Lily's gaze dropped to the stone beneath her feet.
At first, it looked like nothing more than worn rock—aged by time, scratched by countless footsteps. But then the light shifted, catching along carved grooves that hadn't been visible before.
Words.
Carved deep. Intentional. Impossible to ignore.
Trial of Decisions.
The letters weren't just etched—they felt imposed, as if the stone itself had been forced to remember them.
A faint chill crept up her spine.
Not fear.
Not quite.
But something close.
She turned back to the others, her expression tightening slightly. "We should decide carefully. This doesn't look like something we can brute-force."
Her voice echoed faintly down both corridors.
Two paths.
Both silent.
Both waiting.
Gina crossed her arms, already analyzing. Her eyes flicked between the entrances, scanning not just the obvious, but the subtle—airflow, mana density, even the way shadows pooled unnaturally along the edges.
"Right door," she said without hesitation.
Lily blinked. "That fast?"
"Our team composition favors direct confrontation," Gina replied calmly. "If this trial is testing decision-making, then choosing a path aligned with our strengths is the most logical answer. The left could involve traps, puzzles, or conditions we can't easily adapt to."
Arlen gave a small nod, his hand resting lightly on the hilt at his side. "Agreed."
Lily looked between them.
It made sense.
Simple.
Efficient.
Still…
Her eyes drifted back to the carved words.
Trial of Decisions.
"…Then right it is."
The moment the choice was spoken aloud, something in the air shifted—subtle, but unmistakable.
As if the maze itself had acknowledged it.
They stepped forward.
Arlen naturally took point, his movements controlled and deliberate. Even in silence, there was a quiet confidence to him—the kind that came from experience, not arrogance.
Lily followed just behind him, her senses stretched outward.
She didn't just see the corridor.
She felt it.
The currents of air brushing against her skin.
The faint fluctuations of mana embedded within the walls.
The slight, almost imperceptible vibrations beneath their feet.
Anything out of place—she would catch it.
Gina remained in the center, her position not one of weakness, but of necessity. Her strength wasn't in direct confrontation—it was in control, support, and precision.
Which made protecting her the most efficient strategy.
The corridor gradually narrowed as they advanced.
The light dimmed.
The silence deepened.
Then—
A faint sound.
Fluttering.
Soft at first.
Barely noticeable.
Lily's head tilted slightly.
"…Did you hear that?"
Arlen didn't answer.
He had already drawn his blade.
The sound grew louder.
Closer.
Then—
They came.
Bats.
A handful at first, their small bodies darting through the air in erratic patterns. Their movements were quick, but unrefined—more instinct than strategy.
"Low-level," Arlen muttered.
He moved.
One clean swing.
Two.
Three.
Each strike precise, efficient—no wasted motion.
Lily stepped in to assist, a flick of her wrist sending sharp bursts of compressed wind slicing through the air. The currents disrupted the bats' flight patterns, throwing them directly into Arlen's range.
Within moments—
The first wave was over.
Bodies hit the ground.
Still.
Silent.
But Lily didn't relax.
Because something felt… off.
The deeper they moved, the more the bats changed.
Their numbers increased.
Their movements sharpened.
Their attacks became coordinated—no longer random flailing, but deliberate strikes aimed at vulnerable points.
"Behind you," Lily warned.
Arlen pivoted instantly, blade flashing as he cut down two bats that had attempted to flank him.
More came.
Faster.
Stronger.
The air filled with the sound of wings and shrill cries.
But even then—
They weren't enough.
Not for this team.
The final bat fell.
Silence returned.
And that's when Lily frowned.
Her eyes lingered on the ground.
"…Why aren't they disappearing?"
The question hung in the air.
Unanswered.
Arlen lowered his blade slightly, his gaze following hers.
"…You're right."
Gina crouched immediately, picking up one of the fallen bats with careful precision. Her fingers pressed lightly against its body, testing, analyzing.
Her expression shifted.
Subtle.
But serious.
"This isn't a construct."
Lily blinked. "What do you mean?"
Gina shook her head slowly. "Simulated monsters—like the ones we've seen before—they're partially formed from mana. Their physical structures are incomplete. But this…"
She paused.
"…This is entirely real."
The words settled heavily.
Lily straightened. "So… this is intentional?"
Arlen exhaled quietly. "It has to be. If real monsters were introduced without the academy's knowledge…"
He didn't finish the sentence.
He didn't need to.
That kind of breach would mean something far worse than a test gone wrong.
Gina set the body down carefully.
"…Then we proceed under the assumption that this is part of the trial."
No one argued.
But the unease didn't fade.
The next encounter came faster.
A low growl echoed through the corridor.
Then another.
And another.
The sound reverberated off the walls, making it difficult to pinpoint their exact location.
Until—
They emerged.
Bloodhounds.
Large. Muscular. Their bodies low to the ground, muscles coiled with tension. Their jaws glistened with saliva, sharp teeth catching what little light remained.
"Stay behind me," Arlen said.
He stepped forward before anyone could respond.
The hounds lunged.
Fast.
But Arlen was faster.
Light gathered in his hand, forming into a blade that shone with a steady, controlled brilliance.
He swung.
The first hound was cut cleanly across the side, momentum carrying it past him as it collapsed.
Another leapt—
Lily moved.
A sharp burst of wind struck its flank mid-air, throwing it off course.
Arlen's blade followed.
Clean.
Efficient.
Gina's voice cut in, calm but focused. "Left."
A barrier formed instantly.
One of the hounds crashed into it, its jaws snapping just inches from Arlen's arm.
The shield held.
Barely.
Arlen stepped back, repositioning.
Then forward again.
Within seconds—
It was over.
The hounds fell.
One by one.
Heavy bodies hitting the ground with dull, final thuds.
And once again—
They didn't disappear.
This time, no one commented.
But all three noticed.
All three understood.
Something about this trial wasn't consistent.
The corridor shifted again.
Narrower.
Darker.
And then—
Movement.
From the walls themselves.
Cracks.
Thin at first.
Then widening.
From within them—
Snakes poured out.
Dozens.
Their bodies twisting over one another, scales scraping against stone as they surged forward in a writhing mass.
Lily didn't hesitate.
This time—
She acted first.
Mana surged.
Air compressed.
Then—
Release.
A single spell.
The corridor erupted.
Wind roared forward like a blade, tearing through the swarm with overwhelming force. Bodies were thrown back, crushed, shredded—
Gone.
Silence followed.
The air stilled.
Lily exhaled slowly, lowering her hand.
"Done."
She turned.
Already moving forward.
She didn't see what happened next.
But Gina did.
She watched.
Closely.
Every fragment.
Every motion.
And she saw it.
The remains—
Faded.
Dissolved.
Vanished.
Unlike before.
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
"…Strange."
But she said nothing.
Not yet.
The waves continued.
Different monsters.
Different patterns.
Different levels of threat.
But always—
The same inconsistency.
Some bodies remained.
Some disappeared.
No clear pattern.
No obvious rule.
By the fourth wave, it was no longer coincidence.
It was deliberate.
But before they could stop and analyze it—
The corridor ended.
And another set of doors stood before them.
A board rose from the ground between the two paths.
The surface shimmered.
Then—
Words began to form.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
As if something unseen was writing them in real time.
Lily stepped forward, reading aloud:
"The left door leads to a Spider General."
"The right door leads to a Professor."
"The Professor will have one restriction to make the battle fair."
"Defeat one, and you pass."
"Choose wisely."
Silence followed.
Heavy.
Then—
"Spider."
"Spider."
Gina and Arlen spoke at the same time.
Lily let out a small breath, tension easing slightly. "Yeah… same."
Even restricted, a professor was still a professor.
An advanced mage.
The difference in experience alone would be overwhelming.
Too many unknowns.
Too many risks.
A Spider General, on the other hand—
Was dangerous.
But defined.
A known threat.
Something they could plan around.
"Left door," Arlen confirmed.
They didn't rush.
Didn't act impulsively.
Each of them took a moment.
Adjusting grip.
Steadying breath.
Preparing.
Then—
They stepped forward.
Elsewhere in the maze—
Kane, Olivia, and Corey stood before a door that didn't belong.
Gold.
Not painted.
Not plated.
It felt like gold.
Heavy.
Opulent.
Wrong.
Ornate carvings covered its surface, intricate patterns twisting into shapes that almost seemed to move if you stared too long.
"…Well," Corey muttered, adjusting his glasses, "that's not suspicious at all."
Kane smirked. "It's obviously something special."
Olivia leaned closer, eyes sparkling. "It's so pretty…"
Corey frowned. "That's exactly why we shouldn't trust it."
But even as he said it—
They all stepped forward.
Emblems were placed.
The door opened.
The difference was immediate.
Gone were the narrow corridors.
Gone was the oppressive darkness.
In its place—
Luxury.
Marble floors stretched out beneath their feet, polished to a mirror sheen. Chandeliers hung overhead, dripping with crystal light. The walls were adorned with decorations that looked like they belonged in a royal palace, not a testing ground.
Olivia spun slightly, taking it all in. "Whoa—this place is amazing!"
Kane walked forward without hesitation.
Corey stayed tense. "…This feels wrong."
"It is," Kane said simply. "That's the point."
They reached the end of the hall.
A single podium stood waiting.
Three slots.
They placed their badges.
Light flickered.
An illusion formed.
Words appeared above them.
Kane read:
"The left door has a twenty percent chance of leading to an automatic pass."
"An eighty percent chance of automatic failure."
Corey grimaced. "That's awful."
Kane continued.
"The right door has a thirty percent chance of each of you facing your greatest fear…"
Olivia stiffened slightly.
"…and a ten percent chance of an automatic pass."
Silence.
"…That's worse," Corey muttered.
"Once chosen, there is no turning back."
"Choose."
No one spoke.
Not immediately.
The weight of the decision pressed down on them.
Not strategy.
Not strength.
But chance.
Fear.
Uncertainty.
Kane's gaze slowly lowered.
Then he pointed.
"…Look."
Carved into the ground—
The words:
Trial of Luck.