The Gravity Villain's Silent Return

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Chapter 14: The Survival Exam

The digital display in my Trial Room flickered as the numbers shifted: 14/17 → 12/17, confirming that Kai had successfully incapacitated his opponents—or rather, victims. Calling them opponents felt generous. With no more than two moves each, Kai had dismantled them effortlessly. His dominance in combat, paired with the aura of confidence he exuded, cemented his position as someone untouchable. The remaining contestants instinctively kept their distance.

From the looks of it, Kai probably wouldn't have to fight again, I concluded as I continued observing him. However, I forced my gaze away, reminding myself to remain low-key and avoid displaying too much intellect.

I scanned the room, my senses heightened. Unlike Kai, I hadn't yet asserted dominance, which meant I was still a target. My eyes locked onto one of the remaining competitors—a lithe girl wielding serrated daggers. She moved subtly, her eyes darting as though searching for a weaker target. But when our gazes met, her intent shifted. Without warning, she surged forward.

Her approach was fluid and nearly silent, but the gleam of her daggers under the arena's artificial lights betrayed her position. She lunged, her blade slicing through the air just inches from my chest. I stepped back, my pulse steady despite the close call.

"You're fast, I guess," I remarked, sidestepping her follow-up strike with ease. "But predictable."

Frustration flickered across her face, her brows furrowing. She adjusted her movements, becoming faster and less telegraphed. Her strikes came in a whirlwind of precision, aiming to overwhelm me. But I had already analyzed her rhythm. When she lunged again, I pivoted to her left, deflecting her wrist with my forearm, sending her blade off course. Before she could recover, I drove my elbow into her stomach with enough force to knock the air from her lungs.

She staggered, but hesitation wasn't an option. Grabbing her wrist, I twisted her arm behind her back and swept her legs out from under her. She hit the ground hard. In one fluid motion, I squatted applying pressure to a nerve on her neck, to render her unconscious.

The display above updated: 11/17.

Standing up, I glanced toward Kai again. He still hadn't moved, his calm demeanor unaffected by the chaos around him. His disinterest in unnecessary conflict was telling, but it also made him unpredictable—a detail I filed away for later.

The other candidates, unlike Kai, were far from composed. Desperation seeped into the room like a wave, causing the remaining contestants to falter. To my left, three boys bickered loudly, their lack of coordination making them easy targets. On the far side, a burly participant wielding a massive hammer sent an opponent flying across the room. The devastating strike guaranteed incapacitation, and the display shifted again:

11/17 → 10/17.

Suddenly, Owen Nile's booming voice echoed through the arena.

"CONGRATULATIONS, ROOM 37. YOU HAVE SUCCESSFULLY REDUCED YOUR NUMBERS TO TEN. HOWEVER, YOU TOOK THE LONGEST. AS SUCH, YOU WILL HAVE A LOWER TIME LIMIT AS A PENALTY IN THE NEXT EXAM. NOTE: ALL CANDIDATES SHOULD NOW PREPARE FOR THE NEXT PHASE OF YOUR EXAM!"

Discontented murmurs rippled through the room, but no one dared protest aloud. Complaining wouldn't change the rules.

The arena shifted. The mechanical hum grew louder as walls began to rise from the floor, sectioning off the remaining participants into isolated compartments. The bodies of the fallen contestants disintegrated into nothingness, vanishing like characters in a video game.

A calm, authoritative mechanical voice filled the air.

"Phase Two: Survival Round Initiating. Stay alert. You will be tested on vigilance, decision-making, and adaptability under pressure."

Owen Nile's voice followed, delivering further instructions with cold precision.

"THIS ROUND IS A TEAM SURVIVAL TEST. EACH CANDIDATE MUST PARTNER WITH ANOTHER IN YOUR COMPARTMENTS. THIS ROUND IS EITHER A LAST-TEAM-STANDING CHALLENGE OR A TIME RACE. YOUR GOAL IS TO ELIMINATE AT LEAST ONE OTHER TEAM BEFORE TIME EXPIRES. FAILURE TO DO SO WILL RESULT IN YOUR TEAM'S ELIMINATION FROM THE EXAMS."

The weight of his words settled heavily over the group, the implications of failure sinking in. A heavy silence filled the room, broken only by the faint hum of shifting machinery and the tension of unspoken alliances forming.

The real test had begun.

This phase was designed to test leadership skills and prioritization as a hero. In other words, the goal was to form teams with weaker candidates and collaborate effectively while protecting them. Simple enough. However, I had no intention of choosing someone weak, nor did I want to pair up with a power player like Kai. The best strategy was to select someone random—someone whose abilities complemented mine.

Allowing my Arcana to flow freely, I began probing the candidates in the room, excluding Kai, and focused on observing whether any of them detected or reacted to my probing. Only three individuals reacted; the others neither noticed nor felt anything.

The first to react was a burly man wielding a massive hammer. From what I could sense, he was a Qi user.

The second was an elf draped in a pink cloak who seemed slightly nervous; her trembling hinted at inexperience, but I could sense that she was a mage.

Finally, a masked man similar to Kai reacted. He was an aura user attempting to radiate calm energy.

Each had strengths and weaknesses. The question now was who to choose.

The compartments around us shifted, leaving less and less space for idle thought. I glanced at each potential teammate, weighing risks and rewards. The hammer-wielding Qi user was strong, but brute strength came with a glaring issue—predictability. Someone like him would rely on raw power to solve problems, a strategy that could backfire in a test requiring adaptability.

The elf intrigued me. Her nervousness betrayed inexperience, but that could work to my advantage. A mage's abilities offered versatility, and her lack of confidence meant she might follow my lead without question. However, inexperience also meant liability.

Finally, the masked aura user. He was the wildcard. His reaction to my probing indicated awareness, perhaps intelligence. But his forced calmness concerned me—was he just pretending, or had others truly bought into his façade?

I made my choice.

Walking purposefully toward the elf, I kept my expression neutral. Her eyes widened slightly as I approached, and she clutched her staff defensively.

"I need a partner," I said simply, my tone leaving little room for debate.

She hesitated, glancing around as if expecting someone to intervene. When no one did, she nodded, her grip on her staff loosening slightly.

"Okay."

"Good." I gestured for her to follow as the mechanical voice spoke again.

"PARTNERS CONFIRMED. BEGINNING TEAM SURVIVAL ROUND IN 3… 2… 1…"

The arena shifted violently, the floor beneath us dropping several feet. My boots landed solidly on a new surface—a dense forest-like environment, complete with towering trees, uneven terrain, and the sound of distant running water. The sudden change in atmosphere was disorienting, but I adapted quickly, scanning the area for threats.

The elf stumbled slightly, catching herself on her staff. I resisted the urge to sigh. This was going to require patience.

"What's your name?" I asked, keeping my eyes on the environment.

"Lyria," she replied, her voice soft but steady. "And you?"

"Doesn't matter. Stay close and do exactly as I say."

Lyria frowned but nodded. She wasn't going to argue—yet.

"Tell me your abilities," I continued, keeping my voice low.

"I specialize in attribute magic. Fire and magma, mostly," she said, her tone gaining confidence. "I can create fire barriers too, but they're not very strong."

Fire and magma could be useful for ranged attacks, and barriers—no matter how weak—were better than nothing. She wasn't ideal, but she'd do.

"Stick to ranged attacks. Don't engage unless I tell you to," I instructed.

The sound of rustling leaves caught my attention. My perception ability flared, warning me of imminent danger.

"They're close," I muttered, motioning for Lyria to stay behind me.

From the shadows of the dense foliage, two figures emerged—a lanky man wielding a whip crackling with electricity and a stocky woman with stone-like skin. Their eyes locked onto us, intent clear.

"They're coming for us," Lyria whispered, clutching her staff tightly.

"Good," I replied, a smirk tugging at the corner of my lips.

If they thought we were easy targets, they were about to learn the hard way.

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