Silence ruled our white room for long hours—a silence that buzzed in the head like a ceaseless alarm. The guards brought a luxurious meal: roasted meat and fresh fruits. But we all knew the truth; this wasn't a reward. It was "fuel" for the human engines before they were consumed in the final massacre. We ate in silence. No one savored the taste; we were merely charging our bodies.
Half an hour remained until the test. Everyone in the room isolated themselves. Dan tore the bottom hem of his shirt and tied it tightly around an old wound on his hand, as if barricading any exit for pain. Hugh sat with his eyes closed, seemingly in a state of funeral meditation. Han (21) was terrifyingly still, neither moving nor blinking, as if he were part of the room's metal furniture. As for Ellie, she was tying back her hair with intense focus.
I approached her as she tightened the band. She turned to me with a cold smile and said: "No time for relationships, Skyro... we are now in a test where we fight each other. Remember that well." I told her calmly: "I don't want to build relationships, but I want to ask you... how did you know 21's name?"
Her hands finally stopped. She turned to me, looking deep into my eyes in a way that made me feel she was reading my thoughts. "On our first day in the factory... before we turned into numbers, and before our identities were erased... Han was with me in the same experimental group. I caught a glimpse of his file on a doctor's table during the examination. It was written in bold red ink: Subject 21 - Han. My mind never forgot that name, because Han was registering numbers in the physical strength tests that made the doctors tremble."
Silence fell once more—a silence broken by the chiming of the white door's bell. The door opened with a heavy, mechanical slowness, announcing the end of isolation and the beginning of the massacre. We walked out one after the other, ten children in clothes stained by the traces of the past days, marching down the long white corridor that seemed to have no end.
We reached the armory. The walls were covered with every kind of cold-blooded killing tool. "Each of you take one weapon and get out!" the lead guard shouted in a tone that brokered no argument.
Hands reached out; Dan took a short blade, Hugh took a long blade, and Ellie took twin daggers. As for me, I picked up a sharp, well-balanced knife... a weapon I knew how to use with precision.
We stepped out into the grand courtyard. It wasn't an ordinary arena; it contained five massive buildings—solid white boxes with no windows, exactly like the ones that housed the laser test on our first day. Suddenly, walking with confident steps, Hairo appeared. He wore his elegant white suit with blue accents on the edges, smiling that smile that made you feel you were nothing but a trivial chess piece on his board.
"Welcome, elites of the Third Section," Hairo said, his calm voice reaching every corner of the courtyard. "Today, only five of you will cross into the Second Section. The test's rules are simple, but its execution is complex: whoever destroys the other... wins."
Dan asked him in a gruff, defiant tone: "Can we kill them?" Hairo laughed with amusement and nodded: "That is even better, 39... you will save us the trouble of manual elimination. Every two competitors will enter a box, and you will find your opponent's number on the external screen."
I turned toward the first box. My number (37) gleamed on the screen, and on the other side appeared the number that made my heart stop for a second: 21. I felt an icy shiver race down my spine. I turned around and found Han standing before the screen, staring at my number with absolute coldness. He carried a long blade, its edge reflecting the pale light of the courtyard.
"Enter... and let the party begin!" Hairo shouted.
I entered the white box. The space inside was vast, the walls blindingly white. Dead center was a black "Digital Collar" next to an activation switch. This was the prize; whoever wore the collar and walked out was the survivor.
(Please prepare... The test will begin in 30 seconds).
Han stood on the opposite side. Suddenly, his posture changed. He leaned his body slightly forward, gripped his blade with both hands, and planted his feet in a way that hinted at explosive power. He wasn't just going to fight; he was preparing to devour me. I stood before him, gripped my knife tightly, and began analyzing the distances, the angles, and the speed of the faint breeze generated by the ventilation system.
3... 2... 1...
Han launched forward like a cannonball. I had never seen a human move with such speed. In a fraction of a second, his blade clashed against my knife. The sound of metal striking metal echoed like an explosion in the confined box. I felt a jarring shock in my arm that nearly ripped the knife from my grip.
He gave me no chance to breathe. The strikes rained down with maddening speed. Han overpowered me in every aspect; the force of his blows shattered my defense, and the speed at which he changed direction outpaced my mental processing. I was retreating, merely defending, and the knife in my hand began to feel heavy.
But the analyst's instinct inside me hadn't died. While I was dodging strikes that nearly took my head off, I began to notice a pattern in his assault. Han trusted his strength and speed to such a degree that he left a microscopic opening when transitioning from a high attack to a low one. It was a suicidal risk to exploit, but it was my only chance.
On the next barrage, I deliberately left my left side open. Han lunged exactly as expected, aiming to drive his blade into my chest. In that instant—with a fluid motion learned from hundreds of hours in street fights and grueling factory training—I shifted my body by mere inches and thrust my knife with all the strength I possessed toward his right hand wielding the weapon.
I succeeded! The blade of my knife pierced the flesh of his hand. His weapon dropped, clattering against the floor. I felt the ecstasy of victory for a second... but it was the last second of my psychological peace.
Han stopped in his tracks. He didn't retreat; he didn't grab his bleeding hand. He stood with a bizarre rigidity, and suddenly, I felt an immense pressure in the air. It was as if gravity had multiplied tenfold. The ground began to vibrate beneath my feet with subtle tremors.
And without warning, Han raised his head. His eyes had turned deep red. They weren't the red of human blood; they were red like a raging ember in the deepest layers of hell.
[The Real World - Ray's Voice]
Skyro looked at me, trembling from the memory, and said: "I remember those eyes very well... they looked terrifyingly like your eyes, Ray. But there was something missing in them. They looked... synthetic. Like a cold imitation devoid of those deep symbols that reside in yours. They were eyes designed to see death, not to command fate."
I was stunned... my eyes widened and my body stiffened... Like my eyes?
(Skyro continued)
"The moment his eyes glowed, I lost the ability to track him. He wasn't just moving; he was disappearing and reappearing. I didn't comprehend what had happened until I felt a freezing cold pierce my entrails. I looked down and found the knife buried dead center in my stomach. I didn't feel pain at first, only the cold and the loss of control over my body."
Han withdrew the knife with lethal calmness. I fell to my knees, then collapsed onto the floor, vainly trying to close the wound with my hands. Blood was gushing between my fingers like a river. Han looked down at me, and I saw nothing in his red eyes. No pity, no sorrow, no tension, not even anger. To him, I was merely processed data, an obstacle on the path that had been successfully cleared.
Han slowly picked up the Digital Collar, fastened it around his neck, and walked out of the box with absolute coldness. I remained lying there. My vision began to blur, and sounds grew distant. I heard Dan's scream from the adjacent box, laughing with the madness of victory, and I heard Ellie's clapping as she shouted enthusiastically: "Even you, Hugh... you passed! We are in the Second Section!"
But the moment Han walked out of my box, a funeral silence fell over the courtyard. I heard Dan's voice asking, with genuine concern for the first time: "Where is Skyro?" And when he saw Han walking out alone, the blade in his hand dripping heavily with blood... Dan's voice cut off. I felt the silence drape over the courtyard like a shroud.
I heard Hairo congratulating them, explaining the features of the collar, how they were now "free" in the Second Section, and how they could live normally outside the factory and receive missions. They all walked away; the sounds of their footsteps faded, and I was left alone in the white box, drowning in a pool of my own blood. I looked up at the ceiling, and the white light began to fade into darkness. I said to myself: This is the end... I will just be another number in the casualty logs.
Minutes later, I heard the sound of quiet footsteps—footsteps that didn't sound like a guard's. A face appeared above me. It was Hairo. He was smiling with his usual coldness, looking at me as if I were an incomplete painting.
"Hello, Skyro..."
I said in a hoarse voice, blood spilling from my mouth: "What do you want? I lost... finish me off."
Hairo chuckled lightly and knelt beside me: "Oh, about that... you truly did lose, Skyro. But, as you know, I do not like discarding the exceptional ones. You were up against Number 21, against those eyes... It is perfectly natural for any human in your place to meet this end."
I glared at him with a hatred that even the throes of death couldn't extinguish: "So... is it time to slaughter me?"
"No..." Hairo replied, standing up and turning to a group of doctors and guards who had appeared behind him. "I want him on his feet and moving within twenty-four hours. Skyro, you are too smart and far too useful to die here. The Second Section awaits you... but on my own terms."
I closed my eyes as the doctors began to surround me. I no longer knew what reality was. The person who had robbed me of my family had just granted me life. He saved me in the exact moment I wished for death.
[In the Real World]
Skyro looked at me bitterly and said: "I felt a strange emotion then, Ray... It was a mix of a soul-burning hatred, and a filthy gratitude I never wanted to admit. I had become indebted for my life to my worst enemy."