The rain still did not stop.
It fell without rhythm or mercy, as if the sky itself had chosen this night to empty everything it had left. The sound of water striking leaves, branches, and muddy ground layered upon one another, forming a dull, endless echo that followed the convoy as it moved deeper into the forest.
The trees grew thicker with every passing minute. Their twisted trunks stood close together, their crowns blocking what little light remained in the sky. Under the dim glow of the armored vehicles, their shadows stretched long and warped, crawling across the wet ground like silent watchers.
Inside the vehicle, no one spoke.
Not because there was nothing to say—but because everyone understood the weight of this mission. Words would only weaken the tension holding them together.
Ash sat in silence.
His body was still, his breathing steady, his emotionless eyes fixed on the empty space in front of him. He was not looking at anything in particular. There was no destination in his gaze, no clear thought reflected within it.
If someone asked him what he was thinking about, he would not have an answer.
Or perhaps, there were too many answers to choose from.
Hearth sat beside him, occasionally glancing in his direction. After a while, seeing Ash's quiet stillness, he mistook it for unease.
"You shouldn't worry too much, young man," Hearth said at last, breaking the silence.
His voice was calm, worn smooth by years of repetition.
"Even if you do, it won't change anything."
He paused briefly before continuing.
"After all, you might die in there. And our job will simply be to eliminate whatever monsters crawl out."
What an effective comfort.
Ash mocked the words silently.
There was no anger in his reaction—only a quiet acknowledgment of reality. Hearth was not being cruel.
He was being honest.
And honesty, in this world, was often colder than cruelty.
According to records observed and calculated over the last five hundred years—
Out of one hundred Chosen, only ten became Openers.The remaining ninety died.
Some survived longer than others. Some died the moment they entered. Some disappeared without leaving behind a trace.
There were rare cases where more than ten survived, but those stories were anomalies—exceptions whispered about, never expected.
The probability was painfully low.
Ash knew this.
Everyone chosen knew this.
And yet, none of them had the right to refuse.
Ash was not sure if he would survive The Door.
"You know," Hearth continued, his gaze shifting toward the rain-streaked window,
"All Chosen are between eighteen and twenty years old. The youngest ones. The ones with the most potential."
"But everything changes the moment they step into a Door."
The reflection in the glass showed a man much older than his voice suggested. His eyes were distant, as if they were no longer focused on the forest outside—but on something far deeper.
"When I was chosen, I was eighteen as well," Hearth said quietly.
"Just like you."
"When I learned I would enter a Door, I wasn't calm. I was excited. I thought that once I entered a Place, I would gain power—real power. Enough to change my life. Enough to walk back into the world with people looking at me differently."
His lips curved faintly—not a smile, but something close to regret.
"But I was also afraid," he said.
"Because I didn't know what waited on the other side. I didn't know what kind of hell I would have to crawl through."
"I won't tell you the details of my journey," Hearth added. "But in the end, I survived. That's why I'm sitting here next to you."
He turned fully toward Ash and looked straight into his eyes.
"Once you enter a Place, stay calm. Analyze the terrain. Understand the situation you're in. Don't panic. Don't act on impulse."
"Fear clouds judgment," Hearth said. "And poor judgment gets you killed."
"These are the only words of advice I can give you."
After that, Hearth fell silent.
Ash did not respond.
He did not nod.
He did not speak.
But he heard every word.
The atmosphere inside the vehicle returned to its original state—heavy, quiet, and suffocating.
Outside, the convoy continued deeper into the forest. The lights of New Age City had vanished long ago, swallowed by distance and darkness.
There was nothing left behind them—only the sound of rain and the faint hum of engines cutting through the night.
At some point, Hearth slowly raised his hand.
"Stop here."
The order traveled quickly through the convoy.
After another ten minutes of careful movement, the vehicles slowed to a halt.
Ash stepped out of the armored vehicle.
His boots sank slightly into the damp ground, cold moisture seeping through the soles. The air here felt different—heavier, sharper, as if it pressed directly against his skin.
They had arrived at an open clearing.
The forest surrounding it was dark and silent—unnaturally so.No animal cries.No insects.
Not even the sound of wind.
It was as if the forest itself was holding its breath.
Eagle Team moved immediately. Their formation spread outward with mechanical precision, weapons raised, eyes scanning every angle. Each movement was practiced, refined through countless missions.
A perfect defensive perimeter.
Hearth stepped forward.
"This is the predicted location where The Door will appear."
Ash calmly observed the surroundings, searching for anything out of place.
This was the first time he would witness the appearance of a Door with his own eyes.
Minutes passed.
Nothing happened.
The rain continued to fall. The forest remained still.
For a moment, Ash wondered if there had been a mistake.
Then—
The air distorted.
It was subtle at first, like heat rising from the ground. But it was wrong—unnatural.
The rain intensified, yet the droplets that passed through the distorted space slowed down, bending and stretching before vanishing completely.
Smoke began to rise from the center of the clearing.
Thin at first.Then thicker.
It gathered slowly, drawn together by an unseen force, shaping itself into something familiar.
A door.
From the base, to the frame, to the top.
When the shape was complete, the smoke faded away, revealing a white wooden door—one meter wide and two-point-one meters tall.
It stood alone in the clearing.
From the outside, it looked ordinary. Plain. Almost harmless.
But Ash felt it immediately.
A sharp sense of danger crawled up his spine the moment his eyes settled on it.
There was no doubt anymore.
The Door had appeared.
Suddenly, a burning sensation spread across the back of Ash's right hand.
At first, there was nothing.
Then scorch marks slowly formed, carving themselves into his skin, shaping the symbol of a key.
"There's no doubt now," Hearth said quietly.
"You are The Chosen."
Moments later, a pitch-black key fully manifested on the back of Ash's hand, its length matching the width of his palm.
Ash stared at the mark.
Then he looked at the white door before him.
He had prepared himself for this moment.
But preparation did not lessen its weight.
It was hard to believe that after eighteen years of hardship and quiet suffering, everything now came down to a single step.
Life.Death.
Decided by whether he walked through that door.
Was this the world's answer to his defiance?
'Fine.', he thought.
'If that's the case—then come.'
The emptiness in his eyes hardened into resolve.
He was dressed entirely in black from head to toe. His gloves concealed the mark. There was nothing special about his appearance—and that was intentional.
Ash walked forward.
With every step closer to the door, his breathing steadied. The pressure in his chest faded.
Fear had no place here.
He had already been chosen.
Whether he lived or died no longer mattered.
No.
That wasn't true.
He would live.
For his mother's wish.For his promise to stand against a world that had given him nothing.
He would survive.
At some point, Hearth stood beside him.
"Open the door," he said.
"And step inside, boy."
Ash raised his right hand and touched the Door.
The key mark burned violently, resonating with the surface beneath his palm.
The pain was sharp—but brief.
When the heat faded, he understood.
The moment had arrived.
He pushed the door open.
Beyond it was darkness.
Endless.
Silent.
Without hesitation, Ash opened the door fully and took his first step forward.
"I wish you survival in the Place," Hearth said behind him.
Ash did not look back.
There was nothing left behind him worth turning toward.
As his body crossed the threshold, the door slowly closed.
And the last words he heard before it shut completely were—
"Be careful of the things behind the door."