The flash of cameras was relentless. Reporters crowded the room, their voices overlapping, rising above the hum of static microphones and the low whir of drones capturing the scene from every angle.
Eleven stood at the center—bruised, burned, alive.
Rayyaan Sylvani walked up to the mic.
Cluck—Cluck, His footsteps echoed.
He gave the crowd a tired smile, the kind that says we've been through hell.
"Morning," he said, clearing his throat. "We're the eleven. Out of the fifty who went in… we're what's left."
He looked around. Cameras flashed. Reporters leaned in.
"We were supposed to scout the World Tree. Just a week, supposed to be a quick mission."
He clicked his tongue.
"Yeah. That didn't happen."
The silence that followed wasn't empty—it was heavy.
"We'll answer what we can. Let's get this over with."
The reporters froze. No one wanted to speak first.
They looked at one another—quiet exchanges of wide eyes. Cameras still rolling, pens hovering midair.
Then a younger reporter stepped forward, gripping her notepad. She picked up a nearby mic and cleared her throat, voice steadier than she felt.
"What happened inside the World Tree?" she called out from the front.
The group exchanged glances. A silent vote.
Miles Carter took a step forward. His voice didn't rise above the noise, but somehow, everyone heard him.
"The moment we stepped in… we were split apart."
He paused, eyes distant, as if the memory had claws.
"A system appeared in front of us—like some kind of game overlay. It said: 'Individual Trial Initiated.' And then the monsters came."
"They weren't like anything from Earth," Noah Lefebvre added, rubbing a healing scar on his forearm. "And there was no way out. A force field locked us in. Like the tree wanted us there."
"Where are the others?" another reporter yelled. "There were more of you—"
This time, Lukas Schneider answered, jaw clenched. "After the trial… another system triggered. A staircase appeared. Stone. Spiral. Endless. We climbed until our legs gave out. At the top was a land—another world.
He looked straight at the reporter. "We called it Floor One."
"That doesn't answer the question!" another voice snapped. "Where are they?"
The crowd grew quiet. Too quiet.
Callum Hayes looked up, his voice low but steady. "They died," he said. "Most of them… didn't make it past the trial."
He didn't raise his voice. He didn't have to.
Silence fell.
No one asked another question for a long while.
"After the trial, those of us who made it climbed the stairs… and found a world unlike anything Earth's ever seen. They call it Lumenoxis. We just called it Floor One. There's magic there. Entire civilizations. A system of skills. Currency. Monsters beyond anything we'd seen in the trials. Some… are intelligent."
Gasps swept through the crowd. Not from horror. Curiosity. The kind that makes people forget danger.
Cairo Moreira stepped in, voice firm. "Each of us will be working with the governments—establishing facilities. Maybe even schools. We'll share what we know, and train those who want to enter the tree. Raise the survival rate. Even if it's just a little."
After that we will go back inside the—
"And who approved of this little gathering of yours?"
Said by who? None other than a power-hungry politician of a certain country.
All 11 of them looked at each other—confused.
Anika Mehta raised a brow. "Who's this clown?"
Another political figure butted in, "And who do you think you are?"
This information was supposed to be confidential!"
Takeda Ren stepped forward. "The World Tree is far more dangerous than any of you might think… That's why we need to inform every single one. So we can fight it all together."
"Shut up, you ignorant fool!" one of them snapped.
"You're just a soldier deployed to do a task that you failed to do!"
Eun Seulgi cracked her neck. "Failed, you said?"
She clenched her fist. "Do you know how some of us DIED back there?"
Suddenly—soldiers surrounded the three politicians…
Guns pointed directly at the eleven.
Raka Santoso slapped a hand to his face. "Hehe… we're giving info for free after suffering from that hellish place, and this is how we get treated…"
Zeke Alvaran scoffed. "You just want to capitalize on that info so you can leverage some income."
Rayyaan Sylvania raised his hands. "Everyone, calm down."
Miles Carter rolled his eyes. "Shut up for a minute, crocodiles… wait for your turn. The people come first."
All eleven of them chuckled slightly.
"STOP MAKING FUN OF ME!"
One politician snapped.
He lunged forward—grabbed a gun from a soldier nearby.
Their smiles dropped in an instant.
He pointed the gun at them—shaking, furious.
Sigh!, Zeke Alvaran calmly raised his hands to chest level.
"[Locked]."
A floating UI Lock Icon appeared above the soldiers and politicians.
They couldn't move. Frozen.
"It's dangerous to have that here," Lukas Schneider muttered. "There's too many innocent lives."
Rayyan Sylvani reached behind his back—pulled out a knife.
Takeda Ren closed her eyes. "[Hunt]," she whispered.
Eun Seulgi cracked her knuckles again. "[Crystalize]."
Rayyaan murmur, "[Shadow Transfer]."
All three of them disappeared—
Then reappeared from the shadows behind the three politicians.
Rayyaan poited his knife at one.
Ren, her claws extended, starred with her fox eyes at the second.
Seulgi stood behind the third—arms glimmering, fully diamond.
And finally—Noah Lefebvre broke the silence.
"If you want to fight us, do it outside…"
After seeing what the eleven survivors are capable of, the three politicians and their soldiers backed down—
Their teeth grinding in frustration.
Their pride shattered.
Their authority was shaken.
Sigh!
Noah put his finger on his eyes in disbelief.
"This is a mess…"
The crowd was frozen.
Some dropped their microphones.
Others stood still like statues, unsure if they were witnessing a demonstration or the beginning of a war.
Fantasy-like powers, right before their eyes.
Ren stepped forward, "These are the skills we've gained inside the World Tree."
She glanced at the frozen soldiers, then at the cameras.
"We noticed it on our way here, we can only use our skills at around 20%... in terms of output."
Seulgi's diamond arms slowly reverted to flesh.
"If we were at full power?" She glanced at the politicians. "You wouldn't even be able to blink."
Zeke crossed his arms, unimpressed.
"So if you're thinking of testing us again—just remember, this is us holding back."
Rayyaan cracked his neck, eyes still locked on the retreating politicians.
"Let's hope they heard that loud and clear."
He said it in a low tone. Almost like a warning.
A threat.
"Continue."
Then Zeke Alvaran spoke—
"In five years… All we managed was clearing one zone boss. Just one."
His gaze swept the room.
"Out of the 37 left, only 11 of us came back."
No one dared ask the next question.
Because deep down, they already knew the answer.
Zeke stepped forward, his voice steady, cold.
"And that—clearing that one zone boss—was what allowed us to return. To come back here."
He paused.
Letting the words sink in.
"But if we were able to come back… what's stopping something else from crossing over?"
He pointed upward. Or maybe forward. Or somewhere beyond.
"If some other creature—hell, if anything from there makes it through… this place, our world… it won't survive."
"Right now… we're vulnerable. All of us."
Murmurs started again.
People are shifting.
Cameras rolling again—slow, hesitant.
"But…"
He clenched his fist.
"If at least 30% of the current population awakened their skills…
We might have a chance. A way to protect our home."
Silence.
Then gasps.
This wasn't just a press conference anymore.
This was a declaration.
A warning.
And maybe… a final plea.
After the press conference, they didn't wait for applause… or waste time. The eleven remaining elites dispersed across the earth, each carrying the weight of survival…
And the responsibility that came with it.
They weren't just survivors anymore.
They became teachers. Soldiers. Mentors.
From dense urban ruins to mountain camps, they trained volunteers in everything.
Hand to hand combat, knife fighting, gun control, survival tactics.
How to hunt when food runs out.
How to scavenge.
And between drills, they'd whisper truths about the World Tree.
The monsters. The systems. The deaths.
Years passed
The curriculum evolved. From desperate improvisation to structured training.
The goal?
To prepare them all.
Setting up four large training Facilities all across the world.
North Citadel - America
East Stronghold - Russia
West Vault - Europe
South Fortress - Asia
And finally, the day came.
Fifty thousand brave souls, volunteers from every nation stood at the base of the World Tree.
The eleven walked among them, quiet and focused. No fanfare. No grand speeches.
Just a shared look between survivors.
Then they entered.
The Earth itself seemed to tremble. A deep, resonating hum, like something buried beneath the surface… laughing.
The World Tree responded.
Its roots stirred, at the tip of the tree's entrance, a blinding light flared, followed by a number.
50,011
Someone mumbled, "That's everyone… all of them made it in."
There were cheers. Tears. As if Earth had taken its first step into the unknown.
People stared in awe. Cameras rolled. The world watched.
Then the number dropped.
Then—
49,845
The drop was small.
Some thought it was a glitch.
Then—
37,906
The cheers stopped.
A cold breeze ran through the crowd, though there was no wind.
"Wait, what's going on?" a woman clutched her chest, breath shaky.
25,219
"No… no no noo—" a man dropped to his knees, staring at the number."
20,674
Gasps. Whispers. Silence.
All at once.
17,735
15,341
13,648
"Is it a countdown?" someone said.
"Are they dying?" someone else whispered.
10,817
"Stop this! Pull them out! Can't we pull them out!?"
No answer.
And then it stopped—
9,999
No movement.
Just silence.
It was louder than screams.
A child in the crowd asked, "Mom… does that mean the rest are gone?"
She couldn't answer.
Because no one could.
Not yet.
Not anymore.
A collective shiver ran through those watching. Pride became dread.
Days passed.
Some returned—limping, missing limbs, haunted by what they saw. Others stayed behind, climbing higher into the tree's impossible world.
The documentaries that followed were raw. Gritty. Survivors staring into the camera, voice trembling, describing what they faced in the Individual Trial.
Some viewers wept. Some turned off their screens in horror. Others stared in awe.
But everyone understood one thing.
This was no mere expedition.
This was war.
Year 2082
[Sound of a desk being slapped]
"And that's the whole summary of what happened during the first generation of Seekers.
Any questions?"
A student raised his hand.
"What is it, Daiki Inoue?"
Daiki smirked and pointed at Ahrie, who was clearly dozing off mid-lecture.
The professor's gaze sharpened.
He raised his hand, forming a "C" with his fingers, and quietly uttered.
"[Memory Static]."
He walked toward Ahrie and placed his palm gently on the boy's back.
Daiki tried to hold in his laughter.
Ahrie's eyes shot open—but his body wouldn't move.
Two seconds of blank blinking.
"Alright, class. Head to the combat field. Your final assessment will be held there."
Chairs scraped. Students stood. The room shifted into a mix of nerves and chatter.
Daiki strolled over to Ahrie, chuckling.
"You asshole," Ahrie muttered as Daiki helped him up and walked him out of the room.
Professor Kaien stayed behind, looking at his hand.
His knuckles were tight.
His fingers twitching.
That dull pain again.
It was getting worse.
Outside, the two boys walked toward the field.
"So," Daiki asked, "what'd you lose this time?"
"Wait—lemme check," Ahrie replied.
Daiki let go.
Two seconds later, Ahrie tipped sideways and hit the ground.
"Hehe—seems like my body forgot how to balance again," Ahrie said.
"Geez. Prof. Kaien's skill is busted," Daiki said as he helped him up again.
"Right? Forgetting a basic life skill for five minutes… That's brutal."
"What if it made you forget how to breathe?" came a voice behind them.
Both flinched.
"Holy—Naoya, don't sneak up like that," Daiki said.
Naoya smirked and helped support Ahrie too.
The three of them continued walking, but as they neared the training grounds, something felt off…
The air was heavier.
The chatter faded.
And when they reached the gate, they stopped.
Dozens of students were already lined up on the field.
Only—they didn't recognize a single one.
Just rows of strangers in the same academy-issued gear, standing in eerie silence, eyes forward.
Ahrie squinted.
"... Where are we?... these guys… they're not from our class."
Daiki glanced around. "Are they from other academies?"
Before anyone could answer,
A sudden static burst from the speakers ade everyone tense before the announcement came.
"Final Assessment: Commencing. Observe caution."
Daiki's grin vanished
Ahrie blinked.
Naoya's jaw clenched.
This wasn't a class test anymore.
This was something else.
And none of them were ready.