CHAPTER 21: LOSING TIME
John pressed a hand against his side, feeling the warmth of blood seeping through the cloth. Each step made his nerves scream in pain, his body threatening to collapse, but each time he forced his body upright. The storm continued raging on, drowning out everything except the rampage of the beast as it howled in uncontrolled rage.
He staggered through the ruins, every step sending a sharp flare of pain through his body. The storm pressed down heavy, the rain soaking his clothes, but he kept moving until he found a half-collapsed chamber tucked beneath a leaning arch. It was dark, sheltered from the worst of the rain, and quiet enough that he could finally take a breather.
He stepped into the chamber, eyes sweeping for a place to rest. After a few searching glances, his gaze settled on the far corner, and he began dragging his battered body toward it. Just as he was about to let his back slide against the wall, he remembered an arrow was still lodged in his back.
He let out a long, exhausted sigh, then suddenly chuckled under his breath.
"Karma got me real quick," he muttered.
His hand reached for the arrow shaft. "Well… time to feel what Malric felt."
Curling his fingers around it, he drew in a steady breath. For a moment, he just stayed there, frozen, the thought pressing in: 'damn, this is scary.'
He exhaled one final time. "Ah, fuck it."
With a sharp motion, he snapped the shaft, and pain exploded through him, tearing a raw scream from his throat. "Aaaahhhhhh!"
After a short while of agony, he gritted his teeth and forced a series of steady, long breaths to calm himself. Once the pain dulled enough to bear, his thoughts began circling what to do next. But before he could settle on a plan, faint footsteps echoed through the chamber.
His body tensed instantly. His instinct flared as he shifted into a combat stance, his sword positioned at his side. The steps grew closer, slow and cautious, until a shadowy outline emerged in the dim light. Without hesitation, he drew his blade—the scrapping of steel against the scabbard ringing out as the sword cleared its sheath.
What emerged was a boy. His eyes were squeezed shut as John's blade pressed against his throat, both arms raised high in surrender. His clothes hung in tatters, his body and face smeared with mud and soot. Dark brown hair clung to his skin, rainwater dripping down in uneven streams along the strands.
A trembling plea broke from his lips.
"P… p… please, don't k… kill me."
John's gaze locked on the boy, unblinking, the blade unmoving at his throat. The chamber's silence was suffocating, broken only by the drip of rainwater sliding from the boy's hair onto the stone floor. His chest rose and fell in quick, shallow bursts, arms trembling above his head.
For a long moment, he kept his eyes shut tight, as if the darkness behind his lids could shield him from the steel at his neck. Then, with a shuddering breath, his lashes lifted. Fear flickered in the brown of his eyes, meeting the cold glint in John's.
The boy kept trembling, shoulders quaking as the storm howled through the broken stone around them. He swallowed hard, the sound contrasting against the quiet of the room, then forced himself to speak.
"P… please," he stammered, voice thin and uneven. "I don't want to die."
John finally spoke, his voice was low, steady, the blade still firm against the boy's throat.
"Well… that depends on how you answer my question."
The boy's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. His arms trembled above his head, but he gave a slow, hesitant nod. Rainwater dripped from his hair, tracing muddy streaks down his face.
John leaned in, his voice a blade sharper than the steel at the boy's throat.
"Are you alone?"
The boy's lips trembled. "Y-yes… I'm alone."
John's eyes narrowed, the sword unmoving.
"What about your group?"
"I… I don't know," the boy stammered. "I haven't met them since the beginning of the trial."
Silence pressed down, heavy as the rain hammering the stone walls. Finally, John spoke.
"How did you survive this long… alone?"
The boy swallowed, his throat brushing against the edge of steel.
"I've been relying on traps… mostly."
John's grip tightened. His voice was low, dangerous.
"ok I think that is enough. Now give me one reason why I shouldn't kill you now and save myself the trouble of hunting for points."
The boy's mind spun, panic clawing at him. Then his gaze flicked to the blood-soaking John's side. His voice steadied, barely.
"B… because you're hurt. I can help."
A dry, humorless chuckle escaped John.
"Help? And what—stab me in the back once I turn around? Easier to finish you off and take my points."
The boy shook his head furiously, arms trembling.
"No! Wait, I—"
A low growl rolled through the chamber, cutting him off. The boy froze, eyes wide. John's head snapped toward the entrance, blade shifting away from the boy's throat.
The growl deepened, reverberating through the stone like thunder in a cavern. Shadows writhed across the walls as the creature forced its way inside, each step shaking the chamber. Its massive frame blotted out the storm behind it, a living wall of muscle and menace. Four arms clawed at the air, talons scraping sparks from the stone. Its face was a nightmare of flesh and hunger—eyes burning in the dark, a mouth crammed with jagged teeth that gleamed as it snarled.
John shoved the boy aside, raising his sword despite the fire in his wound.
"Stay back."
The monster lunged. Steel met claw with a thunderous crack, sparks flying as the chamber shook. John's blade carved arcs of silver through the dark, each strike precise, brutal. The beast's talons raked stone, snarling as it pressed forward.
Blood slicked John's side, weakening his stance. His breath came ragged, but his eyes burned with defiance. He pivoted, parried, and drove the edge into the beast's shoulder. The creature roared, the sound rattling the walls.
John staggered, pain tearing wider with every movement. His sword never faltered, but his strength was fading. Then—
"Let me help!" the boy cried, scrambling to his feet.
John's eyes flicked to him, hesitation flashing. Trust was a luxury he couldn't afford. But the beast pressed harder, claws hammering down. He gritted his teeth.
"Fine. Move when I tell you."
The boy nodded, trembling but determined.
John feinted left, drawing the monster's attention, his blade slashing high to keep its eyes locked on him. "Now!" he barked.
The boy darted in low, clutching his short sword. With a desperate shout, he drove it into the beast's exposed throat. The creature convulsed, a guttural roar choking into silence as it collapsed, shaking the chamber one last time before lying still.
John dropped to one knee, grimacing, blood soaking his side and back. The boy collapsed beside him, chest heaving, sweat streaking his face. For a long moment, only the storm outside filled the silence.
Finally, the boy spoke, voice shaky but steady.
"…My name's Adam by the way… just in case you were wondering."
John's gaze lingered on him, then he gave a curt nod.
"… John."
Another pause. John's voice was rough, edged with exhaustion.
"How many points do you have now… after that kill?"
Adam swallowed, eyes flicking to the floor.
"…Enough to survive this trial shit at least… you?"
John didn't answer. He turned away, dragging himself toward the corner, the weight of silence pressing between them. Adam gave a weak, awkward smile.
"Haha… not enough, huh."
John ignored him, tearing a strip of cloth from his tunic. He tried to wrap it around his side, but his hands faltered as the wound was too far back for him to reach. His jaw clenched as he struggled, breath hissing through his teeth.
Adam watched, hesitant, then stepped forward.
"…Here. Let me help."
John's eyes snapped up, cold and wary. For a long moment he said nothing, the storm outside filling the silence. Finally, with a reluctant exhale, he lowered the cloth.
"Ok. But if you try anything… I'll wring your neck."
Adam swallowed hard, the sound loud in the quiet chamber. He knelt beside John, hands trembling as he pressed the cloth against the wound and tied it tight. John winced, a low groan caught in his throat, but he didn't push him away.
When it was done, both of them sagged back against the wall. John grimaced, sweat streaking his face, while Elias sat beside him, chest rising and falling as he tried to steady his breath.
The silence stretched, heavy and unyielding. Adam shifted, glancing at John, then back at the floor.
"So… uh… how did you end up with that nasty wound on your back?"
John didn't answer. His eyes closed, head leaning against the wall.
Adam tried again, voice thinner this time.
"Not in the mood to talk, ha… I get it. By the way, it is insanely cold her—"
John's silence was a wall, immovable. Elias's words faltered and died. He rubbed his hands together nervously, the quiet pressing harder with every second.
Then thunder cracked outside, sharp and sudden, rattling the chamber. Elias flinched, then let out a shaky laugh.
"Fun fact… lightning strikes a specific tree not far from here. Like, abnormally so. I just happened to notice, hard not to notice actually, it is a pretty big tree, and it was… fascinating."
John's eyes flicked toward him, expression unreadable. Then he sighed.
"Do you ever stop?"
Adam scratched his head sheepishly while giving a nervous smile.
"Okay… I'll shut up now."
The chamber fell back into silence, the storm outside their only companion.
***
Meanwhile, deep within the Obsidian Covenant's inner sanctum, a ring of hologram screens flickered to life. Stormlight bled across their surfaces, distorted echoes of the trial space flashing in jagged bursts of lightning. Cloaked figures stood before them, half-masked and unmoving, their shadows stretching long across the polished obsidian floor.
On the raised platform at the center stood Lord Roan, his presence commanding, his gaze fixed unflinchingly on the shifting images. Beside him stood One and Bill, their faces hidden beneath the Covenant's veils.
Lord Roan's voice cut through the silence, deep and commanding.
"You stand beside me because your assigned groups show the greatest potential." His gaze shifted toward One, eyes narrowing like a blade. "Though one of them still hasn't left their naivety, blind to how this trial is meant to unfold. It seems you have failed to instill in them the true ways of our Covenant."
One lowered his head beneath Roan's gaze, voice steady but subdued.
"My apologies, I have not been able to focus on them… as I was occupied with more urgent matters."
A faint smile tugged at Lord Roan's lips, cold and deliberate.
"Hm. Word of your recent mission has reached me. An astounding success, they say. You cut down a man who had already stepped into the sixth stage of the Path of Power… while you yourself remain at the fifth. That is no small feat. Remarkable."
Bill's fist clenched at his side, knuckles whitening beneath the cloak. His jaw tightened, though he said nothing. The stormlight from the hologram screens fractured across his mask, betraying the tension he tried to hide.
"But still," Lord Roan intoned, his voice cutting through the chamber, "these children are the new blood of our Covenant. From now on, I want your full attention on them."
"Understood," One replied, bowing his head.
Roan's gaze returned to the hologram, his eyes narrowing as he focused on Daren's group. A small smile crept across his lips.
"I see you have raised your group well, Bill."
Bill forced a laugh, low and strained.
"Ha… I am only doing my duty, my lord."
Roan's smile faded into a dismissive hum.
"Whatever you say." He lingered in silence for a moment, the storm echoing through the sanctum. Then his voice hardened.
"This has gone on long enough now. End the trial, twelve hours from now."
Bill's fist clenched at his side, knuckles whitening beneath the cloak. His jaw tightened, though he said nothing. The stormlight from the hologram screens fractured across his mask, betraying the tension he tried to hide.
When Lord Roan vanished, Bill turned sharply, ready to start a fight with One—only to find the space beside him already empty. His teeth ground together, rage simmering beneath the surface.
"Just wait for your turn… all of you who think you're above me. I'll show you."
He clenched his fists, forcing his voice steady, his ambition bleeding through every word.
"The Covenant will not overlook me. I'll carve my place higher than any of you, no matter the cost."
He exhaled slowly, forcing the rage back down, then turned toward the half-masked figures stationed at the monitoring consoles. Their eyes glowed faintly in the stormlight reflected from the hologram screens. Bill's gaze locked on one image in particular—John, wounded and weary, slumped against the chamber wall.
A crooked smile spread across Bill's face.
"Ha… let's see how you deal with this, you little shit."
His voice rose, sharp and commanding.
"Cut down the time to Twelve hours."
Every head turned toward him. The half‑masked figures gave a single, silent nod of affirmation. Then, all at once, the bracelets began to chime. The sound spread through the sanctum and beyond, a cold, metallic chorus echoing across the trial zones. Each tone was sharp, deliberate—an announcement none could ignore.