oh, the portal's about to activate? Strange… why didn't the system notify me? Did the rules change?"
He steps in front of the portal without hesitation, standing there as if no one else exists.
The moment the portal glows fully blue, he steps through. Beyond it stretches a wide, open savanna, the grass swaying under a gentle wind.
Glancing back, Gurdat Town has vanished from view. Yet those remaining in town can see him standing there clearly, their expressions a mix of confusion and disbelief.
But Victor's expression shifts with amusement dancing across his features. He pulls out Soulpiercer, the dagger he bought just yesterday, and sprints toward the portal.
"Time to give this guy a proper welcome."
On the savanna side, Arven notices the glint of light behind him. Spinning around, he sees Victor leap from the portal, dagger aimed.
"Ambush…?" Arven reacts, jumping back.
But Victor covers the distance in a single bound and drives the blade toward his stomach.
Jlb!
Arven's face twists in shock and rage, a deep flush spreading across his features.
He hadn't expected a level 8 inmate to attack him like this, completely ignoring the fact that he was just a level 1 warrior, unarmored and unarmed.
"You…? How dare you…?" he growls.
"What's the matter, old man?" Victor smirks, pressing the dagger further. "Just because you have the lowest inmate number here, you think I'll be afraid of you?"
Arven's face wrinkles, his gaze sharpens. "Fine, I'll show you fear."
Victor blinks, confused. But Arven simply grabs his face with one hand, tightening his grip.
"Grrt!"
Victor feels the pressure, and soon…
"Argh… Aaaarrgh!!!"
He groans in pain, his grip on Soulpiercer loosening.