Day 16.
Duke ran.
It wasn't a clean or heroic flight. It was a clumsy, unbalanced dash, torso leaning forward, breaths shattered.
Blood soaked his chest, warm, slipping between torn layers of clothing. Where forearms had once been, only jagged stumps remained, wrapped in makeshift bandages that barely held.
Every step hurt. Every heartbeat reminded him of the white bat's claws tearing through his chest, the wet sensation of something breaking inside.
He laughed—a broken, brief laugh, almost a spasm.
He managed to crawl into a narrow cave, dragging himself more than walking, until darkness swallowed him. He fell against the wall, gasping. His vision flickered.
Then he closed his eyes and focused his ether.
His trait responded.
Active Regeneration.
Duke's trait amplified an already potent Transformer ability. Normally, Transformers healed faster than humans, but this trait let him push it further: by dedicating ether, he could repair injuries that would take a Transformer a week in just a few minutes. But the process demanded focus, precise control, and exacting use of ether—and it hurt.
He had used it before. Cuts, broken bones, internal injuries. Never like this.
Pressure came first. Then heat. Then… pain. A slow, deep pain, as if something were growing forcefully inside him. Flesh reconnecting, nerves seeking nerves, bone forming where none existed.
He clenched his teeth until they cracked. A low growl escaped his throat.
He had been sure it would hurt. Even so, he smiled.
Day 18.
Duke trembled, drenched in cold sweat, jaw rigid, teeth clenched to the limit.
The pain hadn't lessened. It had changed. No longer a constant burst, but something crueler: deep, intermittent, unpredictable stabs. At times, his arms felt like they were immersed in molten metal; at others, unbearable pressure from within, as if his bones were trying to push through skin before they were ready.
Each attempt to concentrate his ether advanced the process—and multiplied the suffering.
Day 19.
Duke flexed his fingers.
The new forearms responded. Not perfect yet, but his. The skin still sensitive, as if not fully belonging to him, but strength had returned. Three days focusing ether. Three sleepless days. Three days savoring each pang.
He stared at his hands with a twisted mix of pride and fascination.
—What an interesting group… —he murmured.
They had been brutal. Efficient. Without unnecessary mercy, but without scruples either.
They had torn his arms off and nearly killed him… and yet, he felt no hatred. On the contrary.
Deep down, he was glad.
Taking the exam with Victoria would have been safe. Predictable. Winning without risk, without surprise. Boring. This group had changed everything. They had made the game more entertaining.
What amused him the most, made him smile that twisted way, was why the attack had worked.
Victoria had prepared everything. But no one had predicted someone would slip in, that someone would have the audacity to strike. The combination of instinct and quick decision-making from the group had broken through her defense—and it entertained him. Victoria's absolute certainty had been shattered by pure intelligence and audacity from others.
A caw sliced through the air.
Duke looked up just in time to see a bracelet fall in front of him. He caught it with a newly regenerated hand. He smirked.
Having lost his right arm, he had lost the bracelet, but his precious tutor was reliable.
Normally, someone in his condition would have been eliminated, but Yume knew exactly what someone like him and his trait were capable of.
The bracelet vibrated.
Incoming message. Event start.
Duke slowly stood, eyes shining with dangerous excitement.
—Perfect —he said. —Let's see how much more they can entertain me.
The cave entrance appeared before them like a dark, wet mouth.
Victoria stepped forward, golden spear in hand; Ryun followed, katana ready.
Every sound echoed off the rock: their steps, water dripping, the faint crunch of shifting stones.
The tunnel spiraled downward. Cracks and grooves lined the walls, marks of the colony's long history. Humidity filled their lungs, mixing with earthy, acrid scents—a sure sign the heart of the anthill was near.
The first intersection appeared quickly. A shadow leapt from a side tunnel. The ant landed, bounced, and lunged ferociously.
Victoria reacted first. Her spear swung in a wide lateral arc, striking the attacker's shoulder and sending it crashing against the wall. Ryun stepped forward, katana high, slicing clean through its head. The creature collapsed, twitching before going still.
They continued, descending into tighter passages. Roofs slanted, forcing them to duck and weave around sharp rocks and remnants of previous battles.
The second encounter was less expected. Three medium-sized ants, wolf-sized, dropped from the ceiling, jaws snapping. Victoria spun, using her spear as a shield, pushing one away. A shell cracked. The second lunged at Ryun. He sidestepped, katana slicing through in one fluid motion. The third attacked Victoria, who blocked with the shaft of her spear, twisting and shoving, forcing it to bite the metal instead of flesh.
—They don't act randomly —Victoria whispered—. Coordinated attacks, ambush patterns.
Ryun nodded, eyes fixed on the next opening.
Here, the strategy for Victoria became clear. Since this was an exam event testing students of all kinds, there were very likely multiple paths tailored to different abilities: some for the stealthiest, others for the most intelligent, and others for those focused on combat. She chosed the last one. Victoria had no trouble choosing a path. In fact, she was an incredredibly versatile Transformer
But with Ryunosuke by her side, it was ridiculous to not go for the last choice.
As they descended, tunnels forked repeatedly. Victoria deduced that the route designed for combat-focused students would likely follow the edge of the mountain, spiraling downward. She chose the narrower route instead, offering better sightlines. Ryun matched her pace, anticipating attacks from above and the sides. Ground vibrations grew stronger. Something enormous was nearby.
Another small group of ants attacked from a lateral tunnel. Victoria and Ryun didn't hesitate. Victoria impaled the first in midair, killing it instantly. Ryun spun, katana cutting a second in a single fluid strike. A third tried to bite Ryun's leg; he countered with a brutal downward stab.
The bodies fell, gasping and twitching, as Victoria adjusted her grip on the spear. Ryun caught his breath, katana gleaming, ready for the next.
The main tunnel dropped steeply, forcing lateral climbs over wet rocks. Every step was calculated. Victoria noticed deep grooves and fresh scratch marks: the colony was reorganizing the terrain.
A sudden vibration warned them of another strike. A medium-sized ant, nearly horse-sized, emerged from a side crevice. Victoria stepped back, spinning her spear to intercept, halting the charge.
Ryun stepped back, trusting her skills.
Victoria did the unexpected: she de-summoned the spear. The creature lunged for her head. She evaded each strike with calm, measured steps, letting it think she was cornered.
When her back finally met the rock wall, the ant, excited and confident, launched a powerful charge. But just at the start, Victoria reacted. With precision and speed, she re-summoned her spear, driving it straight into the ant's mouth. The combination of her strike and the momentum of the charge drove the blade to the brain. The creature fell instantly.
Victoria exhaled, calm.
—They are strong —she said—, but predictable if you can read them.
Ryun nodded, keeping pace.
They advanced through a labyrinth of descending tunnels, taking the combat-focused path. Small obstacles appeared: partial collapses, narrow gaps. She used her spear to stabilize loose rocks, while Ryun covered the flanks with precise katana movements, ready for any encounter.
In one corridor, Victoria noticed a strange pattern. After defeating a small group of large ants, the others didn't scatter. Instead, they reorganized instantly, movements perfectly ordered. Every attack, every lateral shift, seemed guided.
A side tunnel shivered briefly. A muffled echo suggested a massive body moving. Not visible, yet the force through the floor and air spoke of something colossal.
"Something is directing them… not the queen we know," Victoria thought. Each rapid regroup, each adjusted formation, seemed to come from an unseen, enormous entity.
She kept the idea to herself: a smaller-than-queen, agile creature, issuing partial orders. A kind of "princess" commanding units without showing itself. Every swift reaction, every altered formation, seemed to stem from it. She couldn't confirm, but she had to consider it.
Through the spiral descent, natural crystal lighting provided enough visibility. Victoria used reflections and shadows to spot hidden threats. Her mind calculated distances, anticipated ambushes, and compared patterns with her hypothesis of the "ant princess" and the colony's hierarchy.
Though silent about her thoughts, Victoria did not ignore them. Each theory was stored for the right moment. The existence of the princess, its strategic mobility, and the anthill's organization would be key when they reached the core.
Finally, after twists, climbs, and descents, Victoria and Ryun reached a chamber leading directly to the center. Every step had been deliberate, every movement measured. Their path had been efficient, safe, and intelligently planned—combining observation, prediction, and anticipation. Now, in front of the final chamber, Victoria could put all her theories to the test without compromising either of them.