Chapter 3: Survive
Rattle. Rattle.
The transport cart shuddered violently, metal grinding against metal as it trundled forward through unseen tracks. Every jolt sent passengers lurching into one another, with the dim overhead light flickering in protest.
The air was thick with the sharp stench of blood, sweat, and something chemical. Chains clinked softly in the dark corners, and low, guttural chuckles rose and fell like a distant echo.
Thud.
Leo's skull slammed against cold steel, and his eyes snapped open as white-hot pain splintered through his head. For a moment, everything was blurred shapes and smeared shadows, the dizziness clinging to him like a heavy fog.
His breath hitched. His pulse thundered in his ears, as conscious thought finally returned to his head.
'Where... am I?' Leo wondered, as the small flickering coach light briefly illuminated the faces opposite him— faces laced with twisted grins and sharp teeth bared in something between amusement and hunger.
Blades glinted faintly in their hands, smeared with something viscous and dark.
"Look who finally woke up," a voice rasped, dripping with amusement, as Leo found one of the men in the coach, staring right at him with his tongue out.
The man was ghastly pale in complexion, his skin stretched taut over sharp cheekbones and hollow eyes that gleamed with faint amusement. A jagged scar ran diagonally across his face, starting just above his brow and disappearing beneath his crooked grin.
But it wasn't the scar or the hollow stare that made Leo's breath hitch—it was the horns.
Twisted, coiling horns sprouted from the sides of the man's head, curling backward like those of a mountain goat. They were smooth and ridged, faintly glistening under the flickering light.
Leo's chest tightened as he instinctively shrank back against the cold steel wall of the cart. 'Horns? Why does he have horns?'
His gaze darted across the cramped space, scanning the other passengers, and a chill crept up his spine. The figures around him—seven of them, hunched, predatory—were not entirely human either.
One had grayish-blue skin, its veins glowing faintly beneath the surface. Another had serpentine slits for pupils, flickering over Leo with cold calculation. A third passenger, half-hidden in the shadows, let out a low, inhuman hiss from between pointed teeth.
Leo's breath came faster now, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm in his chest.
'Where am I? What is this place?'
He squeezed his eyes shut, pressing his fingertips against his temples, trying—desperately trying—to remember.
'How did I get here? What happened before this?'
But the moment he reached for those answers, a sharp, stinging pain tore through his skull, like shards of glass embedded in his brain. He gasped, clutching his head as a wave of nausea washed over him.
The memories remained elusive, hidden behind a fog of agony and confusion.
When the pain finally ebbed, Leo was left panting, sweat dotting his brow. His mind was a blank slate—a dark void where his past should have been.
Except for one thing.
Leo Skyshard.
His name. He clung to it like a lifeline, his only tether in the swirling chaos of his fractured mind.
Everything else—the cart, the twisted faces around him, the flickering light—it all felt foreign, like he'd stumbled into someone else's nightmare.
But this was no dream.
It was real. And the fact that it was real, made Leo panic even more.
'What the hell is going on here? Why are the faces around me not even human?' Leo wondered, as he felt something crunching in his left palm.
Although he had been clutching onto that object for a while now, Leo only became aware of its existence when he gripped his left palm hard and the papery texture crunched faintly under his fingers.
Slowly, cautiously, he unfurled his trembling fingers, revealing a crumpled, yellowed piece of paper smeared with faint streaks of something dark.
Its edges were frayed, and the paper felt coarse and brittle, as though it had been handled far too many times before reaching him.
With furrowed brows, Leo carefully unfolded it as jagged, hurried handwriting unfolded before him in smudged black ink:
"You might not remember this, but your name is Leo Skyshard, and you are one of the best assassin's from Earth, not that it matters much here on Planet Rodova.
Your mission currently is to survive the academy entrance test.
Win.
And you will get the answers you seek beyond the gates of the Academy.
My only advice for you is trust no one and that failure to enroll shall mean death."
The words were sharp, final, like a death sentence carved into stone.
Leo's breath caught in his throat as his eyes lingered on the final line. Failure means death.
His hand trembled slightly as he read the note again, his pulse hammering against his ribs. The Academy? A test? Survive?
Nothing made sense, and yet... something deep within him—a primal instinct, maybe—screamed that every word on that note was the truth.
'Survive...'
His grip on the paper tightened. He didn't know who he was supposed to trust, what kind of test awaited him, or where this Academy was, but he knew one thing: he couldn't afford to fail.
Taking a steadying breath, Leo began to fold the fragile paper back into a neat square, intending to tuck it somewhere safe. But before he could finish, a sharp hissing sound cut through the low murmurs of the cart.
Tssst.
A single droplet of thick, glistening liquid flew through the stale air and landed on the corner of the paper.
The effect was instantaneous.
FWOOSH!
Bright orange flames erupted from the point of contact, devouring the paper in seconds. Leo yelped, dropping it as the fire scorched his fingertips. The burning paper fluttered to the grimy floor of the cart, curling in on itself until it was nothing but a heap of blackened ash.
Across from him, one of the passengers—a wiry man with hollow cheeks and serpentine eyes—lowered a small glass vial filled with glistening green poison. His lips curled into a smirk as he gave Leo a slow, mocking nod.
"Careful with secrets, little lamb," the man hissed, his voice slithering between his teeth like smoke. "In here, they're more dangerous than blades."
Leo's jaw clenched as he stared at the smoldering ashes on the floor. Whatever fragile shred of direction that note had given him was now gone.
All that remained were the words "Survive the test."
And the hungry stares of the creatures sharing the cart with him.