The more time I spent talking to Zakir and Sylva, the more old memories clawed their way back. Fragments of a life I didn't quite recognize—yet couldn't deny—surfaced like whispers in the dark. Strangely, no matter how much I tried to remember anything else, only memories with them came flooding back—nothing more.
I remembered my first impression of them. Zakir, blade at his hip, duty in his veins—loyalty inherited from a lineage where honor wasn't a choice but a birthright.
As for Sylva, my thoughts slipped through my fingers whenever I tried. Before I could dig deeper, movement overtook the camp with the announcement of the second trial. No hesitation. Everyone prepared to move.
"The instructions are simple," the masked figure said. "You have three days and three nights. Reach the peak. Arrive too late, and you're out."
Straightforward on the surface—a race to the summit. But as I stood there, watching the others ready themselves, unease gnawed at me.
If speed was all that mattered, why give us three days?
My gaze flicked to the mist-shrouded mountains. Sylva's Celeris bloodline, known for speed, would have no trouble sprinting to the top. Three days was too much time for what should have been a simple task.
Arrive too late, consider the trials to be terminated.
It wasn't about speed. It was about survival. About arriving as one of the few who remained.
"Lost in thought again, huh?" Zakir said, blade already drawn, shaking his head. "Seriously, what's wrong with this guy?" he muttered, preparing to sprint.
Sylva, perched on a tree branch, tapped her thigh impatiently. "Come on. We could be halfway up that mountain by now."
I looked at them—strong, skilled, fast—and utterly blind. Even in my dreams, when I fought them, they relied only on instinct, never strategy. They could reach the top before others—but surviving the trials ahead? Not with their eyes closed to the real dangers.
Their stares pressed into me, sensing the change. The old me would've already vanished into the forest.
But that wasn't me anymore.
I watched the first demons disappear into the trees, swallowed by darkness.
"We're not running," I said.
Zakir furrowed his brows. "What… did you just say?"
Sylva scoffed. "You're kidding, right?"
I faced them fully. "Think about it. Why three days? Everyone here can reach the peak easily within that time. What's the point of setting a limit?"
Zakir crossed his arms. "Maybe they're being nice to the weak. Not our problem."
"Even so," Sylva said, "the goal's still the same. Get there before the deadline."
I leaned in. "Can you sprint for three days straight? What happens when you need to rest?"
Zakir blinked. "Huh?"
I lowered my voice, forcing them to focus. "You know how this works. The moment someone's vulnerable, they become a target. The weak aren't eliminated because they're too slow. They're eliminated because they never got the chance to finish."
Their silence told me they understood—but Zakir didn't like it.
"This trial isn't about reaching first," I continued. "It's about reaching at all."
Sylva clicked her tongue. "So what? You want us to fight everyone?"
"Not directly." I glanced at the trees. "If we fight head-on, we waste time. But night will fall, and so will they. The moon will witness their last breath. The sun will rise over their graves."
Zakir's grip tightened on his blade. "You're talking about ambushing."
"No," I corrected. "I'm talking about making them destroy each other."
Their eyes sharpened.
"There are only so many paths to the top. Demons trust their instincts—but instincts can be manipulated. If they think they're under attack, they'll retaliate. And chaos will do the rest."
Sylva's lips curved in a sly grin. Zakir, meanwhile, stood stiff, caught between understanding and revulsion.
"I— I don't think I can do that," Zakir muttered. "Attacking when they're vulnerable? That's... wrong."
Of course. Asking Zakir to betray his honor was like asking him to carve out his own heart.
I smirked, adopting the tone of the person they once knew. "Oh Zakir, the noble demon of darkness, pure as moonlight itself. Don't worry. Sylva will handle it. You and I just sit back and enjoy the show."
Sylva's eyes darkened. "Excuse me?"
"Your speed," I said, memories slipping into place. "As the eldest daughter of the Celeris, you're fast enough to strike and vanish. Hit one group, make it look like another did. The rest... well, we both know how it ends."
Zakir muttered under his breath, "That's dirty."
I laughed without humor. "You tried to kill me the other day. You think you still have honor?"
Zakir turned away, muttering something I didn't catch. Sylva, tapping her thigh, weighed the proposal carefully.
"So we just wait?" Zakir asked.
"No," I said. "We move. We track. When they stop to rest, we make our move. Sylva's part comes at the end."
Sylva stretched, flashing a cocky grin. "Fine. I'll listen—once. But if this backfires, I'm sprinting to the top without you."
I smirked. She wouldn't leave. Not after last night—not after what I accidentally revealed.
We started moving—quiet, steady, stalking the ones ahead.
The forest thickened as we climbed, shadows shifting around us. Hours passed. Then we spotted them—a group of three, panting, resting near a rock cluster.
I nodded at Sylva.
"Let the spectacle begin."
With a grin, she vanished into the trees.
Zakir watched her go, then turned back to me. "You know, Sylva has a point. Why let her take all the credit? The old you would've already bolted after them."
His gaze hardened.
"You really think we didn't notice? Back when the second trial was announced—you were trembling. Don't tell me you forgot how to fight too."
I stayed silent.
Because he was right.
At the moment, I was powerless.
Zakir's hand drifted toward his sword. His eyes narrowed. The heavy air between us twisted, sharp and electric.
Memories of my brother's death flashed before me. My throat tightened.
This can't be happening. Not now.
The only sound that dared to break the silence was the eerie rustling of the wind.