Where our corrupted dreams sprout

Fear. Raw, urgent, primal. Humans have always been terrified of the unknown, the unacceptable, and most of all, the unexplainable.

Witnessing the grandeur before them, there was no feeling of worship or awe to be had—only heart-wrenching fear, a panic that seeped into their bones, twisting their perception of reality and logic.

Minds spiraled into chaos, spinning with unanswered questions: "Am I dead?" "When will I wake up from this nightmare?" "Have my sins caught up with me? Have I finally been cast into hell?"

A dry, cracked laugh broke the silence, pulling everyone's attention to a male student who had begun to laugh manically. His movements were erratic as he clawed at his neck, hopping in place like a puppet with its strings cut.

"I get it now. This is all a prank! Hahaha! A prank!" His laughter grew louder, jagged, his voice fraying at the edges. His eyes darted wildly as he clung to a false sense of confidence. "I got scared for nothing. None of this is real!"

The boy turned to Ceryn, his smug expression plastered with delusion. He clapped his hands mockingly, as if congratulating him.

"I have to hand it to you, Ceryn. You sure spent a lot on this one. But after seeing that thing,"—he gestured at the floating creature—"I'm sure none of this is real. It's just some elaborate joke."

Ceryn's face remained blank, devoid of fear or any trace of emotion, a stark contrast to the other students. This unnerving calm only fueled the boy's delusion.

"Okay, we've all had a good laugh. Party's over," the boy continued. He turned toward the creature, walking away from the group. His voice dripped with bravado as he pointed at the entity. "Props to you for the costume. Horrific design, I'll admit, but it could use some improvem—"

A sudden gale howled across the rooftop. The air whistled violently, kicking up dust and debris as the students shielded their eyes with trembling hands.

Then came the sound.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Something bounced across the rooftop, rolling to a slow, sickening stop.

A female student, her arms still raised to block the wind, lowered them cautiously—only to be met with the horrific sight of a severed head lying at her feet. The face was frozen in its smug confidence, the lifeless eyes still staring forward, as if mocking her for her disbelief.

She gasped, stumbling backward. Her wide eyes darted to the headless body still staggering forward, its legs attempting to complete the boy's last steps before finally collapsing in a heap.

Her thoughts spiraled. "Is my mind playing tricks on me? Wasn't he right? This can't be real, can it—"

The words caught in her throat as icy terror gripped her. Her chest heaved, her breath quickening, her heart thundering in her ears. She clutched her head as if to hold her sanity together, the scream building in her throat.

And then—

"Any of you monkeys who so much as let out another sound will be executed on the spot."

The voice was cold, sharp, and absolute. The scream died in her throat, and her trembling hands fell silent by her sides. Around her, the students froze, terror etched across their faces.

Myrille's body trembled uncontrollably as she gripped Ceryn's shirt for reassurance. Her face was pale, drained of all blood, as her mind raced. "Why is this happening? What's going on?" She had seen death today, but not like this—not so direct, so brutal, so merciless.

Behind Ceryn, the students were paralyzed, trapped in the grip of abject terror.

"The only reason you are all still alive," the creature began, its voice unnervingly calm, "is because I am not meant to kill seeds. Your pitiful existences are beneath me. Staining my hands with your filth would be… tedious."

Its form drifted closer, its presence suffocating as the students instinctively stepped back.

"However, I will not hesitate to cut down anyone who annoys me. Keep that in mind when you interact with me."

For a moment, silence reigned as the creature surveyed its prey. Then—

"So you won't kill us under normal circumstances."

All heads turned in shock to the source of the question.

Ceryn stood firm, his cold, unflinching eyes locked on the creature. Behind him, Myrille tugged desperately at his shirt, seeking strength. Beside him, Claire and Asher stood with unreadable expressions, neither flinching nor stepping back.

'Hoh,' the creature thought, tilting its spiraling face toward Ceryn. "We have some interesting ones."

"You won't kill us unless provoked," Ceryn mused, squinting at the creature. "That would mean, despite our 'insignificance,' there's something you need from us… something worth lowering yourself to communicate with us. Perhaps you aren't even here by choice. You were sent here by someone else."

Its gaze narrowed slightly, the spiraling texture of its face twisting unnaturally as it considered his words. Then it chuckled, a low, bone-chilling sound.

"Hmm… you're half right and half wrong," it replied coolly. "I do have a purpose for you, but I wasn't sent here. I came of my own accord."

Ceryn nodded. His voice remained calm, detached. "Then you killed him because he was disrespectful? Or did you kill him to set the tone? To make an example of someone unruly, keeping the rest of us in line?"

Another voice cut through the tense air.

"Was it both?" Claire asked, her tone laced with curiosity rather than condemnation.

The creature turned to her, clearly intrigued.

"Hmm, a bit of both," it admitted. "And also… that one had already lost its mind. I have no use for the mentally challenged."

Myrille's fists clenched tightly as she stared at the creature with disgust. 'It's treating us like toys. Like we're here for its amusement,' she thought, her heart pounding. She straightened her back, steeling herself. 'I can't show weakness—not in front of this thing. I need to be strong for the others.'

The creature tilted its head again, seemingly amused. "This is delightful. I didn't expect such intelligent responses or remarks. But… why waste my resources or power impressing you? You're all not worthy."

Ceryn stepped forward slightly, narrowing his eyes. "So what just happened—his death," he said, pointing at the headless corpse, "and the deaths of the other thousands in the vicinity—was necessary for achieving what exactly?"

The creature's single eye locked onto him, spiraling slightly faster.

"Brilliant. You've asked the real question," it said, almost with amusement.

It unfurled its wings to their full length, blotting out the sun and casting a long shadow over all the students. Its presence was fully on display. The feeling of being small, worthless, insignificant, ran rampant. For the first time, they all understood what it felt like to be cattle in a slaughterhouse.

"Why? Even I do not know," it began, its figure glowing eerily as its eye and thorny halo spun rapidly. "The process is random and cannot be calculated nor predicted."

It raised a hand, and a golden scythe materialized from thin air.

"There is much you do not know about this universe, but in short, you have all been pulled into a compulsory trial. You have passed the first test—luck and instincts."

Its spiraling face twisted further as it floated higher and higher.

"Now," it said, its voice dropping an octave, resonating with a weight that made their knees weak, "prepare yourselves. The real trials are about to begin."

It swung the scythe down, and a blinding light overtook the entire surroundings.

By the time the light faded, they were all gone—and so was the creature.

All that remained was the weeping wind and the hollow void of uncertainty hanging in the air as the sun reached its zenith, then began to sink into the horizon. Another day ended. And soon another would begin.