Beside Ged sat the boy with the shaved head, his appearance one of complete disarray, panic and despair evident in every trembling muscle. Internally, he was cursing his decision to stay.

"Damn it all!" he muttered, balling his hand into a fist.

"There has to be a limit to this! When are they going to stop? Don't tell me this is a farce and he's actually planning to kill us all!" He wracked his brain for answers, desperately praying for the trial to end and deliver him from the nightmare he found himself trapped in.

But there was no end in sight. An hour had passed, yet the executioners moved like machines, relentless in their grim task, as disciples fell like dominoes, one after another.

The boy's condition worsened, paranoia and fear consuming him entirely. His neighbors were thinning out, one by one. Where once there were nine others beside him, now only one remained.

And though the thought of dying weighed heavily on his mind, another, more troubling concern gnawed at him.

"This man has watched this slaughter for the past hour and still looks as calm as he did when we first got here. I wasn't paying attention initially, but there's definitely something wrong with his head."

He glanced at Ged, who was smiling as he observed a distant disciple's head roll. The shaved-headed boy shuddered in fear.

"Demon!" he screamed inwardly.

He couldn't dwell on his thoughts for long, as the heavy footsteps of one of the executioners drew nearer. In a panic, he hid his face in his arms, trembling and refusing to look up.

"No! Please! Spare me!" he pleaded aloud, his voice cracking with terror.

The footsteps drew nearer until he heard the screams of one of the far away disciples. With dread, he saw that he had survived the passing of one more executioner.

Silence blanketed the area once more, broken only by the snickering laughter of Ged.

"You find this funny? You think this is some kind of joke?" The shaved-headed boy's voice trembled with fear and reproach.

Ged gave the boy a glowing smile, "we are in such a terrible situation, what else can one do but laugh?"

The shaved-head boy stared at Ged, feeling anger well up in his heart, but he held it back.

Although the words that Ged spoke felt like they mocked him, his wealth of experiences being born into a family of criminals cautioned him from any more sudden outbursts, for everything he had been taught up until now had been screaming warning signs about Ged.

For when he looked at Ged what he saw was a psychopath.

A dangerous man free of human emotions, and unbound by social responsibility.

This was the kind of person he had learned to fear.

Within the criminal underworld, he had encountered his fair share of killers, thieves, and drug dealers. But one type he knew never to cross was a psychopath.

These individuals, unbound by the chains of morality and lacking any shred of guilt or remorse, could take their grudges to their absolute extremes.

His syndicate's history had a notorious example. An old leader, Lord Dragtooth, had once crossed a psychopath by shorting him a few hundred dollars for a completed job.

For such a small slight, most would expect a bunch of empty threats or at worst an attempted beating. But this man was different. Without hesitation or elaborate planning, he strapped a bomb to his chest and walked into a crowded restaurant that Dragtooth occasionally visited, detonating himself without checking for sure that Dragtooth was inside.

Ninety people died that day, and by sheer coincidence, Dragtooth was among them. Had he not been there, it would've been nothing more than a senseless act of terrorism. But psychopath's aren't reasonable—there was a chance Dragtooth would show up, and that was all the man needed to risk it all.

This is the kind of thing you have to watch out for as a criminal. Deranged, senseless people are everywhere in the underworld, and sooner or later, you'll find yourself either working alongside them or standing against them.

In the criminal world, survival hinges on two things: knowledge and adaptability. Criminal leaders can change overnight, and someone you once despised might suddenly become your superior. If you're not quick to recognize the reality of a situation, set aside your pride and emotions, and adapt swiftly, then death is almost certain.

That is the ruthless truth of the world of crime.

Had Dragtooth followed this lesson, he might still be alive. But he didn't, and now his story serves as a cautionary tale to others.

The shaved-headed boy lived by these commandments, and was fearful of repeating Dragtooth's same mistakes. Now that he was sure Ged was a psychopath, he hid away all his fears and misgivings he had towards him, and began to adapt.

Forcing himself to laugh, he chuckled awkwardly. "What a positive way of thinking about things!" His voice took on a forced friendliness as he spoke to Ged.

"Brother, after spending all this time together in this terrible situation, I've come to think your perspective is actually quite agreeable. I hope you can forgive me for my earlier behavior."

"Please, call me Wex. If by some miracle we survive this, I think I'd like to get to know you better."

Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author's preferred platform and support their work!

Ged's frown sent a wave of dread through Wex. He cursed his bad luck, fearing he'd said something wrong.

But Ged was looking past him, his gaze fixed on something far away.

"Goodbye, Pim," Ged said suddenly, a smile slowly creeping back onto his face.

"P-Pim? Who's Pim?" Wex stuttered, confusion and fear mixing in his voice.

"My friend, Pim, just died," Ged replied, gesturing with his chin toward a group of nearby disciples.

"Oh… sorry to hear that." Sweat started to bead on Wex's forehead as panic swelled within him. He desperately tried not to say anything that might set Ged off.

"He was a good person, a good friend. I hope he transitions well into his next life," Ged said with an unsettlingly positive tone.

Wex was at a loss for words, his mind spinning. Ged, staring off vacantly, seemed unfazed.

"Friend? What friend? Who smiles while watching their friend's head roll off?" Wex thought, horrified.

He cursed his own rashness for getting involved with Ged in the first place.

"Damn my temper!" he raged silently. "I should never have spoken to him—what a fatal mistake!"

Before his spiraling thoughts could take him further, Ged turned back to him, breaking the silence.

"I accept your apology, Wex."

"I'm Ged. I hope to get to know you better in the future."

He flashed Wex a bright, innocent smile.

A chilling wave of dread crawled up Wex's spine. Ged's smile lingered deep in his mind, sending him reeling. His heart pounded violently, and his breath caught in his throat; only when he turned away could he hold himself together long enough to speak again.

"Brother Ged, I—I wish you the best of luck in this trial. I think… I think I'm going to rest now," Wex stammered, trying to steady his trembling voice.

Without waiting for a response, Wex sank to the floor, closing his eyes as he tried to retreat from the terror gnawing at him. He was utterly drained, exhausted by the constant threat of death and the deeper, unknowable fear of Ged. His mind whirled as his head rested against the cold ground. He vowed not to raise it again, clinging to the hope that this nightmare would soon be over.

The second hour mark had just passed, leaving fewer than two thousand disciples in the room. The atmosphere was quieter now, with those remaining long since resigned to their fate.

The Mahavadha made his rounds, vanishing in front of a cluster of ten disciples before reappearing at a distance, leaving behind only eight.

But instead of vanishing again, he paused for the first time since the trial began, standing motionless as he gazed around the room. He watched with empty eyes as a distant executioner beheaded one final disciple.

"Stop!" he bellowed to the six executioners.

The executioners held their swords back, retreating to the perimeter of the room as they awaited further instructions.

In a blink of light, the Mahavadha returned to the stage one last time to conclude his address to the surviving disciples.

"Look around you," he spoke, his voice deep and unwavering, showing no signs of fatigue from the previous two hours of monotonous killing.

"What you see is the transient nature of death. These were once your brothers and sisters, your friends and your enemies. But the mountain took all their lives for slaughter—without emotion, without reason."

"Imprint this feeling into your hearts," he continued. "This is what it truly means to climb the Mountain."

His voice raised with great passion and fervor as he spoke.

"But this kind of thing takes time to fully appreciate. For all who were lucky enough to survive today, have only just begun this wonderful journey."

"Let us take this moment to say goodbye to your fellow disciples who traveled alongside with us, let us wish them well on their journey towards the Beginning of Everything."

He stood at the front of the crowd, closing his eyes as he sank into prayer. With that, the restrictions binding the disciples were lifted, and for the first time since the start of the trial, they were allowed to move freely.

However, no one was eager to explore the room, some too traumatized by the events of the second trial to lift their heads, while some others couldn't get up, due to their legs having fallen asleep.

Yet all disciples didn't move for one united reason: the fear they felt toward the Church of Mount Existence, and its brutal leader, the Mahavadha. His fearful presence left an unfathomably deep impression on all who had survived. He loomed in their minds like a holy, untouchable God, ready to smite any unfaithful follower with a whisk of his hands.

No one dared to disrespect him as he led them in ritualistic prayer.

All except one person. Ged, still lost in the calming effects of the green grassy hill, felt little danger in the situation at hand. As soon as the restrictions were lifted, he happily vaulted off the floor, stretching his legs and attempting to chat with his newfound "friend," Wex.

Many of those immediately around him cast dreadful looks, as if they expected a strike of lightning to come down and kill him where he stood.

But the Mahavadha never rose from his seat, allowing Ged to continue his antics, much to the chagrin of those around him.

Wex in particular was annoyed by this. He lay despondent wrapped up in a ball pretending to sleep, trying his best to ignore the calls of his obnoxious neighbor.

Seeing no response, Ged shrugged his shoulders and turned his attention to the rest of the room.

With fewer people in the way, he thought he might as well make an effort to search for Raff and Brit. However, since all the disciples were either curled up in fetal positions or kneeling in prayer, it was hard to differentiate between them and the many bodies strewn throughout.

Ged decided his best bet was to move blindly, heading toward the opposite corner of the room in hopes of catching a glimpse of either Raff or Brit along the way.

However, navigating through the ghastly debris of disciples was easier said than done.

After just a few steps, Ged accidentally stepped on the head of a kneeling disciple.

"Sorry."

The disciple shot him a furious glare, his eyes blazing with indignation, before casting a longing look at the Mahavadha, hoping for some justice to be served.

Not wanting to provoke the situation further, Ged ignored his stares and continued his travels to the opposite corner.

Several minutes passed, and seeing that Ged hadn't faced any punishment for his antics emboldened some of the other disciples to become more active themselves. Many more began to stir from the floor, joining him in stretching their legs and chatting amongst themselves.

Far in the opposite corner of the room, a man dressed in a tailored suit also rose from the floor to stretch his legs.

"Raff!" Ged called out.

With a wide smile, he hurried over, trying to close the gap between them. The room was large, and numerous obstacles slowed his run to a crawl, but he gave it his all.

"Raff! You survived!" Ged yelled, his face alight with joy.

Raff stood in a daze. He hadn't fared well during the trial—mentally exhausted, his legs felt devoid of blood, making him sway where he stood. Holding his head, he struggled to keep his stomach from rebelling against the nauseating surroundings.

"RAAFFFFF!!!" Ged began to wave and holler, his voice booming like a cannon and startling the many disciples still wary from the events of the trial.

Finally realizing where the cries were coming from, Raff's mind stirred. He squinted, trying to piece together what he was seeing. In the distance, a happy, smiling Ged frolicked over dead bodies, leaving a trail of angry disciples cursing and rubbing their temples behind him.

He couldn't believe what he was witnessing; the sight made him question if he were dreaming.

Caught in his confusion, he stared disbelievingly at the loud and boisterous Ged, unable to find the words to respond.

But their reunion couldn't happen just yet. The Mahavadha rose from his seated prayer and, in a sweeping motion, dragged his hand across the room, causing both the corpses and the living disciples to vanish from the golden ballroom.

All that remained was him and the six executioners.

"Good, that is finally finished," he said.

"Prepare the high priests to select their children for the third trial. I will be resting in my chambers; I want no more disturbances today." His voice was laced with annoyance and boredom.