The divine seal etched above the entrance of the stone temple pulsed with faint golden light, its rhythm in tune with Ethan's heart. He stood at the edge of the gathering hall alongside nineteen others—each person chosen, each person changed. The gods called them Awakened, but none yet understood what that truly meant.
An eerie stillness hung in the air. The temple's ceiling, impossibly high and covered in constellations that shifted when no one looked directly at them, hummed with silent authority. It was a place built for something greater than man. They were no longer mere humans. But they weren't gods either.
Not yet.
A gong sounded. Not mechanical, but something deeper—vibrating in their bones. Everyone's heads turned.
From the shadowed archway at the head of the hall, the Billionaire emerged—not dressed in designer suits now, but in ceremonial robes laced with divine symbols, his face blank like a mask. He no longer moved like a man with wealth, but like a man with purpose not his own. A puppet for something far above.
He raised his hand. Silence deepened.
"You stand on the threshold of godhood," he said. "But power is not given freely. It is earned. Proven. Taken."
His voice was not his own. It echoed unnaturally, as if a dozen hidden mouths were speaking through him. The eyes of the Awakened widened, some with awe, others with fear.
"The first trial begins now."
A scroll appeared in his hands—rolled from parchment that shimmered like molten silver. When he unraveled it, glowing symbols lifted into the air, arranging themselves into words above the crowd.
AWAKENED TRIAL – PHASE ONEYou will be divided into ten teams of two.Each team will face another in a combat arena.A match ends when one team is eliminated.Survivors of the winning team will advance.If both teams fall, no one proceeds.No revivals. No mercy.
Murmurs spread through the Awakened like wildfire. Ethan's stomach twisted. A fight to the death? With no revivals? The Werewolf round had been cruel, but this… this was raw survival.
"Is this a joke?" someone barked from the left—a tall woman with a jagged scar running down her neck. "You expect us to kill each other for entertainment?"
The Billionaire's lips twitched.
"No," he said. "The gods expect you to."
That shut everyone up.
The glowing text in the air shifted, and ten pairs of names began to arrange themselves. Ethan's heart thudded in his chest as the light twisted into symbols he barely understood. Then, his name appeared:
TEAM SEVENETHAN MORENO & ALESSIA KRELL
He scanned the crowd. Who—?
A voice behind him: "Looks like we're stuck together."
He turned. A girl around his age, with striking silver eyes and hair the color of ash, stood with arms crossed. She wore simple training clothes, but there was something off about her posture—poised like a predator, coiled and ready.
"I'm Alessia," she said, offering a hand. "Let's try not to die."
Ethan hesitated, then shook it. Her grip was firm.
"Ethan. Guess we're teammates now."
Around them, others were forming loose clusters—some greeting their partners, others staring at the opposing teams in grim silence. Already, alliances were forming… and enemies were being marked.
From above, the Billionaire's voice boomed again.
"Tomorrow, at dawn, the duels begin."
He gestured, and suddenly, a portal opened behind him—showing ten separate arenas, each floating on isolated platforms high above a glowing ocean of stars. The scale was mind-breaking. One was a desert. Another a jungle. One seemed to be entirely made of ice. Others defied description—gravity spiraling in impossible patterns, floating platforms, shifting illusions.
"You will be assigned your battlefield an hour before the match," he said. "You may spend tonight preparing. Or praying."
With that, he turned and walked back into the darkness.
The portal closed.
And the room erupted into noise.
Ethan and Alessia sat near a fountain outside the temple, away from the chaos. The moon—if it was a moon—hung low and pulsed with divine energy. The water glowed faintly, like liquid crystal.
"She's… not playing around, is she?" Ethan muttered.
"'She?'"
"The god pulling his strings. You saw that voice. That wasn't him."
Alessia nodded. "The one I saw… she wore a crown of bones. I think she smiled when I was chosen."
Ethan looked up, eyes narrowed. "You saw her?"
"Only in dreams. But that's how it starts, isn't it? The Awakening." Alessia reached out and trailed her fingers in the water. "I think they watch us all the time now."
Ethan didn't answer. He was too busy replaying the rules in his head.
A fight to the death. Only survivors move on. If both die, no one wins.
He remembered the gorilla. The way it tore through people like paper. He remembered the Werewolf game—the lies, the tension, the fear.
And now this.
They were being whittled down. Pressured. Broken and reforged.
"What's your power?" Alessia asked suddenly.
Ethan glanced at her. "Healing. You?"
"I haven't unlocked mine yet. But I'm fast. Really fast. My reflexes are unnatural."
"Think that's enough?"
She shrugged. "Guess we'll find out."
Ethan stared into the water. His power, Divinacea, was powerful in theory. He could heal wounds, regrow tissue, cure poisons—but only if he could touch the target, and only if he concentrated. In the middle of a life-or-death battle, what good was that?
Unless… he used it defensively. Kept them both alive long enough to outlast the others.
But what if they were paired against a team that didn't hesitate? That attacked instantly?
He clenched his fists. "We can't hold back. We need a strategy. We need to survive."
Alessia gave him a faint smile. "I was hoping you'd say that."
Later that night, alone in his quarters, Ethan sat on the edge of his bed.
He stared at his hands. The ones that could heal others, the ones that still trembled. He thought of everyone he'd seen die so far. Hundreds. And it wasn't over.
Tomorrow, he would fight again. This time, no more social games. No more talking. No escape.
Only blood and survival.
And if he lived—he'd be one step closer to the power he needed to change everything.
To become Chosen.
He closed his eyes.
And prayed—not to the gods, but to himself.