We’re sitting in the waiting room, anticipating the final exam. The room looks like any other – rows of plastic chairs, fluorescent lights overhead, and air thick with tension. Most participants sit quietly, pretending to focus on themselves, but their eyes constantly dart around the room. I lean against the wall, refusing to sit on those chairs, which look like they’re begging for bedsores.

I try to concentrate, but my thoughts keep drifting back to the labyrinth.

If it weren’t for that old geezer... I clench my teeth, holding back my irritation. I’ve got nothing against the elderly, but Witold? He was dead weight. Pretended to be weak so we’d do all the work. Then he jumps into the fight with the Minotaur and suddenly plays the hero. Because of him, we weren’t first. Such a failure? Unacceptable.

I glance at Izak Pilsudski. The idiot is sitting a few chairs away, grinning like nothing’s wrong. How can he be so relaxed? Does he even understand how important this exam is?

My eyes scan the rest of the participants. There are only twelve of us left. Two of them had the nerve to share their full names—Pilsudski and that girl, Lucja Serafin. The rest, myself included, prefer to avoid the risk of disgrace in case of failure. Lucja looks like a kid, but I know she’s 16. Those red marks under her eyes… I’ll have to watch out for her.

The others don’t leave much of an impression. Klara, the 13-year-old prodigy from Germany; Adhiraj, some prince from India who probably bribed the examiners; Anna, who seems way too naive; and Sora, the overly serious Asian guy. Maja? Definitely nobility. Grazyna looks like a goth who hates the world, Makoto’s carrying a katana, so probably Japanese, and Tommy… well, he hasn’t looked up from his console once.

And then there’s Witold, watching us all with that strange half-smile, like a retiree enjoying the sight of young, energetic people fighting for his approval.

“Kornel,” Pilsudski says, breaking my train of thought.

I raise an eyebrow, staring at him with clear impatience.

“What?”

“Do you have a last name?”

Seriously? This guy is actually asking me about my last name, like we’re in elementary school? I frown and look away. There’s no way I’m explaining that my name is Mickiewicz. I’d rather be judged for what I can do, not where I come from. Besides, I know exactly when I plan to reveal it.

“It’s a secret. I’ll tell you if you pass the final exam,” I say.

Pilsudski smirks like he’s just thought of something brilliant.

“Deal. Oh, that reminds me, I noticed something interesting.”

Before I can respond, he bolts out of the room.

About ten minutes later, the door bursts open, and Pilsudski walks in carrying a full box of colorful cans. He’s barely been gone, and already he’s causing chaos.

“Look what I found!” he announces cheerfully, setting the box in the center of the room. “It was sitting near the entrance. Must’ve been left for us to drink before the exam.”

I roll my eyes. Seriously? This is supposed to be the future elite? A few people glance at him uncertainly, but no one speaks up.

“Who’s first?” he asks enthusiastically.

Lucja, of course, grabs a can first. She takes a sip, licks her lips, and shrugs.

“Not bad.”

Her boldness convinces a few others. Anna takes one, followed by Maja and Sora. I watch as Pilsudski pops open a can, drinks, and leans back against a chair, clearly satisfied.

I just stare at the suspicious drinks.

“No way,” I mutter under my breath.

Lucja takes another sip, smiling slightly. The rest of the group looks like they’re trying to convince themselves these are just ordinary drinks. Some hold their cans silently, while others try to appear relaxed. I stay in my corner.

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A few minutes pass. I see Maja talking to Anna, clearly trying to take charge of the situation. She exudes that confidence I recognize – typical of nobility.

“So,” she begins, glancing my way, “who do you think has the best chance of winning?”

Anna looks a little flustered and just shrugs. Maja presses on.

“I’ll be blunt—I intend to win.”

I chuckle softly, just loud enough to draw attention.

“Ambitious. Nobility?”

She lifts her chin with a dismissive smile.

“You figured me out quickly. Don’t expect any leniency, though—I plan to crush you in the final stage.”

“Sure,” I reply, mentally noting to keep an eye on her.

Sora, sitting quietly nearby, suddenly speaks up.

“Maybe confidence is good. But… a little humility wouldn’t hurt.”

I glance at him, surprised. He doesn’t seem like the type to jump into conversations.

“And you? What brings you here?”

He’s fiddling with a small LEGO model, looking completely at ease.

“I like building LEGO,” he says calmly, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“LEGO?” I repeat, raising an eyebrow.

“It helps me relax,” he adds.

I’m not sure what surprises me more—what he’s saying or the way he says it. But before I can ask anything else, some people start looking uneasy.

Anna is the first to break. Her face pales, and her hands begin to tremble. Lucja watches her with mild surprise.

“You okay?”

Instead of answering, Anna bolts for the bathroom. A moment later, Sora and Maja follow her.

I look at Pilsudski, who’s clutching his stomach like something just hit him.

“Oh no…” he groans.

Lucja shrugs, taking another sip of her drink.

“Wonder what’s happening,” she says casually, like it’s no big deal.

I can’t help but laugh.

“Seriously? Pilsudski, what did you do this time?”

He looks at me, his face twisted in pain.

“How was I supposed to know? They’re just drinks!”

Izak bolts for the bathroom, faster than I’ve ever seen him move. I glance at the box of cans and shake my head.

“Alright, I’ll go check if everyone’s still alive,” I mutter, heading toward the men’s restroom.

As soon as I walk in, I’m greeted by groans and muffled cries coming from behind the stalls.

“Pilsudski?” I call out.

“Still alive! But it’s bad, man,” he replies, sounding like he’s on the brink of collapse.

I step closer.

“Just tell me—where did you find those drinks?”

A quiet groan comes from his stall.

“They were outside some lab door.”

I freeze for a moment, processing what I just heard.

“You idiot…” I finally say, leaning against the wall. “That was probably some failed experiment meant for disposal, and you thought it was snacks for participants.”

“Hey, relax!” he groans from inside. “I’m a sigma, I’ll be fine.”

I burst out laughing.

“A sigma?” I repeat, and suddenly something clicks in my mind.

That word sparks a chain of thoughts. I remember looking into the gallery attack in Rzeszow and stumbling across the name Pilsudski—one of the survivors. This can’t be a coincidence.

Could this moron really be AlfaSigma69? The same one who disappeared from the game right when the attack happened? For a moment, I try to make sense of it all. Something doesn’t add up, yet the pieces seem to fit.

I stare at the stall door, still hearing Pilsudski’s groans. In my mind, I begin to piece together an answer to a question I hadn’t even asked. But I don’t confront him. If he really is who I think he is, I’ll find out soon enough.

Suddenly, a robotic voice echoes from the speakers:

“Participants, please proceed to the underground coliseum. The final stage of the exam begins in five minutes.”

I push off the wall and glance at the stall.

“Time to move. Let’s see what you’ve got, sigma,” I say mockingly, hiding my newfound suspicion.

I leave the restroom, letting him fend for himself. If my hunch is correct, everything will come to light sooner than Pilsudski expects. The finale awaits, and I need to be ready.

At least everyone managed to finish up in time…