Hugh and I dashed forward, devouring the ground with feet that barely touched the metal. We reached the entrance of the majestic tower sitting in the middle of that blue pool at top speed. The tower was like a steel giant exhaling suffocating oil vapors, and at its base stood twelve glass elevators, distributed with a terrifying geometric precision. We stood there panting, my crimson eyes scanning the area; the elevators were dormant, metallic corpses waiting for a pulse to operate. Everyone stood around them in a charged silence, anticipating the moment when the "unknown" down below would decide to activate our paths.
Suddenly, the silence was shattered by a violent mechanical shriek. The number (5) glowed in phosphorescent green above one of the doors. That was the spark that ignited the powder keg. The fifth group bolted toward their target in a collective hysteria, but before they could take their second step, something happened that I was completely unprepared for.
In the blink of an eye, and with a speed that made the movements of ordinary humans look like a slow-motion display, Hugh lunged from my side. He was no longer the boy I had been protecting with my shadow; he was a mass of muscles and nerves supercharged for murder. He pounced on the first member of the fifth group, grabbing his jaw and the back of his head. With a lightning-fast motion that took fractions of a second, he slammed the boy's head into the reinforced steel of the elevator. The sound wasn't a scream; it was a deep, dry crack—the sound of a skull shattering, announcing the end of consciousness. Hugh spun with a terrifying agility, delivering a roundhouse kick that landed dead in the center of the second opponent's chest. I could actually hear the crunch of the ribs caving inward to crush the lungs.
I froze in place for a moment. Was this Hugh? The speed he displayed wasn't the product of ordinary training; it was an innate savagery hidden behind his innocent face. He left them no room to scream. He was fighting to ensure no one ascended before us, to protect the path we had paved with the blood of (42).
My shock didn't last long, for the number (8) glowed green above another elevator. I shot like an arrow toward the attackers who tried to exploit the chaos. I clashed with the first, landing a straight punch that shattered his nose; I felt the warmth of his blood smear across my fist. I took a kick to my thigh that threw me off balance, but I dug my fingers into my attacker's collarbone and squeezed with all my might until I heard the sound of tearing ligaments. I was striking and getting struck, adrenaline flowing through my veins like magma. My crimson eyes caught glimpses of Hugh on the other side; he was immersed in a bloody dance, breaking arms and shattering knees with a ferocity I hadn't seen even in my darkest nightmares.
Suddenly, a deep bell rang, shaking the metallic floor. Number (2)... our elevator! "Skyro! The elevator!" Hugh screamed in a hoarse voice that sounded nothing like his gentle tone.
We dashed toward the door, which opened like the maw of a starving beast. We entered, and the doors began to close, but the other children, who had lost their minds to terror, swarmed the narrow opening like ants. They clung to the edges, their screams filling the place with despair. I didn't hesitate. I raised my foot and kicked the face of the boy clinging to the door. I felt the bones of his face crumble under my heavy boot as he was thrown backward, crashing into the others. The steel doors slid shut, cutting off the breaths of the base below.
The elevator began to ascend with a provocative slowness. The silence inside was so heavy it felt like pressure building in my ears. We looked at each other, Hugh and I, our faces smeared with blood that wasn't ours. I knew that our lives at this very moment were hostage to the fingers of (42), lying at the bottom of the pool, digging his nails into a needle-covered button to supply this glass box with power.
And just as we were about to reach the second floor, the nightmare happened. The elevator shuddered violently, throwing us against the walls. The gears stopped turning, and the green lights flickered out. The blood froze in my veins... Did (42) die? Did his shredded hands let go of the button?
The elevator went into freefall. The drop made my stomach knot, and electrical sparks began flying from the overhead cables that were starting to snap. Suddenly, with a deafening metallic crash, the fall was arrested, and the elevator locked in place. Then, it surged upward two meters with a strange mechanical fury, only to drop again and halt. It was seconds of pure terror; the elevator swayed like a pendulum suspended over the abyss. I looked up. The upper ledge of the second floor was appearing and disappearing with the box's violent rocking.
"Hugh! When the elevator reaches the highest point of its next swing, I'm going to jump!" I yelled, bracing myself. "If the elevator falls, grab my leg and don't let go!"
The elevator lurched upward with a final, desperate burst of power, and I jumped with every ounce of strength in my legs. I grabbed the cold metal ledge, feeling as if the muscles in my shoulders would explode from the sudden weight. Hugh jumped right after me and grabbed my legs. At that exact moment, the main cable snapped. Elevator Number (2) plummeted into the depths of the shaft, smashing into the bottom with a steel explosion that shook the entire core of the tower.
I pulled myself and Hugh up onto the solid floor of the second level. We lay there for a few seconds, gulping down air thick with the stench of death. I stood up and looked down. The other shafts had become glass tombs. Children crushed beneath their elevators, others trying to scale the smooth metal walls with bleeding fingernails before slipping and shattering like pottery.
The area before us contained twelve glass boxes mounted on solid walls, and inside each box was a long, folded ladder. I sprinted toward box Number (2) and inserted the black iron key. The key turned with a heavy screech, and the box sprang open, allowing the metal ladder to slide out.
But before we could pull it down, I took a blow to the center of my stomach that folded me in half, gasping for oxygen. It was a kid from another group, his eyes glinting with the madness of survival. He had barely raised his hand to strike me a second time when Hugh pounced on him. I saw Hugh clamp his fists around the attacker's face, smashing it with rapid, emotionless strikes. He kept hitting until the opponent's features were completely unrecognizable.
"Skyro! The ladder!" Hugh yelled, kicking the lifeless body away. "Throw it down the shaft now!"
I grabbed the heavy, folded ladder and, with all my might, hurled it down into the shaft where our elevator had fallen. This was the only way for (42); the elevator was destroyed, and he wouldn't be able to exit the water and climb up except via this ladder, which now extended from the first floor all the way up to our position.
I helped Hugh fight off the rest. It was a grueling battle in a confined space. We spotted a group that had managed to ascend to the third floor, so we chased after them, climbing with whatever speed was left in our exhausted bodies. We reached the third floor, where the corridor ended in 12 massive gates, and beside each door were three electronic facial scanners.
Group Number (1) was standing there, waiting for their third comrade who hadn't emerged from the water yet. One of them, wearing a torn shirt bearing the number (60), looked at us and said with a calmness completely out of place given the massacre below: "Let's negotiate... Any new group that comes up now, we crush them and throw them off this high balcony. Only we and you get to cross... What do you say?"
I looked at Hugh, then at the corridor behind us. We needed to buy time until (42) arrived. I nodded: "Agreed... no problem."
Group Number (12) arrived, and the moment their feet touched the third floor, our two groups pounced on them. The massacre was gruesome and silent; the children were thrown over the high balcony, the echoes of their bodies hitting the ground below lingering for seconds before fading. The member from Group (1) laughed coldly: "See? This is how we ensure peaceful negotiations when our comrades arrive."
I watched them, feeling the pulse of my crimson eyes quickening. I was saying to myself: Idiots... you have no idea who we are waiting for. The process continued for minutes; group after group was wiped out at the edge of the balcony, until only Groups (1) and (2) remained in the long corridor.
A heavy silence reigned, broken only by the sound of the cold wind blowing from the ventilation shafts. Suddenly, the silence was pierced by a distant scream, a scream whose hysterical tone I recognized. "You will not pass these stairs before me, you nobody! Your death is right here under my feet!"
It was the voice of (42). In that instant, and before I could even comprehend the nature of the battle he was fighting down below, Hugh moved.
There was no order from me, no signal. Hugh grabbed the head of the boy (Number 60) who had been negotiating with us moments ago. With a sudden, lightning-fast motion, he smashed his face into the steel wall with a force that made the crunching bones sound like shattering glass. He didn't stop; he lifted him while he was still bleeding profusely and tossed him over the balcony in cold blood, exactly the way one disposes of worthless trash.
I looked at Hugh in absolute shock. I didn't tell him to attack... How could he do this so coldly?
Hugh didn't give the second member of the first group a chance to process. He attacked him like a hurricane, wrapping his strong fingers around the boy's throat, fighting him with a silent, terrifying brutality. He lifted him by his neck until his eyes began to bulge out, and with a dry, sickening motion, the crack of cervical vertebrae snapping was heard. He killed him in seconds, then tossed him over the balcony after his friend.
A terrifying stillness settled over the corridor. Hugh stood with his back to me, panting with a strange regularity. Then he turned and looked at me with a calm smile—a smile that sent shivers down my spine. "Now... no one will bother us, Skyro."
At that moment, (42) appeared at the top of the stairs. His body was coated in water mixed with blood, and his hands were two masses of mangled flesh because of the needles, yet he was laughing out loud. "I smashed their last friend's head down below..." (42) said, looking over at the falling corpses. "Where is the rest?"
Hugh wiped a speck of blood from his cheek and said with a glacial simplicity: "We finished them all."
I said to myself: I had been delusional... There are no good people in this hell. Everyone here is a professional killer, and mercy is just a distant memory we buried in that blue pool.
The three of us lined up side by side in front of the third gate, in a perfectly straight line just as the instructions demanded. The optical scanners cast their red beams across our faces, examining our features smeared with blood and gunpowder. After seconds of deadly silence, an electronic hum sounded, announcing acceptance. The giant doors opened to reveal a new dark corridor awaiting its next victims.
We entered with steady steps, leaving behind a symphony of shattered bones, ready to face whatever crueler fate awaited us in the Third Section.