The silver Knight

The instructor let his gaze drift over the crowd, taking in every face with a slow, deliberate sweep. His voice, calm yet commanding, carried over the tense group. "There are 408 candidates who made it to round two. A remarkable number. Now, follow me. I'll take you to the next challenge."

Without another word, he began to float forward, his movements smooth and unhurried but purposeful. The candidates broke into a run, their breaths coming fast and shallow as they struggled to keep up. The pace wasn't far—500 meters, just a short distance—but the effort seemed monumental. They pushed themselves forward, gasping for air, every step feeling heavier than the last.

At last, the instructor descended, his feet touching the ground with the same grace as before. Around him, the sound of heavy breathing filled the air, punctuated by the occasional ragged sigh of relief.

"Not again," a voice broke out, raw and trembling. A young man, his face pale with exhaustion, was nearly in tears.

"Damn it!" Another voice, this one angrier, echoed the sentiment.

The atmosphere was heavy, almost suffocating. Many of them sank to their knees, trembling. Some cried openly, their despair unmasked by the physical toll. The instructor stood still, his expression unreadable as he surveyed the broken spirits before him, the silence around him fractured only by their ragged breaths and muted sobs.

The instructor raised his hand, his finger pointing toward a single bridge stretched out ahead. It was wide and weathered, the wooden planks coated with frost and slicked with ice, a faint shimmer betraying its treacherous surface. Snow clung to the edges, and the structure swayed ever so gently, a subtle cradle in the biting wind.

"Cross it," he said evenly, his voice betraying neither encouragement nor pity. "Make it to the other side."

Without warning, Number 1 and Number 3 disappeared, their forms vanishing into thin air as if the challenge itself had swallowed them whole. Number 12, the girl who helped Jaxor clean his blood back then, with striking determination, stepped forward. Her movement was swift and unhesitating, her pace quick as she bolted onto the bridge. The loose strands of her blue hair caught the wind, her skirt fluttering as she ran, her body moving with a defiant rhythm against the cold. Her blue figure looked in perfect sync witht he dark blue sky.

Behind her, the others followed in uneven waves. Some ran with tears streaking down their faces, their sobs barely audible over the crunch of snow beneath their feet. Others moved in grim silence, their faces set, their fear buried beneath sheer resolve. The bridge groaned beneath the weight of their footsteps, the sound mingling with the wind as they advanced, one step closer to whatever awaited them on the far side.

Jaxor stepped onto the swaying bridge, his figure slowly fading into the swirling mist, vanishing from Rai's sight. Rai moved closer, standing at the edge where the wooden planks met the frozen ground, peering down into the unseen depths below. Giro, Kaizen, and Raze joined him, their eyes following the same line, gazing downward into the void. The four stood there in silence, each lost in thought.

A faint smile broke across Giro's face, a rare moment of ease, his shoulders relaxing as the tension ebbed away. Among the group, he seemed the most relieved. Rai and Kaizen exchanged quiet sighs, their breaths visible in the cold air, while Raze stood apart, his expression tinged with disappointment.

"No sharks this time. No endless void. What's the point if there's no fun?" Raze muttered, stepping onto the bridge with a casual confidence, the wooden planks creaking faintly under his weight.

"That's exactly what I want, you idiot," Giro shot back, following closely. "Crossing this bridge is going to be easy."

Behind them, Rai and Kaizen moved together, stepping onto the snow-laden wood with deliberate caution. The faint crunch of frost beneath their boots filled the air.

"Stay sharp," Kaizen said, his tone measured. "There's always a trick to these things."

Rai nodded, his gaze steady. "You've got a point," he replied before quickening his pace, overtaking the others with a sudden burst of speed.

Raze, not to be outdone, broke into a run, his movements hurried and unsteady as he surged forward. In minutes, all four were running together, their breaths puffing into the cold air, the rhythm of their steps echoing against the icy expanse of the bridge.

In the distance, a crowd gathered at the far end of the bridge, their figures blocking the narrow span entirely. Their backs were to Rai and his companions, motionless, as if transfixed by something unseen.

Rai's steps slowed as he took in the scene. "What could it be?" The question weighed on his mind, pulling him to a halt. The others stopped too, instinctively sensing the need for caution.

Giro stepped forward, summoning a faint swirl of veil beneath his feet, his plan clear—to rise and see beyond the crowd. But as he tried, the veil dissipated beneath him, and he crashed to the frozen planks with a hard thud.

"Damn!" Giro muttered, scrambling to his feet and wincing as he rubbed his bruised back. "My Veil's shot. Body's done too."

"You're not the only one," Kaizen said, his tone grim. "I can't use mine either."

They exchanged glances, the realization sinking in. Whatever lay ahead, it left them no choice—they would have to approach it the hard way, step by careful step.

Through the shifting crowd, Rai caught a glimpse of gold—glowing faintly, a number etched on it: 2. His eyes widened as he leaned forward for a better view.

"It's Jaxor!" Rai exclaimed, his voice a mix of disbelief and urgency. Giro, already a step back, froze mid-retreat.

"What?" Giro stammered, his tone taut with alarm. "What is he doing?"

There, at the center of the bridge, stood Jaxor, starring at the people in front of him . Their expressions ranged from wary to furious, but none concealed their fear.

"Move it, man! You wanna die here?" one of them shouted, his body suddenly cloaked in the shimmering aura of his Veil.

Jaxor's voice cut through the chaos, low and cold, tinged with an eerie amusement. "Before you reach the other side," he said, his tone hypnotic, "I plan to thin the herd. As many as I want."

"You've asked for it!" barked another, his own Veil flaring to life as he charged forward.

The others followed, a storm of Veil-clad figures lunging toward Jaxor, desperation and fury driving them. But the scene shifted in an instant—one moment, they were attacking; the next, they were falling. Slashed cleanly, their bodies crumpled like broken marionettes, the crimson spray painting the snow.

Jaxor stood unmoved amidst the carnage, his hand slick with blood. He lifted it to his lips, a slow, deliberate motion, his tongue sliding across the crimson streaks.

"You never learn, do you?" he said softly, his words carrying over the silence that followed. His grin, faint but menacing, was the only warmth in the frozen air.

"Unbelievable," Kaizen muttered, his teeth grinding audibly, his voice low with tension. "He killed them all... with just one hand."

Rai cast a quick glance at Kaizen and Giro, sharp and deliberate. It was a glance that spoke volumes, one they immediately understood. Rai had devised a plan in the chaos, even as Jaxor continued his merciless display. There was no need to involve Raze—explaining anything to him would be futile. The three exchanged a final look of understanding, and then they moved.

Jaxor stood ahead, his legs spread wide in a practiced stance, one foot forward, the other braced behind. His bloody hand stretched back, fist clenched, ready.

"Here I come!" Raze roared, his leap marked by a blazing orange veil that flared around his fist. Midair, his punch arced forward, aiming directly for Jaxor.

Jaxor didn't flinch. His own punch met Raze's with a sickening force. The collision lasted a heartbeat—brutal, decisive. Raze's arm buckled under the sheer power, his punch shattered, his body flung back with unrelenting force. He collided with Kaizen, sending them both skidding across the icy bridge.

Kaizen stumbled but recovered swiftly, as if this chaos had been foreseen, perhaps even intended. But Giro wasn't part of the plan, and emotion got the better of him. With a shout, he surged toward Jaxor, reckless and unthinking.

"Giro, no!" Rai's voice rang out, but it was too late.

Jaxor's kick came like a thunderclap. Giro was airborne, flung out over the bridge's edge. Kaizen moved instinctively, every ounce of his remaining Veil expended as he dove. For a moment, they hung suspended on the air, with nothing to step on. Kaizen grabbed Giro's hand in midair, twisting his body with a surge of effort. He hurled Giro back toward the bridge and swung himself forward, his hand latching onto the edge just as his momentum threatened to carry him down.

"You won't escape," came Jaxor's voice, cold and deliberate. He walked forward slowly, savoring the moment, his eyes fixed on Kaizen.

Then came a sudden flash—a brilliant beam of light cutting across his vision. Jaxor staggered, his hands flying up to shield his face. For a fleeting second, his world went dark.

When the light faded, he blinked rapidly, his hand brushing over his hair as he frowned. His fingers adjusted the spikes back into place, a small smile curling at his lips as his eyes found the figures—four of them—running toward the far end of the bridge.

"Brilliant," Jaxor muttered, the word heavy with a grudging respect. He let out a quiet chuckle. "They managed to cross me... The beam." His brow furrowed as he stared into the distance, his smile widening. "I've seen it before... somewhere."

But the memory eluded him.