Chapter 9. Selection (4)
Clack.
A black-suited man pushed open the enormous door. He then stepped inside the bleak, dimly lit room, which had a heavy, oppressive atmosphere. A sharp sound then cut through everything like a piercing arrow.
“Hadn’t I made it clear not to interrupt me during work?” the room’s owner barked at him before he could fully set foot inside.
Harona’s feet dangled from the too-tall chair, making her appear childlike. Treating her as such, however, was grounds for beheading. Still, the man held firm—neither swayed by her harmless appearance nor driven by fear of death.
“It’s something urgent, Lady Harona,” he said.
“Urgent?” Only then did Harona peek out from behind a dense cloud of floating screens, looking as sharp as ever. “If it’s not truly urgent, I’ll make you regret it.”
He flinched slightly, yet quickly composed himself. It was that urgent.
“The trial has ended at sector 107.”
“Sector 107?”
“Yes, remember the extermination arena you opened? You know, the one for trash—I mean the ones with basically no potential.”
“And?”
“Well...”
“Can’t you see that I’m busy? Spit it out and leave.”
Harona sounded irritated. Since it was an extermination zone, everyone should have already been eliminated. What could possibly have gone wrong?
“Well, you see, there are thirteen survivors.”
“What?”
Harona could not believe what she just heard. The extermination arena was self-explanatory; it was meant to wipe everyone out.
Once the ground tilted, it swept through the whole field in an instant, and the fire would take whoever was left. With a small group, there was a chance of survival. However, with over a dozen people, there was no way they could coordinate fast enough to find balance.
“That’s impossible. Was the activation faulty?”
She had left before the mechanism went off because her work had piled up.
“It was activated correctly. I've even confirmed that the Flame of Equilibrium incinerated two participants.”
“Then how?”
“Didn’t you mention someone in 107 was particularly clever?”
Now that he had mentioned it, she remembered that there was one. It was the guy who covered the safe zone with a screen, leaving behind more survivors than planned.
“Still. Even if someone figured out the rules with a few mental tricks, establishing balance that quickly just doesn't make any sense.”
“Maybe they managed to persuade the others?”
“In that short a time?”
She knew that people didn’t blindly follow orders when faced with death. In other words, the culprit likely had sharp instincts, decisive action, and maybe even charisma. Harona started to question who that one could be.
“Hmm... Their initial stats were unimpressive across the board.”
“Perhaps someone activated their skill after the trial started?”
“Already?”
Such a person did pop up every now and then. They had something they would give their entire soul to obtain—something they had yearned for their whole life. Ironically, the more desperate they were, the narrower their vision tended to be, and there was always something deeply twisted about them.
“I guess we’ve got an interesting one then,” Harona murmured, thinking out loud. Unconsciously, the corner of her lips curled into a smirk. “I want to see for myself. Send down the Eye.”
“Yes, Lady Harona.”
The man bowed and turned to leave when she called him again, “Wait. Remember the monsters we sent to sectors 101 and 102? You know, the ones that annihilated everyone. How many of them do we have left?”
Since there were many clever candidates in those sectors, the monsters had been sent to strengthen the survivors.
Sensing the Administrator’s hidden scheme, the man’s expression hardened. “You’re not thinking of sending those, are you?”
“How many?!”
“All ten are still alive. We sent five to each sector, and not a single one was taken down.”
The elite gathered were said to have gathered in those sectors—the top first percentile, endowed with both intelligence and charisma. However, contrary to the administrative team's high expectations, they were wiped out in an instant. They all flailed in confusion, unable to put up a proper fight even once. They probably failed to overcome their physical limitations.
"The mobility gap is too great. They won’t even be able to land a proper hit before they all go down."
If the trial’s difficulty was too high, a proper assessment became impossible. He thought Harona would know that.
“I suggest we just send one—”
"Send all ten."
"Lady Harona!" the usually composed man shouted.
Harona merely slipped back into the sea of screens as if she had said all she needed to.
“I’m just really curious.”
“Curious about what?”
“If he’s just all brains or if he's got brawns too.”
***
“Do a hundred laps of ten meters. No breaks.”
“What?”
Eun-Ho’s instructions made the sparkle in everyone’s eyes fade. Their eager expressions stiffened, lips pursed, and eyebrows knitted. Clearly, this was not the answer that they had been hoping for.
After a moment of silence, one questioned, “You’re joking, right?”
“O-of course he’s joking. It’s not like we just study a textbook and get perfect scores on the college entrance exam or something.”
Some of them waved their hands dismissively, as if brushing off a lame joke.
“I’m serious.”
“W-wait, are you saying we’ll actually get that skill or whatever by doing that?”
“Well, that’s how it worked for me.”
“Huh... That’s more unusual than I expected.”
Despite their skepticism, people began stretching, cracking their necks, and shaking out their limbs.
“W-well, I might as well try running.”
“I’m in!”
“But there’s no guarantee it’ll work the same for—hey, are you even listening?”
Swoosh.
Before Eun-Ho could finish his sentence, the small crowd that had been surrounding him scattered like a receding tide. Moments later, they were all dashing around the exhibit hall as if possessed.
“Ha... It’s not going to work, though.”
He recalled the system message that he had received.
[Congratulations! Thanks to your unique adaptability, relentless drive to run until your heart bursts, and the muscle memory of overtaking others etched into your very being, you have unlocked a Unique Skill.]
The system message did mention that it was a Unique Skill.
It likely meant that each person would receive an ability tailored to them. In other words, the others wouldn’t necessarily get the same outcome just because they followed in his footsteps.
“They’re all surprisingly athletic.”
“Yeah. They didn’t look like the type to exercise at all.”
Everyone except Ji-Eun and Jae-Hyuk was sprinting around, panting heavily. The whole exhibition hall of the game company now looked more like a gym getting ready for a Track and Field Day.
Out of nowhere, a heavy silence fell over the noisy crowd. A strange dissonance enveloped them, as if time itself had been sliced apart and stitched back together the wrong way.
Startled by the ominous sensation creeping over their skin, someone finally asked, “Did something just—”.
From beyond the silence, a strange creak echoed.
Everyone’s eyes turned toward the noise.
“H-H-Hyungnim! Look over there!”
A crack had formed in the empty space—or rather, in what they thought was empty space. Like glass breaking, the very air shattered open.
“T-the sky’s falling!”
“Aaah! Somebody help us!”
The security guard fled to a corner. The woman from accounting crouched down and clutched her head, trembling.
“Holy shit! Is that my skill?!” The foul-mouthed man threw his hat in the air in sheer delight.
[By the Administrator's authority, the Eye is now open.]
The Eye emerged slowly through the fractured ceiling.
“What the...”
It was a massive, disembodied eye that was large enough to cover most of the empty space. The grotesque contrast between its translucent sclera and pitch-black pupil chilled the air.
Upon meeting its gaze, the survivors tensed up. A chill ran down their spine and spread all over, making them feel as though their soul was being ripped out. They started to wonder, Is this what an alien crop circle would look like if it came to life?
[The trial has started.]
No one was paying attention to the system message. Everyone was still frozen and staring at the massive eye, including Eun-Ho.
Unfortunately, the surreal nightmare that they had stepped into had just begun.
Kyeaaaah—!
A high-pitched scream pierced the air from somewhere in the distance.
“Did you hear that?”
“Ugh, it sounded like nails on a chalkboard!”
Then, something appeared in midair. It gleamed, reflecting sunlight—or maybe some kind of artificial light—like a polished blade. However, it was not metal, but a beak.
“A bird...?”
[Eliminate the Razor-Beaked Bird.]
It was a bird with a wingspan of likely around three meters, jet-black feathers, and a few horn-like crests on its head. It also had a razor-sharp beak that seemed capable of slicing through steel.
“Jae-Hyuk! Hide!”
Kyeaaah—!
Swish!
The bird shot forward like a missile, its beak slicing past Jae-Hyuk’s ear.
“Aaagh!”
It did not touch him, but the corner of a wooden shelf beside him was neatly carved away. Jae-Hyuk, moving faster than the scream that he’d just let out, dove under the nearest display case.
“What the hell is that?!”
Clang!
In a split second, the bird slammed its beak down. However, instead of Jae-Hyuk’s head, it struck the stainless steel display case.
“Squawk?”
At that speed, its beak should’ve snapped. However, with its beak still lodged in the display case, the bird just flapped its wings and rolled its round eyes as if nothing had happened.
“Hey! You, tanned man over there! You okay?!”
“I-it should be over now, right?” some innocent soul dared to ask, trying to calm their pounding heart.
“I don’t think so...”
“Kyeaaak—! Keeeek! Keeeak!”
The trapped bird shrieked, sounding somewhere between a rusty hinge and an alarm siren. It writhed like some innocent victim caught in a cruel hunter’s trap. Was it calling for help?
“It’s calling for backup! Everyone, hide!”
“Keeeek—!”
One wall of the exhibition hall warped and shattered. Then, from the twisted surface, another hulking bird with a sharp beak emerged. The creatures cried out in alternating bursts, as if signaling to one another.
“Shit! Don’t just stand there! Run!”
“I—I can’t! It’s blocked off here!”
People tried to escape from the exhibition hall, but they were blocked by an invisible wall. There was a resounding thud all around, probably from people banging their foreheads.
Flap—!
The situation did not look too great. Eun-Ho scanned the area but found no suitable hiding place. The creatures were moving way too fast.
“Hyungnim! I-I’m okay, so just go! Get out of here!” Jae-Hyuk shouted despite being unable to move. It was uncharacteristically brave of him.
Where could they even run to? They were trapped in here either way.
Whoosh!
The birds flew in, slicing through the air. They were targeting Eun-Ho, who was next to the bird that got stuck. Jae-Hyuk, who was trembling violently, was also nearby.
“Eun-Ho! Can’t you use your skill?!” Ji-Eun asked.
Eun-Ho ducked low as a razor-sharp beak missed him by inches. “With just my skill, dodging is the only option. I don’t have a weapon!”
Even if he slowed them down with Acceleration, it was not like he could take out all the birds floating in midair at once. Besides, how was he supposed to attack with just two fingers?
“A weapon...” Ji-Eun bit her lip, appearing worried. She then rushed over to a woman hiding behind a display case. “Ye-Ji! The sword!”
“W-what?”
Lee Ye-Ji from the accounting team, a woman in a business skirt, trembled while hugging her knees. Her state was reminiscent of Ji-Eun's during the second trial, when she shook helplessly under the team leader’s corpse.
“Can you lend it to me for a second?”
“B-but what about me?”
Clang—!
“You saw what Eun-Ho did with his skill, right? If anyone can use that sword to save us, it’s him. Please!” Ji-Eun pleaded.
Even so... it’s a reward item. Asking her to give it up doesn’t make sense.
“Ye-Ji, you wouldn’t know how to use it even if you kept it, right?”
“T-that’s true, but...”
“I’ll give it back after I use it. I promise! Thank you so much!”
Wow, so it is possible.
Snatching—no, forcefully borrowing the sword from Ye-Ji, Ji-Eun sprinted over to the security guard.
“Can I have your sh—”
“My shield? Here!”
Ji-Eun had undeniably grown stronger. Whether it was her mental resilience, an innate strength of will, or both, Eun-ho could not quite tell.
“Eun-Ho! Catch!”
Swoosh—!
Eun-Ho raised the shield and gripped the sword that Ji-Eun had thrown to him. The only sword training that he had ever had was a couple of months of kendo during his childhood.
“Trial reward.”
[Please choose your trial reward.]
“Upgrade Acceleration.”
Eun-Ho had time to get used to the sword.
[Acceleration(Lv. 1) has been upgraded to Acceleration(Lv. 2).]
[Upon casting, one second will be extended to 10 seconds.]
“Eun-Ho! Be careful!”
Eun-Ho smiled sheepishly at Ji-Eun and muttered under his breath, “Well, I don’t think I can be careful.”
The sixty-second cooldown left him with no other choice.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
“H-Hyungnim! What are you doing?! Why are you drawing all the attention to you?!” said Jae-Hyuk.
That was the only way to gather and strike them all at once.
“Squawk?”
As Eun-Ho raised the glowing deep-blue sword, the dumb bird flailed desperately, trying to yank its beak free. Its sharp claws slashed wildly in a flurry of endless attacks. Nevertheless, it could not prevent the blade from plunging straight into the back of its neck.
Swoosh—!
"Kyeaaak—!"
"Kyeeeek!"
The birds’ rage over their companion’s death echoed through the air—their cries and killing intent converging on Eun-Ho from all directions.
One. Two. Three. Four... Eight.
Eun-Ho then pushed off the ground and leaped toward the last one. Just as all nine birds simultaneously dove down, beaks flashing, he yelled, “Acceleration!”