This was not training.This was not an exam.
This was selection.
Clive clenched his fist.
He saw the black core in Glenn's hand. He saw the dried blood on the arms and faces of that group. He saw an empty space among them. One position unfilled. One person who did not return.
He asked himself whether it was worth it.
The answer came without hesitation.
No.
He looked at the three people behind him.
Ted.Dorde.Zorilla.
Their lives mattered more.
The decision was not heroic. Not grand. But it aligned with his principles. And in the Nest, principles were the only thing the system could not take away.
"Next group," Raimon said.
There was no encouragement in his tone. No added pressure. The sentence was spoken as if calling the next item on a list.
Clive moved.
Ted followed. Dorde and Zorilla behind them. No signals were needed. No exchanged looks. The agreement had already been made the moment they saw one person fail to return.
They did not enter to prove anything.
They entered to come out alive.
The stone door slid open.
An old stench greeted them.
The smell of dried blood. The smell of rotting flesh. The smell of something that had died but had not completely left a system that refused to forget anything.
The corridor was the same as yesterday.
And not the same at all.
The formation formed almost automatically.
Zorilla took the rear. Her shoulders were low. Her sword slightly angled to the side, ready to stab from tight angles without wide swings.
Ted stayed in the middle. Not the strongest. Not the biggest. But his eyes moved the fastest. His head kept turning, reading gaps, reading movement, reading irregularities.
Clive on the left. Dorde on the right.
Not symmetrical. But covering one another.
They moved more tightly than yesterday.
Shorter steps. More consistent spacing. No one advanced too far. No one lagged behind. No breath was wasted.
"Two on the left," Ted said.
Clive stepped back half a step. Dorde moved forward one. A small movement. Almost invisible. But enough.
The first monster fell without a loud scream.
Clive's sword struck its neck. Not clean. But effective. He pulled his blade back before the body fully collapsed and disrupted the next movement.
"One," Clive said.
The second monster fell not far from Clive's position. Dorde beheaded it with a short slash.
"One," Dorde said.
"Total two," Ted said.
He recorded it.
Not with a book.Not with a board.With his voice.
They moved deeper.
And that was when they saw it.
Remains.
Monster corpses piled up. Some were still warm. Others had already stiffened. Blood flowed thinly, forming small trails along the stone floor, following natural cracks like little rivers that knew exactly where to go.
The number of monsters ahead of them was not the same as yesterday.
They were eating.
Some tore into flesh greedily. Others fought over it, biting and clawing one another. Some fought each other not to survive, but for the best pieces of the carcasses.
Dorde stopped a fraction of a second too long.
"These are not old remains," he muttered.
"Still fresh," Zorilla replied quietly.
Ted nodded. "And they are not leaving."
Clive observed.
The monsters did not seem to be thinning.
There were more of them.
As if death attracted them. As if every corpse was an invitation.
"This corridor is a feeding ground," Clive said.
"Or a gathering point," Ted added.
Dorde frowned. "Or both."
"What is certain is that they are feasting," Zorilla said.
They did not stay long.
Their movement was enough to draw attention.
One head turned. Then two. Then more.
A short shriek sounded. Not an attack cry. More like a call.
The answer came from the darkness.
Footsteps. Many.
Their formation tightened.
They fought.
More aggressive than yesterday. Faster slashes. Harder pushes. But still controlled. No one chased too far. No one took the bait.
Ted kept signaling.
"Right pressure.""Left fall back half.""One slipped through the rear."
Zorilla stabbed without looking. Precise. Short. Effective.
There were more monsters. Braver. They did not hesitate to enter close range. They no longer waited.
They charged.
Small wounds began to accumulate.
Claws on arms. Bites on calves. Scratches on shoulders.
Breathing grew heavy.
"Twenty eight," Ted shouted.
Then he stopped.
He could not keep counting.
Too many.
Split focus meant death.
"Count individually," Clive said.
They nodded.
The battle blurred.
There was no time. No numbers. Only movement and reaction.
And in the middle of the chaos, something changed.
The monsters suddenly shifted sideways.
Not retreating.Not attacking.
Making way.
Clive felt it first. His instincts tightened. The hair on the back of his neck stood up.
"Stop," he said.
They did not halt completely. But the formation tightened.
And they saw it.
The small creature.
It sat atop the carcass of a bear like monster. A carcass that now looked hollow. Chest torn open. No core remained there.
It was eating.
It tore meat from the bear monster with small teeth. Blood ran down its chin. It chewed slowly, its eyes fixed on Clive and the others without blinking.
It smiled.
The other monsters stepped aside. Making space.
The small creature stood.
Wiped its mouth with the back of its hand.
Then it spoke.
A language they did not recognize. The tone rose and fell. Not random. Structured.
Clive felt something cold press against his chest.
This was not an ordinary monster.
This was not an animal.
This was a leader.
"Tight formation," he said quietly.
Ted swallowed. "That is the one from yesterday."
"And it is watching us," Zorilla replied.
The small creature stepped forward.
Slow.Confident.
Its smile did not fade.
Their formation did not collapse.
But it no longer felt solid.
Clive could feel it in the breaths that were no longer synchronized. In the fractions of a second where sword swings no longer met at ideal points. In the way Ted stopped giving signals for two full heartbeats.
That was long.
Too long.
"Counts," Clive said without turning.
"Fifteen," Clive said."Twelve," Ted said."Fourteen," Dorde said."Seventeen," Zorilla said.
"We have not reached the target," Ted said. His voice was cut short by breath.
Zorilla slashed from behind, severing the leg of a four legged creature trying to break through the right side. Blood sprayed low, hot, sticky against her boots.
"Focus," she said. "The count can come later. Stay alive first."
Dorde did not answer. He was too busy absorbing impacts from the front. The monsters no longer came alone. They came in pairs. Three at once.
One attacked.One rammed.One bit from below.
This was not yesterday's pattern.
Clive understood now.
This was not a horde.
This was a unit.
The small creature continued approaching.
It stopped a few meters from their formation. Close enough to see their eyes. Far enough to avoid immediate attack.
It looked at them one by one.
Not like an animal.
Like someone choosing.
The creature raised its hand. Its fingers were long and thin, nails smeared with dried blood. It opened its mouth and produced sound again.
Not a scream.
A tone.
Short. Broken. Layered.
It pointed.
Not at Clive.
At Ted.
And at that moment, Clive knew.
They were being studied.
Clive felt a chill crawl over his skin.
The monsters around them moved.
Not attacking.
They stepped back half a pace. Opened space. Shifted positions. Some of the injured were pulled backward by others. Smaller ones crawled up the walls. Larger ones lowered their bodies.
Their formation changed.
"This is wrong," Ted muttered. "They are following its instructions."
The small creature smiled.
Instantly, three monsters broke through from the left.
Not toward Clive.Not Dorde.Not Zorilla.
Ted.
"Center!" Clive shouted.
Too late.
The attack was not from a single direction. One monster leaped high, forcing Ted to raise his sword. Another swept his legs from the side. The third came low, jaws open.
Zorilla slammed in from behind. Her shoulder knocked Ted out of the bite's path. Dorde cut the monster's jaw before teeth met flesh.
Ted fell. Rolled. Blood flowed from his arm.
The formation broke for one second.
One second that threatened all their lives.
The monsters surged.
"Reform!" Clive shouted. "Half step back. Dorde left."
They moved, but no longer cleanly.
Heavy breathing. Ground slick with blood. Corpses piled and became obstacles.
The small creature did not join the attack.
It watched.
Its head tilted every time Clive gave an order. Every time Ted moved a moment too late. Every time Zorilla had to cover two gaps at once.
As if taking notes.
"It is not an ordinary monster," Zorilla said. "It is using strategy."
Clive knew.
And he knew one more thing.
Their old strategy no longer applied.
"Clive," Ted said. "I cannot count anymore."
Clive looked around.
They had not reached the target.
And now every monster they killed only gave the small creature more time to understand them.
He made a decision.
"Withdraw."
Zorilla turned sharply. "If we pull back now—"
"We live."
"Coreforge—"
"To hell with Coreforge."
Clive raised his voice. "Full defensive formation. We are getting out."
The decision felt like defeat.
They retreated slowly. Cutting down only what blocked the path. No chasing. No counting.
The monsters followed.
Patiently.
The small creature walked behind them. It did not attack. It gave no further commands.
It already had what it wanted.
As they neared the end of the corridor, the creature stopped.
It picked up a piece of bone from the ground. Still wet.
It bit into it. Then threw it forward.
The bone stopped right at Clive's feet.
The small creature slowly dragged a finger across its own throat.
A gesture that needed no translation.
Then it vanished into the darkness.
The other monsters withdrew as well. Clean. Orderly.
As if the lesson was over.
They exited.
Bleeding. Gasping. Alive.