The survivors stumbled forward as the portal spat them out, landing in a room eerily similar to the Pentagon. But, the pristine white walls were gone, replaced by smooth, metallic surfaces. It is a huge metallic chamber, with a cold and eerie atmosphere to it.
In the center of the chamber stood a circular platform, just like before, but this time, there were no chairs — only eight looming doors, each identical, their steel frames humming with an energy that made the skin prickle.
In the middle of the platform, there are sigils.
Golden ones.
Clark approached the center. "Shit, this is going to be one hell of a trial, for us to be given a golden sigil if we complete it."
The sigils are enclosed in a glass box, as if making sure that the survivors cannot retrieve it at their will.
Nicole exhaled sharply, her gaze locked onto the sigils. "That means this trial is a high-stake challenge."
Zack's eyes flickered towards the eight metallic doors around them, his jaw tightening. 'There are eight doors, and there are eight of us, which means we could be separated and they will make us enter each door alone.'
Jake tried to process everything. The voice said it is a fear chamber. As far as he know, based from his experience, a fear chamber is a place designed to hold or display objects associated with fear, torture or horror.
Arya narrowed her eyes, stepping closer to the platform. The energy pulsing from the sigils wasn't just for show — it had a purpose. "This isn't just about fear," she murmured. "The system wouldn't make this easy. There has to be a catch."
Clark exhaled sharply, his gaze bouncing between the doors and the box. "If this trial is what I think it is, we're not just walking into a haunted house." He turned to face the group, his expression grim. "This could mess with our heads in ways we're not prepared for."
Nicole gave a slow nod. "If we get separated, we deal with it on our own. No matter what we see, no matter what we hear —" Her voice hardened. "— we remind ourselves that it's not real. Fear is only as powerful as we let it be."
A sudden chime rang through the chamber, sharp and final, like a bell tolling before an execution.
The mechanical voice rang through the speakers in every corner of the room.
[Attention, Survivors.]
[Here are the objectives and rules of the trial.]
[Objectives: Each survivor must confront and overcome their greatest fear in order to exit the chamber.]
[The trial will only end when you acknowledge, face, and ultimately reject the control your fear has over you.]
Zack swallowed hard. Your greatest fear. He already had a sickening feeling about what his would be.
[Rules: Each participant should enter a door alone.]
[There is no timer nor countdown for this trial. You will decide when it ends.]
Zack exhaled slowly, his fingers curling into fists. Fear. That was the theme of this trial. But fear wasn't just some fleeting emotion — it was a parasite, burrowing deep, twisting your mind until you couldn't tell what was real and what wasn't. He had seen it break people before. Hell, he had seen it break him.
What was worse was that this trial had no time limit. No set countdown. That meant the only way out was through, and the only person who could save you is yourself. And if someone couldn't make it —
He clenched his jaw. No. He wasn't going to think about that.
[If all but one survivor successfully escapes, the body of the remaining individual will be transported to the location of the survivors.]
His gut twisted at the implications. That meant they would have to watch if someone failed. If someone couldn't make it out, their unconscious body would be dumped in front of them — a reminder of what was at stake.
[Upon transportation to the location, if they are unable to resist the illusion in a span of 20 minutes, their body will become unresponsive, trapping them in their nightmare indefinitely.]
A cold dread settled in Zack's stomach. So, there's no real safety net. Either you fight your way out, or you're gone. Actually, you're not entirely gone because you will be trapped in a hell, created personally for you. So, there is no other choice and the most scary part is to make the wrong choice.
[The system will maintain the illusion until their physical form deteriorates, resulting in either a vegetative state or death.]
[Any attempt by a teammate to wake them up will be blocked — only the individual inside can break free.]
He glanced at the others, trying to gauge their reactions. Clark stood with his arms crossed, his tall, broad-shouldered frame tense. His usual composed demeanor had cracked — just slightly — as he processed the trial's implications.
Nicole, standing beside him, clenched her fists at her sides. She looked every bit the strategist she was. But Zack noticed the slight tremor in her fingers — an unspoken fear she wouldn't dare voice.
Ellie was trying to keep her breathing steady, but her grip on her sleeve betrayed her nerves. Her lips were pressed into a thin line, as if she were already bracing for the worst.
Mark stood close to her, his usually easygoing expression gone. Jake was silent, his arms tense at his sides. The scar across his jaw twitched as he clenched his teeth, his mind clearly running through every worst-case scenario. Zack had fought alongside him enough to know he wouldn't let his emotions show easily, but even Jake wasn't immune to what was coming.
Arya stood with her arms folded, there was something guarded about the way she stood, as if preparing herself for a battle she wasn't sure she could win.
And then there was Ambrose. He was watching them all. Unlike the others, he didn't seem afraid — he seemed curious of what lies ahead.
Zack thought, 'Could they do this? Could I do this?' His fingers twitched, a phantom pain echoing from a memory he had long since buried.
[Step forward. You may now enter the door designated to you.]
Without warning, the doors began to slide open — revealing nothing but pitch-black voids beyond them. The temperature in the room dropped.
Something appeared on top of the doors.
Their names. Like signaling which door they should enter.
Zack felt his stomach twist. He knew that whatever waited beyond those doors wasn't just an illusion. The system had a way of making everything feel real. Too real.
One by one, they would step through those doors — and none of them knew if they'd all make it back.
The mechanical voice rang out again:
[Face what lies ahead. The trial begins in 3…2…1...]