Before the announcement of Team 20's elimination—
Taro and Kaela stood side by side. Water swirled in orbit around Kaela, while flame sparked from the corners of Taro's mouth. From the distance, two figures approached—short, sturdy, clad in thick metal armor with helmets that obscured most of their faces.
"So, you're dwarves, huh?" Taro muttered, cracking his knuckles.
Kaela narrowed her eyes. "Let's finish this quickly."
With a burst of flame, Taro launched forward, his feet erupting beneath him. His fist ignited in full flame as he drove it straight toward one of the dwarves' helmets. The punch landed with a loud crack—but the dwarf didn't even flinch.
"You'll need more than that to scratch us," the dwarf grunted, conjuring a metal hammer in his hand. With a roar, he brought it down—Taro barely dodged as it shattered the ground beneath.
"What the hell is with his strength?" Taro muttered, casting a quick glance at Kaela.
She danced around the second dwarf effortlessly, launching precise water blasts from every angle. "Taro, you good?"
"Yeah," he replied, panting lightly. "Trying not to waste too much mana. We've got a whole week to survive, after all."
"Same here. Haven't used my Trait yet. These guys are durable as hell."
Just as he was about to respond, a voice echoed from the sky.
"Team 20 has been eliminated. Remaining teams: 19."
Taro blinked. "Already? People are losing this fast?"
He turned to Kaela—her expression was stricken.
"Hey," he said cautiously. "You okay?"
Kaela's voice trembled. "I-Isn't that Rin's team?"
Before Taro could respond, the dwarves charged again. But something shifted—a strange breeze rolled through, both icy and scorching. The dwarves halted.
"What… is that?" one murmured.
Taro's tone turned serious. "If that really was Rin's team… then something went very wrong."
He vanished in a blur of fire, reappearing behind the dwarf. A burning punch slammed into the dwarf's neck.
"Playtime's over. I need to find out what happened to Rin," he said, as the dwarf collapsed into unconsciousness. A protective magic bubble formed around him.
Kaela's eyes narrowed at her opponent. She dodged a swing, placed a palm against his shoulder, and whispered, "The doctors might hate me for this, but they'll manage."
The dwarf's body froze from the shoulder outward.
"Absolute Zero."
His body turned to solid ice, another bubble forming around him.
"You sure you didn't kill him?" Taro asked.
Kaela shook her head. "He's alive. Let's move. The instructors are probably already checking on Rin."
They sprinted toward the battlefield.
As they ran, Taro's expression darkened. "I thought Rin could handle himself."
Kaela's voice was quiet. "Maybe he did… and it still wasn't enough."
---
Meanwhile—
Rin sat with his back against a tree, breathing hard. Blood soaked the earth.
"What the hell were those abilities…?" he muttered. "Manipulating fate? What kind of power is that?"
Jin dropped beside him, equally exhausted. "Yeah… no way we could've won. We couldn't even cast. That blood domain—'Blood Banquet'—was a living nightmare."
Rin gave a hollow laugh. "I thought we'd survive at least three days. Turns out, we didn't even last an hour."
Ella's voice echoed faintly in his mind. "Don't let this defeat sink you. Every ability has a weakness. Every Trait has a counter. Keep going."
Rin closed his eyes. Alright… I'll remember that.
Jin turned to him. "Why do you seem so calm? You hesitated to surrender… but now you're not even angry. You don't seem sad either. You really wanted to win, didn't you?"
Rin's voice dropped, barely audible. "It's not that I didn't want to win… it's that I never have. Not once. And when you keep losing, over and over again, you stop caring. People laugh at you, and after a while, you stop reacting. You wake up one day and realize you've been stuck in the same place for years. Nothing's changed. Nothing ever will."
"And you start to wonder if maybe you missed the moment your life was supposed to begin. Like it came and went while you were busy doubting yourself."
He laughed bitterly. "You ever watch everyone else moving forward while you're standing still, pretending it's fine? Like they've got it all figured out, and you're the only one left behind? People like to tell you, 'It'll get better.' But it doesn't. It just... doesn't."
"You clap for their progress, laugh at their jokes, nod like you're okay—and no one sees you sinking."
His voice faltered. "I hate this part of me. I get all these ideas, all this energy... and then it's like a switch flips in my head, and I tell myself, 'Why bother?' So, I don't. I let it go. I give up. Again and again. The cycle never ends. You make excuses, push things to tomorrow. But tomorrow comes, and it's no different. You think you'll try harder next time, but there's no next time. You just... survive."
"You ever stare at your alarm in the morning, knowing it's time to get up—but you just... can't? Not because you're tired, but because the day feels too heavy before it even starts."
"And some mornings, I look in the mirror and I don't even recognize who's staring back. Just this blank version of me, going through the motions."
"And the worst part is, no one ever notices the effort it takes just to exist—to get out of bed, to smile when you don't feel like it, to act normal when you're falling apart inside."
"You smile when someone makes a joke, even laugh a little. Not because it's funny—but because that's what you're supposed to do, right?"
"But you know... there's a small—a really small—part of me that just doesn't accept defeat. It keeps whispering, don't give in. Why didn't you do better? Why didn't you think harder? Why are you so weak? It doesn't shut up. And I don't have an answer. I never do. But that voice never shuts up."
"Sometimes I wish I could cut that voice out of my head—just silence it for one damn day. But it's mine. It sounds like me."
Jin's lips parted slightly, as if to speak—but he didn't. He just watched, eyes dimmed with quiet understanding.
Rin's hands clenched into fists at his sides, the weight of every failure pressing down on him. "And it's like you start to believe maybe it's you. Maybe you're just broken, not worth fixing. Maybe you're just the kind of person who's meant to fade into the background. Like it wouldn't even matter if you were gone. The world would just keep spinning without you."
"And after a while, you start doing it too—looking through yourself like there's nothing worth seeing."
He turned his gaze to the sky, the redness of it feeling suffocating. "I don't even know why I'm saying this. Maybe because you're actually here. You're listening. That's more than anyone's ever done. Most people just look right through me, like I'm invisible. Like I don't even matter enough to be noticed."
A lump formed in his throat. He swallowed, but it didn't help. Saying it out loud didn't feel brave—it felt like exposing the darkest part of himself to someone who could easily crush it with a word. And yet... Jin didn't laugh. He didn't turn away. He didn't walk off.
Instead, Jin remained still. Present. And in that stillness, something grounding. Like he wasn't offering a solution—just letting Rin be heard.
For the first time in years, Rin felt something stir beneath the numbness. Maybe it was shame. Maybe it was fear. But it was also something else. A faint spark. Hope? It was too fragile to name, but it was there. And for a second... it felt like enough.
He didn't suddenly believe he mattered—but for once, he didn't believe he was worthless either. That shift—small and quiet—felt like the first step out of a cage he hadn't realized he'd been living in.
Jin scratched the back of his head awkwardly. "Well… I get it. But then, why hesitate on surrendering if you felt that way?"
Rin's expression stiffened, the vulnerability flickering and quickly retreating. "Because I wanted to fight Taro. I wanted to beat the crap out of him for everything he did at the dungeon. He never even apologized. It's like he doesn't even see what he's done to me."
Jin chuckled softly, though there was no humor in it. "You know, I thought you were just some arrogant prick who wanted to win everything."
Rin scoffed, bitterness creeping into his voice. "You're the arrogant one here. Always pretending like it's all so easy for you."
Jin looked away for a second. "It's not easy," he muttered, barely loud enough to hear. "I just… don't let myself stop to think about it."
The words hung in the air, sharp, but there was something raw about the honesty that followed. Neither of them said anything for a long moment. There was a weight in the silence, like two people trapped in the same emptiness, unsure of how to move forward but too tired to let go of the fight.
Finally, Jin spoke, his voice low. "We'll get another shot, right? Next time, we'll be ready."
Rin's gaze dropped to the ground, as if the weight of his own words made his legs heavy. "Yeah. Next time... maybe I won't lose so easily. Maybe I'll actually make it count."
But the uncertainty lingered in his chest, a gnawing feeling that no matter how many 'next times' came, he'd always be standing in the same place—waiting for something to change, but never knowing how.
---
To be continued...