The trail they followed was cold, days old, the faint impressions of feet lost beneath the leafy carpet of the forest floor. Yet something drove them on, an instinctive pull, a lingering hope. Zeke walked at the front, cloak stained and torn, his mind turning over the battle, the truce, the weight of responsibility pressing deeper into his shoulders with every step. Behind him came Kaito and Rian, silent but alert, and the rest of the group, tightly packed and cautious.
It wasn't until midmorning, when the sun pierced the canopy in golden shafts, that Rian paused near a tree.
"Wait... what's that?" he said, pointing to the bark.
Zeke doubled back, eyes narrowing. Carved into the rough surface, partially obscured by moss and bark, was the unmistakable outline of a bird. Not any bird, but a stylized hawk, wings extended, fierce and proud.
"That symbol..." Kaito stepped closer, brushing his fingers over the carving. "It's Tala's. It matches the tattoo on her collarbone. She told me once it was her clan's crest."
For a moment, they were all still.
Zeke exhaled slowly. "She left it for us to find."
Hope surged, sudden and burning.
"She's alive," Kaito said, fists clenched. "She must be nearby."
Rian's jaw tightened. "Or trying to lead us away from danger. Either way, we keep going. Eyes open."
As they advanced, they began spotting more birds, one etched into a fallen log, another scratched faintly into a stone. A trail. Tala's trail.
But the closer they drew, the more uneasy Zeke became. The air shifted, more stagnant, tense, like the forest was holding its breath.
And then, at the crest of a low rise, they saw it.
A camp sprawled below them in a hollow: rough tents, watchfires, weapons glinting. Several students, tied up and bloodied, knelt in the dirt. Among them, Tala.
She was bruised, one eye swollen shut, arms bound behind her back. Her once-clean robes were ripped and stained with dried blood. Despite everything, she sat upright, breathing, her chin raised defiantly.
Zeke felt the breath leave him. A slow, terrible fury bloomed in his chest.
Kaito's voice was a snarl. "Tala..."
"She's alive," Rian murmured. "But barely."
Zeke's eyes scanned the camp. There were more of them than before, executioners, watching from the shadows, weapons at the ready. At the center of it all stood a figure cloaked in dark grey, a hood thrown back to reveal a young woman with coal-black hair and striking eyes. She radiated calm, but beneath that calm was coiled danger.
The moment the group stepped forward into the clearing, all eyes turned.
Tala saw them and her head shook violently, panic flashed in her one good eye. She mouthed something. Leave.
Too late.
The black-haired woman raised her hand. "You must be the ones from the northern sector," she said, voice smooth like flowing ink. "The ones who broke the formation and survived the first wave."
Zeke didn't speak yet. He stared.
"You've caused quite a stir," the woman continued, taking a step forward. The executioners didn't move, but their eyes tracked every breath. "I heard about what happened. Zeke, was it? I assume you're the one they all rallied behind."
"Let her go," Kaito said, voice trembling with rage. "Now."
"Or we WILL kill you," Rian added, calmly drawing his blade.
The woman tilted her head. "You could try. But you'd lose. And more students would die. Including your friend here."
Zeke's hand tightened around his sword hilt.
Then the woman lifted her hand again not to attack, but to signal quiet.
"You're mistaken if you think we're your enemy," she said softly. "We're not here to fight you. Not anymore."
Zeke blinked. "What?"
The woman's eyes glittered. "We want a truce."
Kaito's expression twisted. "A truce? After what you did to her?"
The leader gave a grim smile. "When we woke up here, they told us we had to kill ten students each to pass. No choice. No context. Just kill or be killed. We... we panicked. Some of us tried to run. Others tried to fight it. But in the end..."
She looked back at her camp. A grizzled older man was sharpening a blade, his eyes empty.
"This man here has two children. He needs to survive for them. That woman lost her brother to a past trial. And me?"
She met Zeke's gaze evenly.
"My entire family was wiped out by a Grandmaster when I was thirteen. I'm not here to play hero. I'm here to grow strong enough to kill the monster who did it. And the academy promised power through blood."
Zeke's eyes narrowed. "So you killed students."
"I didn't want to," she snapped, anger flickering. "None of us did. But after the first few... something broke. It was easier to act like we liked it. To pretend we were made for this."
She looked to Tala.
"She fought us. Hard. We didn't want to kill her. We couldn't... literally."
Zeke turned back to the group.
Rian muttered, "They're not lying. I've seen this look before. War changes people like this. Makes monsters."
Zeke's jaw worked, conflicted. He turned to his group, motioning them closer.
They gathered around.
Kaito spoke first. "She's my sister. I want to kill every last one of them. But... she's alive. That gives them a bit of hope."
Rian nodded. "They could've slaughtered those tied-up students. But they didn't. There's still a line they're not crossing."
Zeke closed his eyes briefly.
"We're not saviors," he said. "We're just surviving. But maybe that's enough to change something."
He turned back to the shadow leader.
"No more killing. Not students. Not unless we're attacked. That's our condition."
She raised a brow. "And if we refuse?"
"Then we end this now."
A long silence followed.
Then the woman laughed softly. "You've got guts. Good. That'll make this more interesting."
She stepped forward and cut the bindings on Tala's wrists herself.
Tala fell, but Zeke and Kaito were already there to catch her.
The leader turned back. "We agree. No more killing. For now. But this ends the way we want. The academy turned us into killers. Now they have to reap the consequences."
Zeke helped Tala up, her weight slumping into his arms. Kaito looked like he was barely holding himself together.
Zeke met the woman's eyes. "This barrier... I think it's because of this." Zeke looked around at the students following him. "Because I started forming a group."
That drew murmurs from the shadows. Even the leader raised an eyebrow.
"Interesting," she said. "So the academy fears unity. That's a useful weakness."
Zeke turned back to the others, steady and cold.
"We're going to destroy this trial." He turned back to the woman. "Without the loss of anymore students"
The woman laughed again, longer this time. "Very good, Zeke. That's a fine plan. But if it fails, if your pretty little rebellion crumbles, I'll kill all your friends myself."
Zeke stared at her, silent.
Then he said, "You're welcome to try."
Night fell heavy over the joint camp. Fires burned low. Two armies, once enemies now sat uneasily in the same clearing. There were no jokes, no songs. Just the quiet hum of possibility.
And in that space, under starlight, something began to shift.
...
Headmaster stood, arms crossed, eyes narrowing as he watched the footage of Zeke and the executioners talking.
"They're still hesitating. The executioners were meant to eliminate the weak. Not barter truces."
Professor Lira glanced sideways at him, her expression calm but sharp.
"Maybe they hesitated because they still have a conscience. They're students, not soldiers."
The headmaster looked at her and chuckled.
"That's precisely the point. We need soldiers. The military wanted recruits, and this was the most efficient way to find them, those who act without hesitation. Those who kill when ordered. That's what this trial is about for them."
Lira's eyes narrowed, realization dawning behind the stormy gray of her irises.
"So that's what this all was. For the executioners this is not a trial... but a filter."
Whispers passed through the gathered professors, some shaking their heads in quiet dismay.
"This is a bit much. You're forcing children to become psychopaths."
"Turning students into murderers to appease the military… truly how far we have fallen?"
The headmasters voice cut through the room like steel on glass.
"We are at war. Humanity is hanging by a thread. If we don't produce warriors capable of surviving what's coming, then we're already dead. You want to coddle them? Then watch them burn when the enemy comes."
Silence fell over the room.
Lira didn't argue. But her jaw was tight. Her silence was not agreement, only patience.
The game wasn't over.
But now, at last, the players understood the rules.
And they were ready to break them.