The silver Knight

Behind them loomed the remnants of the maze temple, a crumbling monument to what had transpired within its walls. The structure groaned under its own weight, ancient stones shifting uneasily as if the temple itself were exhaling a final breath.

And then, piece by piece, it began to collapse. Sections of the roof caved in first, sending shards of stone tumbling down. Walls gave way, one by one, with deafening cracks. Dust rose in thick clouds, shrouding the ruins as parts of the temple fell to the left, others to the right, like the staggered collapse of an empire long past its prime.

For a few moments, the sound was unbearable, a cacophony of destruction, and then, as quickly as it had begun, silence settled once more. What remained was a ruin—a testament to a battle hard-fought and the fragility of even the greatest edifices.

Rai lay sprawled on the icy ground, one arm flung over his eyes, the other cushioning his head. His shirt, torn and bloodstained, was crudely wrapped around the wound on his shoulder. Nearby, the weapon he had taken from his opponent rested in the snow, a grim trophy of his survival.

A shadow passed over him, and instinct jolted him upright like a coiled spring released. His eyes darted open, sharp and ready, only to soften when he saw her—Number 12.

She stood there, her blue hair falling in loose waves to her waist, catching the faint glimmer of the cold light. Her gaze swept over the others, scattered and still, lost in the uneasy sleep of the battle-weary. For a moment, Rai relaxed, relieved by her presence. Yet something in her posture, the way she looked at the scene before her, carried an air of quiet vigilance.

"Hey! What happened to him?" she asked sharply, her voice cutting through the cold air as she pointed toward Kaizen.

Rai glanced at Kaizen, sprawled in the snow like a fallen giant. "No idea," he replied with a shrug, his tone oddly casual. "Looks like a boulder got the better of him in some fight." But there was no mistaking the quiet confidence in his voice—Kaizen would pull through. He always did.

She took in the sight of them—four battered bodies, bruised and broken. Without a word, she raised her hands, her movements deliberate. Her fingers formed a triangle, the gesture strange and ritualistic.

Rai frowned, leaning back instinctively. "Hey, hey, what are you doing?" he demanded, unease creeping into his voice.

A sudden wave of water surged over him, drenching him to the bone. Rai staggered to his feet, shaking his head furiously, instincts kicking in. He swung a punch at her, convinced for a split second that it was another fight.

She caught his fist effortlessly, her other arm folding back like she was humoring a child. "Understood?" she asked, her lips curling into a knowing smile.

Rai froze, his eyes widening as realization dawned. "My arm," he muttered, flexing it in disbelief. "It's healed!" His gaze darted back to her, a mix of astonishment and curiosity burning in his eyes. "So, what's your veil?"

"It's healing," she said, her voice calm but certain. "It looks like water, yes, but it isn't. It's a healing potion." Her gaze swept over Raze and Giro, her eyes assessing. They didn't seem too badly off, she thought—just the usual bruises and scrapes.

Then, without hesitation, she stepped in front of Kaizen. Her hands stretched toward him, her movements deliberate, almost commanding. She closed her eyes, her face tightening with focus. Anger flickered across her expression, subtle but unmistakable. "Your friend," she muttered, her voice low and cutting, "is he an idiot? He could have died!"

A soft blue glow spread from her hands, washing over Kaizen in a wave of light and energy, the air thick with the strange, otherworldly substance.

Rai leaned back slightly, smirking. "Not just him," he said dryly. "Everyone around me is an idiot."

To his side, unexpectedly, Giro and Raze erupted in unison, their faces contorted with exaggerated outrage. Mouths wide, teeth sharpening unnaturally, their eyes glowed a vivid red as they shouted in perfect chorus, "What was that?!"

"So, you weren't sleeping after all?" Rai asked, tilting his head toward Giro and Raze, a faint smirk playing on his lips.

Giro stepped forward with an exaggerated flourish, his usual swagger in full effect. "Hey there, pretty girl!" he said, positioning himself near her with the confidence of a seasoned showman. "You're here again! Must be fate, don't you think?"

She sighed deeply, her hand rising to cover her face as she looked down at the ground. "What's with you guys?" she murmured, the exasperation in her tone clear.

Their exchange was interrupted by a looming shadow, vast and sudden, as if a great bird had passed overhead. They all turned instinctively, their eyes widening as they saw Kaizen standing tall behind the girl. Though his wounds were mostly healed, a deep cut along his gut still lingered, a reminder of the battle they'd survived.

Kaizen's gaze softened as he extended his hand toward her. "Hey, girl. Thanks," he said, his voice steady but warm.

She took his hand, her grip firm but careful. "I'm Hydrorina," she replied, her name carrying a quiet strength, as if it held meaning far beyond the moment.

"Hey!" Giro barked, his voice cutting through the air like an unexpected gunshot. His eyes locked on Kaizen, a mix of irritation and curiosity flickering in them.

Kaizen turned slowly, his expression unreadable, save for the faintest tilt of his brow. "Hmm?" he asked, his voice low, as if weighed down by exhaustion.

"Oh, nothing," Giro replied quickly, waving a hand dismissively, but his grin betrayed his true intent. He dropped flat onto the ground, head hanging, arms splayed dramatically. "Rina-chan! Heal me! My body's broken—look at this tragic state I'm in!"

Hydrorina, unfazed, sighed sharply. "Idiot," she muttered under her breath before delivering a swift kick to the back of his head. Giro yelped, but before he could protest, her hands glowed faintly, the telltale shimmer of her healing ability weaving through him. "There," she said dryly. "Wish granted."

The mood shifted as Rai leaned forward, his tone turning serious. "By the way, Kaizen—what happened?"

Kaizen met Rai's gaze, his voice measured but firm. "I fought Number 3. It was a draw."

"What?" Raze burst out, his voice almost a growl. He stepped closer, disbelief etched into his face. "You fought that creepy guy? I wanted to fight him!"

Giro pushed himself upright, his expression suddenly alive with curiosity, his usual bravado momentarily replaced by genuine astonishment. "A draw?" he repeated, wide-eyed. "How the hell did you manage that? Number 3 looks like the kind of guy who'd take someone out with one move!"

Kaizen's voice was calm but carried the weight of his words. "He was strong," he admitted, his gaze fixed on the floating instructor above them. "But he said he's the weakest where he's from. Some dark place outside our world. He's here for a license—apparently, there's a war, and he needs it to fight."

At the word war, a ripple of unease spread through the group. Even Hydrorina's usual composure faltered as she looked up at the instructor. The others followed her gaze, waiting.

The instructor, his silhouette suspended in the air like some phantom judge, spoke, his voice cutting through the stillness. "Congratulations!" he declared, his tone both sharp and oddly celebratory. "You've made it this far. Fifty-six candidates remain."

With a swift motion, he tossed something high into the void above them. A loud crack echoed as the object burst, scattering glowing balloons into the air, their faint light casting shifting patterns on the faces below. It was his version of applause—a stark, unsettling display in the shadowy expanse.

"Now," he continued, his voice turning serious, "it's time for the final round. This will determine your Veil Level." His eyes scanned the group, their expressions a mixture of resolve and apprehension. "Your task is simple. You must ascend from this void by any means necessary. At the summit, you will be guided to a place where your Veil Level will be measured. If your level surpasses 100, you pass. You will receive your license."

This time, there were no murmurs. The candidates standing there were not the uncertain or the untested; they were the ones who had made it this far, hardened by the trials behind them. They stood tall, a quiet confidence radiating from each of them. For these few, the license wasn't a possibility—it was an inevitability.

"The round begins now!" The instructor's voice rang out, sharp and direct. "The duration? As long as you wish. Your only task is to reach the top." Without further ceremony, he rose into the void, his figure fading into the shadows above.

All eyes shifted to Jaxor. Number 2 in rank, though to many, he was the unspoken Number 1. There was no official Number 1 or Number 3 in this examination, making Jaxor the strongest by default. His veil remained an enigma, a mystery that only deepened his air of invincibility.