"The Exam has ended. The following teams have passed and will be enrolled into Arkphis: Team A, Team L, Team Z. Congratulations."
The battlefield fell into a stunned silence, save for the distant hum of the still-animated robot.
Yumiko, still perched atop the Keystone, stood up triumphantly and stretched, her bell jingling softly. "Whew, that was a close one, huh?" she said with a grin. "All in a day's work for Team Z," she declared confidently wagging her tail.
Yumiko’s triumphant grin faded as she noticed the eerie silence from her teammates. The glow of victory dimmed, replaced by a gnawing unease.
Hopping down from the Keystone, she made her way over to Arc. Her heart sank at the sight—Arc lay motionless on the cracked floor, her pristine uniform marred by dust and scratches.
"Hey, Arc... this isn’t that same trick again, right?" Yumiko crouched down, her voice laced with nervous laughter as she gently poked Arc’s cheek. "C’mon, we passed! No need to play possum now. Seriously, it’s over—wake up."
But Arc didn’t stir.
The faint rumbling of heavy footsteps echoed from Yumiko’s right. Her ears twitched instinctively, and she turned just in time to see a limp Jean hurled toward her. He landed awkwardly against her, his unconscious weight nearly knocking her over.
"Jean!" Yumiko exclaimed, steadying herself and looking him over. His face was pale, and his goggles hung loosely from his neck. He was out cold.
Her azure eyes darted upward, locking onto the towering figure striding toward her. Sosira’s crimson eyes burned behind the hollow sockets of her bone-like mask, the soft glow of their fury cutting through the haze of the battlefield.
Yumiko let out a long sigh, shifting Jean’s weight off her shoulder and setting him gently down. "Lemme guess," she said, her voice tinged with both resignation and annoyance. "You knocked him out right before the timer hit zero. Pretty smart move, I’ll give you that."
Sosira remained silent, her heavy, deliberate steps sending faint tremors through the ground as she walked past Yumiko without a word. Her towering form exuded both exhaustion and defiance, a warrior who refused to falter even in defeat.
Yumiko watched as Sosira made her way across the subway, heading toward Molly, who was still kneeling on the ground, her shoulders trembling with grief.
Sosira knelt beside her fallen teammate, placing a firm but gentle hand on Molly’s shoulder. There was no need for words; the gesture itself spoke volumes.
Yumiko stood frozen for a moment, her usual levity and wit slipping away. She glanced at Arc, then at Jean, her tail flicking anxiously behind her. The weight of what had just transpired began to settle, and for once, she found herself at a loss for what to say.
Yumiko glanced around, her ears twitching as she scanned the area. "Wait… where’s Ajal?"
Her eyes landed on him, sitting alone at the edge of the train tracks. His feet dangled aimlessly above the rails, his posture slouched and his face heavy with dejection.
With concern etched on her face, Yumiko jogged over to him. "Hey," she called out, trying to inject some cheer into her voice. "Kinda hard to celebrate passing with you looking all mopey, those two knocked out, and Ezekiel… well, being Gods know where."
Ajal didn’t respond right away. He let out a deep breath, his gaze fixed on the ruined subway floor beneath him. After a long moment, he finally stood, dusting off his hands. He turned to Yumiko, his lips twitching into the faintest of smiles as he raised a fist in front of her.
"Go us," he said, his tone light but lacking its usual spark.
Yumiko grinned and bumped her fist against his. "Yeah! Go us!"
Before she could say anything more, the world around them began to shift. The subway's cracked walls, the debris, and even the giant robot in the distance—all of it started to dissolve, fading like paint washed away by a sudden downpour. The air shimmered as their surroundings warped and reassembled themselves into the familiar stone halls of the initial colosseum they had entered.
But this time, it was eerily quiet. The once-crowded arena, teeming with hundreds of participants, now held only a handful of people. Twelve, to be exact.
"So, you guys held up your end?" Ezekiel’s voice broke the silence as he approached them, his steps heavy with exhaustion. His face was bruised, his shirt torn, but his tone was as brusque as ever. His sharp eyes immediately fell on Arc and Jean, lying unconscious nearby. "What the hell happened to them?"
Yumiko scratched the back of her head with an awkward chuckle. "It’s kind of a long story," she admitted. "They had to fight that super-strong Drapabarn over there." She pointed toward Sosira, who stood across the hall, her imposing figure still as intimidating as ever.
"Makes sense," Ezekiel replied, his tone neutral. "The archer I had to deal with was way more of a pain than I expected. What about you two?"
"The gravity guy was annoying, but nothing I couldn’t handle!" Yumiko boasted, striking a confident pose with her fists planted firmly on her hips.
Ezekiel raised an eyebrow at Ajal, waiting for his answer. But Ajal wasn’t paying attention. His gaze was fixed on Molly, who sat a short distance away with her teammates gathered around her. She clutched Jolly tightly in her arms, her tear-streaked face buried in the plush rabbit’s tattered form. Her team murmured words of comfort, but nothing seemed to reach her.
Molly’s eyes suddenly lifted, locking onto Ajal’s. Her tearful expression twisted into one of pure rage, her glare cutting through the distance between them like a blade.
"Hey, Reaper," Ezekiel said, flicking the back of Ajal’s head to snap him out of his daze. "I asked you a question."
Ajal flinched and turned back to his teammates, forcing a smile onto his face. "Oh. Uh, yeah," he said, his voice unnaturally energetic. "It was rough. They were way stronger than I expected."
Yumiko tilted her head, studying him curiously. But she didn’t press the issue.
As Ezekiel crossed his arms, his sharp gaze scanned their surroundings. The tension in the room was palpable, each team reeling from their own battles and processing the weight of what had just happened. But for Ajal, the weight felt heavier than ever. Molly’s glare lingered in his mind, her grief and anger a silent accusation he couldn’t shake.
A smooth, confident voice cut through the lingering tension in the room like a knife. "Let me be the first to congratulate all of you on passing the exam."
All eyes turned toward the grand entrance of the hall, where four figures stood silhouetted against the light. At the forefront was an old lady in a kimono holding a sleek black cat with a large witch hat, its piercing green eyes scanning the room with a quiet intensity. The other three figures loomed behind him, their presence enigmatic yet commanding.
As Ajal’s gaze drifted across the room, the distinct sound of someone stretching echoed through the heavy silence, the creak of leather faint but deliberate. He glanced to the side, and his eyes landed on a girl sitting casually on the edge of a nearby table.
She wasn’t from any team he recognized, but she stood out immediately—like a storm brewing amidst the static air. Her dark hair was pulled into twin ponytails, both tumbling down her shoulders in loose, rebellious waves. The ends of her black locks shimmered faintly with streaks of violet and indigo under the hall’s dim lighting. Her bangs framed her pale face perfectly, highlighting striking violet eyes that seemed to glow with mischief and danger.
A crooked smile played on her lips, her confidence palpable and infectious. Her outfit was unapologetically punk rock: a cropped leather jacket adorned with metal spikes and chains, the deep crimson lining peeking through whenever she moved. Beneath it, a torn fishnet top layered over a black bralette revealed a bold tattoo of a skull and roses etched on her shoulder, its intricate details a testament to her bold personality. Her black shorts, barely visible beneath the oversized jacket, were paired with fishnet tights ripped at the knees, while combat boots with thick soles and silver buckles completed the look.
But what really caught Ajal’s attention was the weapon lying beside her. Leaning lazily against the leg of the table was a chainsaw—completely out of place yet somehow perfectly fitting. The chainsaw's body was painted a shocking, eye-catching pink, its surface plastered with punk-rock stickers that declared statements like “NO RULES,” “LOUDER THAN HELL,” and a skull-shaped logo surrounded by flames. The chain itself glinted with a silvery edge that looked razor-sharp, ready to roar to life at a moment’s notice.
The girl stretched again, arms overhead, her joints popping audibly. Her attitude was as casual as her smile, as if she were immune to the weight of the moment. She let out a satisfied sigh and leaned back on her hands, her sharp nails, painted in black and violet swirls and adorned with tiny silver studs, tapping rhythmically against the metal table.
"Well, this is a cozy little gathering," she drawled, her voice laced with playful sarcasm. "Is this where they hand out the awards for 'Most Dramatic End-of-Exam Performance'? Because I’m pretty sure I won that."
Ajal blinked, intrigued by the girl's attire. "Who the hell are you?"
Her violet eyes locked onto his, and her smile widened into a grin that teetered on the edge of amusement and mockery. "Relax, Reaper. I’m not here to steal your scythe. Name’s Rayven," she said, gesturing lazily to herself before pointing a finger down at her weapon. "And that’s Pink Death over there. Don’t worry, she’s not as scary as she looks. Unless I turn her on."
"Pink… Death?" Ajal echoed, his brow furrowing.
"Yeah, what’s wrong? Not edgy enough for you?" Rayven quipped, her laughter bubbling up like she’d just told the funniest joke in the world.
Yumiko, who had been watching silently, couldn’t help but snicker at the exchange. “I like her,” she muttered, nudging Arc’s unconscious body.
Rayven’s gaze flicked to Yumiko, her grin widening even further. "Oh, I like you too, kitty. Wanna team up next time? I bet we’d cause all kinds of chaos together."
“Hard pass,” Yumiko replied with a smirk.
Ajal, meanwhile, couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that there was more to Rayven than her carefree attitude suggested. Her demeanor might have been lighthearted, but those sharp eyes told a different story—one of someone who was always calculating, always watching. And the way her fingers lingered near the chainsaw’s handle didn’t help ease his unease.
Before Ajal could respond, the woman with the black cat stepped forward, her voice commanding their attention once again. "Now that we are all here, we shall begin with the introductions. I am your principal, Spry Culpa, and these four are your professors."
Rayven leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand as her grin softened into something more curious.
The three other figures stepped forward, their features gradually coming into view as they emerged from the light. The black cat leaped gracefully from the principal’s arms, landing beside the trio and sitting with an air of authority.
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Miki was the first to introduce herself. Stepping forward with a bright smile, she bowed deeply to the students. "My name is Miki. I’ll be overseeing your Divinity training. It’s an honor to guide the next generation." Her voice was warm and sincere, radiating enthusiasm.
Next was Garth, who scratched the back of his messy hair with a sheepish grin. "You can just call me Garth—no need for any 'Mister.' I’m here to teach all the practical stuff—the boring stuff." He chuckled awkwardly, shifting his weight as though embarrassed by his own presence.
A brief pause followed before the final figure spoke, his tone cool and laced with subtle amusement. "I guess I’ll go next, since Fil here is too stubborn to speak up," he said, gesturing towards him. "Hello, students. I’m Lucius. I’ll be handling your mission logistics and serving as your guidance counselor. And before anyone says yes, I am a talkin—"
"Whoa! The cat is talking!" Yumiko blurted out, her voice cutting through Lucius’s introduction with wide-eyed shock.
Ajal and Ezekiel glanced at her with deadpan expressions, unamused.
"What? Is that not surprising to you guys?" she asked, looking between them for validation.
Lucius let out a smooth chuckle, his whiskers twitching with amusement. "Well, in their case, I suppose not. But unlike our dear Yumiko here, I’m not some transformation type—just your average feline. Although," he added with a sly grin, "I’m probably the most handsome one you’ll ever meet."
"Enough." The stern voice cut through Lucius’s playful tone as the last figure, Fil, finally spoke up. His gaze swept across the group, sharp and assessing. "My name is Fil. I’m paid to teach you about the Nine-Step System. I don’t plan on taking it easy on any of you, so prepare yourselves." His no-nonsense demeanor left no room for doubt—he meant every word.
The principal let out a small sigh. "I'm sure you all have plenty of questions. They shall be answered once you are recovered and in the classroom for now, though, please follow us. Our transportation to the campus awaits." She gave a courteous nod and motioned for them to follow.
As the teachers filed out, the students were left with no choice but to follow suit.
Rayven hopped down from her perch on the table, her chainsaw held in one hand. She made her way over to her teammates, who were still standing by the wall, waiting patiently.
“So, think there’s a limousine waiting out there for us?” Rayven teased, nudging her teammate’s side with a playful smirk.
The teammate in question, Kiera, snapped her head toward Rayven, her emerald-green eyes narrowing with irritation. Kiera’s fiery temperament was written all over her, from the taut line of her lips to the defiant tilt of her chin. Her sun-kissed complexion seemed to glow under the light, contrasting with her sharp, no-nonsense expression. Her green hair, tied into a sharp, high ponytail on the right side of her head, swayed slightly with her movements. Dangling from one ear was a sleek green earring that swayed as she turned.
Her bright orange jacket hung open, her black crop top hinting at a sense of athleticism.. Her frayed denim shorts, slightly worn at the edges, added to her effortless look of confidence, while her black boots grounded her stance like she was ready to charge into another fight at any moment. Her hands perched firmly on her hips, nails painted a fiery orange to match the daring hue of her jacket, as if every part of her dared the world to challenge her.
“Limousine?” Kiera barked; her voice sharp with disbelief. “Are you serious right now, Rayven? Were you born stupid or did you get dropped on your head when you were a baby? This is an exam. Not a goddamn beauty pageant. You better take this seriously, or I swear—”
Before she could finish her rant, a soft, melodic laugh cut her off. Beside her, the third member of their team, Zee, smiled serenely, her golden eyes gleaming with a mischievous glint. "Calm down, Kiera. I think the limousine idea is fun. Why not enjoy the ride?" she teased, her tone light and unbothered.
Kiera snapped a glare at her teammate, but Zee remained entirely unfazed, leaning casually against a nearby wall, one gloved hand resting on her hip while the other held a can of soda. She brought it to her lips for a quick sip, the action as effortlessly cool as the way she carried herself.
Zee’s afro was a wild, cloud-like halo of white that framed her face, contrasting sharply against her deep, warm bronze skin. It gave her a vibrant, almost ethereal air that somehow matched her laid-back demeanor perfectly. A playful smirk lingered on her lips, revealing just enough of her confidence to make it impossible to tell if she was joking or serious.
She wore a simple white t-shirt tucked into high-waisted denim shorts frayed at the edges, and thigh-high, tattered white stockings that hugged her long legs. Black suspenders added a casual flair, accentuating her relaxed yet striking style. Her fingerless black gloves, worn and scuffed, gave the impression that she was no stranger to a fight, despite her carefree attitude.
Zee’s presence radiated calm, even in the middle of Kiera’s growing frustration. She gestured lazily toward Kiera with her free hand, the movement drawing attention to her carefully painted nails—a soft gold polish with intricate, swirling designs that mirrored the glow of her eyes. “I mean, after everything we’ve been through, don’t you think we deserve a little luxury?” she said, her smirk widening as Kiera’s frown deepened.
“You’re not helping, Zee,” Kiera growled, her fists clenching.
"Sure I am," Zee replied, taking another sip of her soda with a wink. "I’m keeping you entertained. Ain't that right Vail?"
Leaning against the wall across from Zee and standing just barely at five feet tall, Vail’s presence somehow managed to command attention despite his diminutive stature. His pitch-black hair was a wild mess of soft curls, framing his pale, angular face and sharp crimson eyes that seemed to glint with an eerie intensity, even in the dim lighting. The contrast of his fair skin against his dark attire gave him an almost otherworldly look, as if he had stepped out of a gothic painting.
Vail wore a simple yet refined ensemble: a sleek black button-up shirt tucked neatly into fitted slacks, the cuffs rolled up slightly to reveal slender wrists. Over it all, he sported a long, hooded cloak that fluttered faintly with his movements, its edges frayed and worn from years of use. A vial of deep red liquid, dangling on a thin chain, caught the light with a hypnotic gleam—its contents as mysterious as the man himself. It swayed faintly with each subtle shift in his posture.
“Don’t drag me into your nonsense, Zee,” Vail said, his voice carrying an easy calmness that somehow quieted the room. He pushed off the wall and walked toward them, his movements fluid and measured, the kind of effortless grace that came from confidence rather than arrogance.
Zee grinned, unabashed. “Come on, boss, you know I’m just keeping things lively. Kiera needs someone to help her loosen up a little.”
Before Kiera could retort, Vail’s sharp crimson eyes flicked toward Zee. “Wait—did you just say I’m little?!” His voice suddenly spiked with disbelief, his calm demeanor replaced with a fiery glare.
Zee blinked, confused. “What? No. I wasn’t talking about you at all.’”
“Don’t lie to me, Zee! I heard you!” Vail crossed his arms, his narrowed eyes darting suspiciously between her and Kiera. “What, you think because I’m short, I can’t handle myself? I’ll have you know—”
Zee cut him off, hands raised in mock surrender. “Vail. All I said was ‘she needs to loosen up a little’. She. As in Kiera,’ not ‘Vail.’ Not to mention, no one said anything about height.”
Vail froze, blinking rapidly as if recalibrating. “…Oh.” His arms slowly uncrossed, and his expression shifted back to his usual calm. “Right. I see.” He cleared his throat, straightening his coat as though nothing had happened. “Good. That’s what I thought.”
Rayven couldn’t suppress a snort, her lips curling into a smirk. “Wow, Vail. short temper, much?”
Vail’s calm demeanor shattered like glass, replaced by an eruption of fiery indignation. His face contorted, veins visibly throbbing on his temple as his crimson eyes flared like twin infernos. “WHAT DID YOU JUST CALL ME?!” he bellowed, his voice rising to a pitch that reverberated through the room. His tiny frame seemed to swell with sheer fury, hands clenched into trembling fists at his sides.
His teeth gnashed together in a sharp, exaggerated snarl. “Short? Little? WHO SAID THAT?!” His body practically radiated frustration as his glare darted between Zee and Rayven, who were both trying (and failing) to stifle their laughter.
Kiera fixed Vail with a blank, unimpressed stare. “Jeez, chill, dude.”
Zee, still clutching her stomach from laughter, barely managed to point at Kiera. “You—telling someone to chill? Oh, that’s rich!” she wheezed, her laughter bubbling over.
“Huh?! What’s that supposed to mean?!” Kiera barked, her temper flaring as she stomped toward Zee, only to be held back by Rayven, who was still snickering. “Let me at her!” Kiera growled, arms flailing as Rayven, shaking with barely-contained laughter, tightened her grip on her fiery teammate.
“Don’t push her too hard, Zee” Vail said, smoothly resuming his usual tone as if his outburst had never even happened. “We don't know if they have more tests waiting for us. So, we need everyone in top form, and that includes you keeping your mischief in check.”
“Who, me? Mischief? Never.” Zee feigned innocence, though the smirk tugging at her lips betrayed her.
Vail let out a soft sigh, though there was no real irritation in it. “You’re lucky I know you mean well,” he said, crossing his arms as he stood before them. Even with his small frame, his confident stance and sharp gaze left no doubt as to why this team looked to him for leadership.
“Let’s go. The limos might be waiting for us,” Vail said, raising his arm to gesture toward the direction the teachers were heading. His coat shifted with the movement, the fabric sweeping dramatically as he pointed.
“Not you too!” Kiera groaned, throwing her head back in exasperation.
“Relax, Kiera,” Zee chimed in, casually draping an arm around her shoulders with an easy grin. “Just enjoy the moment. We made it, and that’s what counts. Come on.” Without waiting for a reply, Zee grabbed Kiera’s wrist and tugged her forward.
Kiera shot an irritated glare over her shoulder at the rest of the team, her lips pulling into a reluctant pout. “Whatever,” she muttered, begrudgingly following Zee.
Rayven slung her chainsaw over her shoulder with ease, its pink, sticker-covered surface gleaming in the light, and merrily trailed behind them. Vail chuckled softly under his breath and joined the group, walking just a step behind Rayven.
"Well, they don’t seem crazy at all," Jean quipped sarcastically, groaning as he finally stirred awake from his unconsciousness.
“Oh, look. Sleeping Beauty decided to join us,” Ezekiel said dryly, barely sparing him a glance.
“Sure am,” Jean replied, brushing off the jab with a smug grin. He turned to Arc, who was sitting upright on her knees, her posture prim and composed. “Arc, you okay?”
Arc’s eyes remained closed, her hands resting gracefully in her lap. “I’m fine, Master Jean. Certainly faring better than you.” A soft, self-satisfied smile tugged at her lips, betraying her amusement.
“Hey! That last jab was totally unnecessary!” Jean exclaimed.
“Glad to see you’re not dead!” Ajal said, laughing at the exchange.
“Y’know, that’s rich coming from you of all people,” Jean shot back, rolling his eyes.
Yumiko doubled over in laughter, her joy infectious as she took in the playful banter.
“So,” Jean said, glancing around. “Judging from where we are and the number of people left, I’m guessing we passed?”
“Sure did,” Ezekiel replied with a short nod before letting out an exaggerated sigh. “Cat girl, catch him up on everything while we walk. I’m not interested in being the last team to leave this place.” Without another word, he turned on his heel and began striding off.
Ajal hurried to catch up, falling in step beside him. “You’re pretty competitive, huh?” he said with a grin.
Ezekiel gave him a sideways glance. “I just don’t like wasting time,” he muttered.
The rest of Team Z followed suit, with Yumiko taking it upon herself to explain everything that had transpired to Jean and Arc. As they walked, the sound of their voices echoed through the empty arena, filling the space with a mix of camaraderie and relief now that the trial was over.
The only people left in the hall were Team A.
Molly sat frozen, her head bowed low, her hair shadowing her eyes. Her hands clutched Jolly tightly; the once-cheerful stuffed rabbit now limp in her grasp. She hadn’t loosened her hold, nor had she spoken since the announcement ended.
Cassian, standing nearby, slid one hand out of his pocket and scratched the top of his beanie, his usual carefree demeanor replaced with unease. “Molly, we really should get going,” he said gently, trying to coax her out of her silence.
Her grip on Jolly tightened, her knuckles white as her jaw set in defiance. She didn’t so much as flinch.
“Come on,” Cassian tried again, his tone a mix of encouragement and nervousness. He glanced over his shoulder for backup. “Sosira, Jing—a little help here?”
Jing, the archer, simply shrugged, his bow slung lazily over his shoulder as he leaned against the wall.
“Right,” Cassian muttered awkwardly, scratching his neck. “Not much of a talker, huh?”
Sosira’s crimson gaze cut sharply toward him, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly.
Cassian immediately froze, clamming up with a nervous laugh. “Right... shutting up now. My bad.”
“I’ll go,” Molly said quietly, her voice soft but strained. “Just... give me a second.”
Cassian opened his mouth to reply, but Sosira spoke first. “Molly,” she said, her tone firm but not unkind. “I know you’re hurting, but we have'ta go.”
Molly remained still for a moment, her breath shallow and uneven. Then, after what felt like an eternity, she slowly pushed herself to her feet. Her grip on Jolly never faltered, the stuffed rabbit still pressed tightly to her chest.
Her teammates watched her carefully as she began walking toward the entrance, her steps heavy and deliberate. Though her movements obeyed their call to leave, her shadowed eyes made it clear her mind was far away.
Cassian and Jing exchanged a look, both their expressions tinged with concern. While Jing remained his usual quiet self, his gaze lingered on Molly a second longer than usual. Cassian hesitated before stuffing his hands back into his pockets, unsure of what to say.
Sosira, however, kept her eyes forward, her expression unchanging as she fell into step behind Molly. There was no hesitation in her stride, no glance backward at the rest of the team. Her presence alone was enough of a reminder for them to follow.
And so, they did, their footsteps echoing softly in the hall as they left the arena behind.
With their exit, the doors shut behind them, and the room was finally silent.
Only the shadows were left.