The air inside the waiting room was thick with tension. Only six hours remained before the next trial, and every second counted.
Zack, Arya, Ellie, Mark, and the others sat around a metallic table, their discussion growing more intense by the minute. The last trial had shaken them, leaving more questions than answers. Nicole had mentioned the possibility of hidden mechanics in the system, and they were still trying to piece together how to exploit them to their advantage.
"The system has rules," Arya was saying, fingers tapping rhythmically against the table. "We just don't know all of them yet. But we do know that our stats and abilities are evolving. That means there's a way to level the playing field."
"But we can't exactly test theories when we're thrown into life-or-death scenarios," Ellie countered. "If we make a wrong move, we die."
"That's why we focus on what we can control." Zack folded his arms, his brows furrowed. "Clark, Nicole, you've been through more trials than we have. You have to know something about how this works."
Clark, who had been leaning back in his chair, gave a small smile. "Knowing something and being able to act on it are two different things. The system is designed to keep us guessing. The moment you think you understand it, it shifts."
Mark sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "So, we're basically walking in blind again."
"Not entirely," Arya interjected. "We do know that our status screens are hiding things from us. If we can figure out a way to access more information, we might be able to predict the next trial's structure before we're actually inside it."
"The problem is," Nicole added, "we still don't know what the system's goal is. It's not just about survival. There's something deeper going on."
Jake, who had been listening quietly, finally spoke up. "Then we need to figure out what the system wants from us. Every test has a purpose. Maybe understanding that will give us an edge."
"Assuming we live long enough to use it," Ellie muttered.
Before anyone could respond, Jake pulled out something from his pocket. A paper.
"I got this from Lewis Adam's wallet before," he opened it.
The others gathered around as he read aloud:
"We are not the first. We are not the last. The system doesn't choose fairly — it chooses who suffers the longest."
A cold silence settled over the group.
"So no one actually escapes," Ellie whispered. "Just trial after trial until… what? We die?"
Mark shook his head. "But why? Why do some people have better stats and knowledge? Clark, Nicole, and Anna seem to know more than we do. Were they in a different timeline?"
"What if this isn't just a game?" Ellie suggested. "What if it's a lab experiment? Testing us? Measuring how far we can go before we break?"
No one had an answer.
Arya leaned forward, staring at the worn paper in Jake's hands. The words etched onto it felt more ominous the longer she read them.
Nicole's fingers drummed against the table. "This isn't just a death game. There's an objective, a method behind the madness. The system is calculating something. The trials, the stats, the way it forces us into impossible choices—it's all leading somewhere."
Clark turned to her. "What?"
Arya hesitated, then took a deep breath. "Earlier, I was looking through some of the old stores before the shadeborns appeared. We found multiple vandals on the walls, maybe from the previous survivors who were here. But one of it, caught my attention, It said: When you feel like you already figured it out, it will show you, ERROR—Administrator Required."
The weight of her words settled heavily over them.
Jake frowned. "Administrator?"
"But why an administrator?" Ellie asked. "Who the hell is the administrator?"
Nicole's expression darkened. "Maybe it's not a person. Maybe it's a role."
A chill ran through Arya. She hadn't considered that. If the system required an administrator, did that mean someone in the past had controlled it? Or worse—was it looking for someone new to take that role?
Mark scoffed. "We're getting ahead of ourselves. We still need to survive the next trial before worrying about the last one."
Ellie nodded. "Right. We have six hours. We need to figure out what's coming next and how to prepare."
—
Jake went out of the stock room, going to the surveillance room, then finally outside. He looked around the mall. It was so quiet like you could hear a pin drop. Afte the discussion they had, he had to clear his head. A lot has been going on and he had no time to process it all at the same time.
He took a deep breath, the cold air biting at his skin as he stepped further into the open. The mall, once a place of noise and chaos, now felt like a hollow shell of what it used to be. The artificial lights overhead flickered slightly, casting eerie shadows across the empty walkways.
He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling slowly. We are not the first. We are not the last. The words from the paper echoed in his mind. The weight of it all pressed against his chest. No matter how much they fought, how much they strategized—it was starting to feel like they were just moving in circles, playing a game they had no real control over.
His grip tightened around the edge of his jacket. 'What are we even fighting for?' he muttered under his breath.
A faint sound pricked at his ears.
Footsteps.
Jake froze, his instincts flaring. The sound wasn't coming from behind him, where his group was, but ahead—deeper into the mall's darkness.
He turned his head slightly, trying to pinpoint the direction.
Another step.
Then another.
Someone was there. Watching. Waiting.
Jake's heart pounded as he slowly reached for the bladepiercer strapped to his thigh. "Who's there?" he called out, his voice steady despite the unease creeping up his spine.
Silence.
Jake's fingers tightened around the handle of his knife. His pulse roared in his ears.
No one answered. Then he stumbled upon a backpack on the floor.
It has initials on it.
E.A.S.
He froze.
It's the initials of his daughter.