The Corridor of Death
The air inside Himikaya Academy didn't just feel heavy; it felt suffocating, like a physical weight pressing against the lungs. It wasn't the humidity. It was the frantic, jagged mana of thousands of students crammed into the grand hall. This wasn't just another mind-numbing exam. This was the slaughterhouse—the qualifiers for the National Battle Royale.
Rio trudged through the corridor, his sneakers squeaking rhythmically against the polished floor. Hands shoved deep into his pockets, bag slung over one shoulder like an afterthought. His eyes were a map of red veins, the price of a brain-rotting, all-night manga marathon.
"Rio! Stop right there, you lazy sack of—!"
Rio stopped. He didn't turn, just tilted his head. Ellen was standing by the lockers, his uniform so tight and pressed it looked like armor. Faint, orange sparks of fire aura licked his skin—a clear sign the guy was 100% wired for a fight.
Rio let out a yawn that threatened to unhinge his jaw. "Morning, Ellen... You're loud. Is it even legal to be this awake?"
"Awake?!" Ellen stepped into Rio's personal space, the heat from his aura radiating off his chest. "I heard you're anchored to Moon and Gery. Don't you dare drag them into the dirt. If you get kicked out before I get a chance to crush you in the finals, I'll kill you myself."
"Yeah, yeah..." Rio muttered, his voice trailing off as he blinked slowly. "Who'd want to fail anyway? Repeating a grade sounds like a lot of walking. Too much work."
The Gathering of Team C
At the team's bench, the vibe was even worse. Gery looked like he was about to vomit. He was polishing his combat gloves with a frantic, obsessive motion—over and over, until the leather practically glowed.
"Rio! Finally!" Gery's voice cracked. "I've seen the list. There are seniors—actual monsters—looking at us like we're appetizers just because the 'Bottom-Ranker' is on our roster. You have to be serious, man. For once!"
"Breathe, Gery," a voice cut through the panic. It was cold, deep, and steady.
Moon was slumped in the corner, his eyes glued to a small, weathered spellbook. He gave Rio a look that was impossible to read—flat, clinical, and dangerously calm. "Rio has his own rhythm. Just don't let the Hexa-Life system shatter your spine before the first whistle."
"Moon-sama is right," Gery said, instantly stiffening his posture. "That system... it's a meat grinder."
Rio dropped onto the bench between them, his head falling back against the wall. "Hexa-Life, huh? Six crystals. One screw-up, and we lose a life?"
Moon nodded, his eyes never leaving the page. "Precisely. And the executioner just arrived."
Arena Atmosphere
A magical trumpet blast ripped through the air, vibrating in Rio's very marrow. The stadium erupted. Thousands of voices merged into a singular, deafening roar, chanting names like they were summoning gods.
High above, shielded by the shimmer of anti-magic glass in the VVIP balcony, Rio felt it. A gaze. Sharp, focused, and heavier than the mana in the room.
Lylya... Rio thought, his eyes flickering upward for a split second.
The massive screen in the center of the arena hummed to life. A glowing, crimson "6" appeared next to Team C.
"Let's move," Moon said, snapping his book shut with a definitive thud. "Time to see if we're actually 'trash' or if we're the ones doing the cleaning."
Rio stood up, his spine popping like a string of firecrackers. "Hoooammm... alright. Let's get this over with. I've got a nap with my name on it."
T/L: Rio is basically me every Monday morning. Let the games begin!
A/N Corner (Author's Jealousy Edition):Yes, I'm salty.This sleepy idiot strolls into a death corridor, ignores life, and yet the world-famous princess is watching him like he's the last crumb of sanity in the universe. Meanwhile, I get ramen, cold coffee, and existential dread.
If he keeps acting like he wants to be a ghost, it's because the author wants to shake him awake and take his place.
Sincerely,a very salty, very single author.