The bell rang before sunrise.
It wasn't the normal quarry bell.
That one dragged people out of sleep like punishment.
This bell was different—shorter, sharper, and rare. It cut through the settlement like a blade through cloth. For a moment, even the air felt startled.
Kairav opened his eyes immediately.
No groaning. No delay.
Around him, bodies shifted. Men who usually moved slowly now sat up with sudden tension, as if instinct recognized the sound before thought could catch up.
Reassignment.
He rose and tightened the wraps around his palms. His hands still ached, but the pain was background now—an old debt, already accepted. He stepped outside as others gathered in the thin cold light.
Whispers moved like insects.
"Selection bell…"
"Who did they call?"
"Not me. Not me."
The settlement looked the same, but the people didn't. Fear sharpened their faces. Hope appeared in the wrong places—like sickness.
Rivan was near the wall, half-hidden in shadow as always. His eyes met Kairav's, and he nodded once—no smile, no comfort.
Only confirmation.
Kairav walked to the center square. A small group had already formed there—six people in total, including himself. Some looked confused. Others looked proud, as if being chosen meant worth.
It didn't.
It meant risk.
A figure arrived without hurry: the observer from yesterday. Clean clothing. Calm posture. Authority that didn't need armor. Two armed escorts followed him, faces blank.
The observer glanced across the six.
His eyes paused on Kairav for half a second longer than the others.
"Come," he said.
That was all.
No explanation. No ceremony.
The group followed.
They passed beyond the settlement's outer edge—past the boundary where work ended and real danger began. Gravel crunched underfoot. The road narrowed into a path of broken stone and dry weeds. Morning mist clung to the ground like a low, waiting breath.
After several minutes, the land changed.
The earth became darker. The rocks showed strange straight cracks, like someone had sliced the ground with a ruler. Symbols appeared—faint, worn, but sharp in pattern. Geometry that felt wrong to the eyes.
As if the world itself was being measured.
Then Kairav saw it.
A gate.
Not a wooden gate. Not a fortress entrance.
This was stone—ancient, tall, and impossibly smooth, like it had been carved from one piece. Two pillars rose into fog. Between them was empty air… yet the emptiness shimmered, bending light.
A doorway into something else.
The observer stopped before it.
The six selected workers gathered behind him, breathing shallowly.
"This," the observer said, "is where endurance ends."
Silence followed.
Then he added, almost casually, "And where worth begins."
One of the selected—a tall man with desperate pride—stepped forward. "What is this place?" he demanded. "We were promised—"
The observer turned his head slightly.
Promised?
The word sounded foolish here.
"You were not promised," he said. "You were filtered."
The tall man flinched as if struck.
Kairav's eyes remained fixed on the gate.
His instincts whispered a warning he couldn't fully name. The kind of warning that came before storms or betrayal. The air felt too still. Even the insects had stopped.
A faint shimmer appeared before Kairav's vision.
[Trial Phase Updated]
Selection Protocol: Initiated
The system's blue light was steady at first.
Then—just for a blink—its lines distorted, flickering like broken glass.
A second message appeared and vanished almost instantly.
[ERROR: Final Law Reference…]
[ACCESS DENIED]
Kairav's breath caught.
Not because of fear.
Because he was certain the others hadn't seen it.
No one reacted. No one blinked.
The tall man was still fuming. The others were staring at the gate with dread.
Kairav's eyes narrowed, mind sharpening around one thought.
Why me?
The observer looked forward, expression unchanged… but Kairav felt, for the first time, that the man wasn't only watching the group.
He was watching the system itself.
The observer raised his hand. A small token hung between his fingers—metallic and dark, etched with the same geometry as the gate. He pressed it into a carved slot at the pillar's base.
The gate pulsed.
The air between the pillars thickened.
Then the emptiness opened.
Not like a door swinging. Like reality stepping aside.
A cold breath spilled out—dry, ancient, and hungry.
One of the selected women stepped back instinctively. "What… is inside?"
The observer answered without emotion. "Judgment."
Kairav stepped forward.
Not first. Not last.
Just steady.
They crossed the threshold.
The world changed.
Sound softened, as if swallowed by cloth. Colors dulled. The sky above turned gray and heavy. The ground beneath became pale stone, cracked with endless circular patterns, like a giant mandala shattered and rebuilt imperfectly.
A trial field.
The kind of place designed not for life—but for measurement.
The observer's voice carried even here. "Your task is simple."
He pointed forward.
Far ahead, broken pillars formed a path through ruins. Beyond them, shadows moved—not fully seen, but sensed.
"You will walk through," he said. "And you will reach the other end."
The tall man scoffed. "That's it?"
The observer's eyes remained calm. "That is the mercy version."
He let the words sink in, then added one more line—quiet and lethal.
"Rule one: panic attracts."
The selected group stilled.
"Rule two," the observer continued, "running feeds the Gate."
The woman swallowed. "Feeds it… how?"
The observer didn't answer directly. "And rule three," he said, "if you choose to break others to survive—do not expect the Gate to forget."
The meaning was sharp enough to cut.
The group began walking.
Kairav walked too, senses sharp.
Then he felt it.
Not footsteps. Not breathing.
Something pulling.
Like invisible threads tugging at his chest.
He looked down instinctively.
For a moment, he saw faint lines around him—thin, shimmering threads rising from the ground, attached to each person like delicate strings.
Karma.
Consequences made visible.
The others didn't notice. They continued forward, blind.
But Kairav saw the threads… and he saw something else.
In the ruins ahead, darkness shifted.
A shape unfolded like smoke given bones.
Its body was thin and wrong, stretched too long. Its head lowered like an animal sniffing blood. Where its mouth should be, symbols rotated—runes turning like teeth.
It leaned toward the nearest candidate.
And then—
It bit the air.
Not flesh.
The candidate gasped, stumbling, hands clutching his chest as if something had been ripped from inside him. His face went pale instantly, eyes unfocused with sudden dread.
The creature lifted its head slowly.
Between its rune-mouth, glowing threads snapped and vanished—devoured.
Kairav understood.
This thing didn't eat bodies.
It ate the weight of a person.
It ate karma.
The system shimmered.
[Threat Detected]
Karma Eater — Class: Devourer
The selected group froze too late.
The tall man drew a crude knife and shouted, "Kill it!"
He rushed forward.
The Karma Eater turned its head.
For the first time, it looked at him.
And the tall man's confident anger broke into pure fear in an instant—as if the creature had whispered every regret he'd ever buried.
His legs slowed.
His hands shook.
His blade dipped.
The Karma Eater moved like a shadow sliding across stone, closing the distance with no sound.
Kairav stepped in.
He didn't scream.
He didn't panic.
He drew his sword—his simple blade, worn but real—and cut across the air between the creature and the tall man.
The slash didn't strike flesh.
It struck the pull.
For a heartbeat, Kairav saw the threads clearer—like tightened strings around the tall man's soul.
His blade passed through—
—and the threads snapped.
Not destroyed. Severed.
The Karma Eater recoiled slightly, rune-mouth twisting as if tasting emptiness.
Kairav's eyes narrowed.
So it could be resisted.
Not by strength.
By interrupting the consequence.
Behind the creature, the ruins seemed to darken, as if more shadows were waking.
The system pulsed again, colder than before.
[Selection Rule Active]
Those who break… will feed the Gate.
Kairav tightened his grip.
He had survived the quarry.
But this?
This wasn't labor.
This was a courtroom.
And the monsters were hunger with a verdict.
The tall man stumbled back, trembling. The woman's breath came sharp and fast—dangerously close to panic.
"Don't run," Kairav said, low and controlled.
His voice didn't comfort.
It commanded.
Then the darkness behind the first Karma Eater split.
A second silhouette rose—larger, slower, heavier.
Its rune-mouth rotated once, and the air itself shuddered.
Kairav breathed out, steady.
Then he spoke quietly—more to himself than anyone else.
"Mercy is a reward."
The creature moved.
"And survival," Kairav whispered, blade lifting, "is earned."