The room was colder than the last. Ruben noticed it the moment he stepped in, a thin chill that settled on the back of his neck like cold breath. The space was round, with slate-coloured walls, lit by strips of blue light along the baseboards. Five low stone platforms were arranged in a loose circle. On each sat a small wooden object.
The Lumen Box.
Elea wasn't present in person, but her voice, precise and dispassionate, crackled softly through a hidden speaker. "You have been split into twelve groups of five. Each of you will complete a Lumen Box. Completion of all five will signal the end. There is no time limit."
Ruben stepped closer. The Lumen Box sat quietly on its pedestal like a relic, carved from aged oak, glowing runes pulsing faintly beneath its surface. Its size was modest, six inches per side, but the longer he looked, the more he saw… thirteen sliding tiles forming no clear pattern, four dials hidden as decorative knots, nine runes set like shallow dimples. There were no seams, no locks. Just complexity.
He reached toward it, fingers hovering…
Elea's voice returned. "Once a box is touched, a timer is started for that individual. The speed of your solution will be recorded."
Ruben paused. So scores mattered. He wasn't sure why, but he knew enough now to take her seriously.
He looked around at the others. Four more had entered with him, a skin-headed boy who already looked annoyed, a tall girl with arched brows and a tense jaw, a short girl with frizzy hair pressed into a hood, and one figure almost entirely concealed in a black scarf-like wrap, even the lower half of their face was masked. That one gave off a vaguely familiar scent, but Ruben didn't chase the memory. He didn't care.
"You may begin," Elea's voice said.
Ruben crouched before the box. He let his fingers touch the surface, smooth, cool, humming slightly. The runes responded once, glowing brighter. Runes only respond like that to those who have Egos. The timer had begun.
He didn't overthink it. Didn't tense. He just moved.
First, he traced the thirteen sliding tiles with his eyes, seeing how they shifted. They didn't move in typical directions. The top left one moved diagonally. Another, in the center, clicked sideways and then caused the one beside it to rotate slightly.
That one unlocks something.
He began siding them, not randomly, but following patterns. When arranging it, it just felt right, like an abstract 15-puzzle. Not just rearranging space but unlocking triggers. Three slides in, the fourth dial on the left face clicked outward.
He rotated it once. A low hum pulsed from the runes. The top right rune shimmered.
The dial controls the state of the runes?
Ruben touched the top right rune. It pulsed. He touched the second rune down in rhythm, pulse-pulse-pause. The third rune clicked and depressed like a button.
Tiles clicked. Dials unlocked. He mapped them in his head.
The third dial jammed slightly, he eased off. Too much pressure, and it would reset.
Light touch. Read the feedback.
A pattern emerged. One tile slide enabled a dial. One dial rotation shifted rune arrangements. Rune pressed in the correct sequence revealed new tile pathways.
A soft whir began deep in the box.
Almost there.
He pressed a sequence, rune one, rune four, rune seven, in time with their pulses.
Flash. Click.
All the runes glowed.
The center tile depressed gently beneath his thumb. He pressed.
The box gave a subtle mechanical sigh, like an exhale. Panels unfolded smoothly, each side peeling back like petals of carved wood. Inside… nothing. An empty compartment.
It was done.
He sat back, breath steady. Just three minutes.
He looked had finished. The skinhead boy was scowling, forcefully turning a dial that clicked harshly, then the box buzzed and reset. He swore silently.
The tall girl's brow furrowed in frustration. She had barely moved past the sliding tiles.
The shorter girl had her box tilted, holding it close, confused by the runes pulsing.
Only the scarf-covered one looked composed. Their hands moved precisely, fast, but with a tight, restrained anger. Ruben watched. The boy sensed it and turned. His eyes narrowed above the scarf.
He looked at Ruben. Then down at his own box. He paused, then saw Ruben's folded-open box.
His eyes widened just slightly.
Eighteen minutes passed before he completed his own.
Ten minutes after that, the tall girl solved hers with a triumphant exhale.
Two minutes later the skinhead grunted as his box finally opened. There was a thick gleam of sweat washing down his face like a wave rushing to the banks.
Fifteen more minutes. The last girl solved hers, hands trembling.
Then, Elea's voice again;
"All five boxes have been completed. Well done."
A shimmering screen blinked into the room's air, showing names and times.
Ruben's 3:01 sat proudly at the top.
Murmurs of surprise.
Elea continued, voice as calm as ever.
"Now begins the second segment of Phase One: The voting phase. One of you is not a real candidate. They are already a Paladin, placed among your group. You must determine who."
Gasps were heard in the room, but Ruben noticed that with the amount of people within the room, excluding himself, those gasps came from elsewhere or maybe they were artificial.
People's eyes darted around.
Ruben didn't anticipate this, but he never knew what to expect from these exams.
"You will debate freely. Every hour, a chime will sound, and a pen will drop into the center of the room for each of you. One vote per person may be cast, publicly, by writing a name on the wall behind you."
The walls shimmered, revealing a dark surface-like slate.
"If you eliminate the fake, an iron door will open. If you eliminate an innocent, your remaining discussion time will be reduced by fifteen minutes."
She paused.
"You may only speak between votes. If you eliminate too many innocents and only two of you remain, the trial ends. You both fail. If the sand timer runs out before the fake is found, you all fail. Those who survive proceed to Phase Two, bearing the consequences of your choices."
A deep clunk sounded. The sand timer began. Five hours.
The room went silent.
Then Elea's voice vanished.
***
"It's obviously him!" barked the skin-headed boy, finger stabbing toward Ruben as if naming a criminal.
Ruben didn't flinch. His voice slid out sarcastically as if to make fun of the boy. "First one to throw the stone is always the one hiding the glass house."
That earned a few sidelong glances. Silence thickened. Then, one of the girls, tall and with sandy red hair and a scowl that looked carved from habit, she approached slowly. Her name was Maline Orsel, her name tag was printed in clean text and stuck to her shoulder.
"People might think it's you," she said in a voice that was low and even. "You solved the box three times faster than anyone else."
Ruben tilted his head and let the silence stretch. He watched each of them now, the skinhead boy who stood with his arms crossed and chin raised like defiance was a default setting. A shorter girl, round-shouldered, curly-haired, shivering despite herself, she watched timidly and with a flicker of curiosity. Then the boy wrapped up in dark cloth, face obscured beneath layers of scarf, still and unreadable. Ruben's eyes turned back to Maline.
"Do you think it's me?" he asked, his gaze steady. He wasn't accusing, just searching with wide eyes to see her answer.
Maline's jaw twitched. She didn't look away. "It doesn't matter what I think."
That was an answer within itself. Ruben filed it away.
She does. She thinks it's me.
Which meant that this situation could spiral badly for him. If she took the lead again, if they followed her, he could be voted out this round and not even make it to the second phase. That taste in his mouth turned bitter.
He considered playing a card. Saying he was the grandson of Dario Kosta. But no one would believe him. Also Dario told both him and Corbin it's not a good idea to just go around saying that. And even if he was to be believed, it might backfire. They might assume nepotism. The apprentice program. Six months with a Gold-Rank and then a fast-track pass to Paladin status. It was something very hard to get into.
No. he'd need something else. Something immediate.
He shifted his focus.
"You know," Ruben said, turning to the skinhead, "there's a real chance you just faked your score. Take your sweet time so you don't stick out. That's an easy play."
The skinhead barked out a high-pitched laugh. "I'm not the type to fake anything. I go for what I want the second I want it. If the rest of you had your eyes on the ball, we'd have more Paladin saves instead of death."
Ruben narrowed his eyes. He believed him. He didn't think someone could just act like that. His name tag said Darius Falk. Darius. He had noticed that many children or even some older people that were parents had names all in relation to Dario, it was something that had gone up in popularity for the hero of the nation.
The other girl, who was smaller, hadn't raised her voice yet. She nodded with Darius. Her name tag read, Anya Thevenet.
"I don't think finishing last means anything," Anya said gently. "It was a weird puzzle. Hard. That's all."
"It's like many of the puzzles from the nation in the far west, Shinko-Ken," said Maline sharply. "Puzzles like that are common in their logic academies."
Ruben looked at her, eyebrows raised in amusement. "Really…"
She met his sarcasm with irritation. "Yes. And I know that because I am educated. Not a secret Paladin."
He couldn't argue. She was right. Shinko-Ken was to this world what East Asia was to his old world.
Still he caught the way Darius looked to her. More wary now. Suspicion in the edges of his posture.
Good. Simple minds latch onto contrast. She's sharp, he's blunt. Mismatched friction creates targets.
But Ruben had just remembered the fifth player.
The quiet one. Cloaked. Unmoving. Ruben found his presence frustratingly easy to overlook, like a glitch in the air. No energy. No footprint. He turned his focus away again.
Why?
Better to push the one in front.
"Maline," he said smoothly. "Third-best time, right? And you took charge the moment we started talking. Logic and leadership. A bit too eager, no?"
She narrowed her eyes. "Someone had to. I wasn't about to leave it to the dullard."
"No offense." She added half-heartedly to Darius.
He growled.
That was rude. But it was also good.
Anya pointed to Ruben. "How did you solve your box so fast?"
Ruben leaned back, pretending to consider.
"Ego." He said.
The word dropped like a coin in a well. All eyes locked on him. Revealing your Ego, many do not do so. It's tactically reckless.
He didn't explain. He didn't have to. Let them fill in the gaps. Mental enhancement? Pattern recognition? Doesn't matter. He wanted doubt. Misdirection. No one would think a cognitive Ego was dangerous, not yet. Especially not with physical trials to come.
Maline's face pinched. She had ideas, and she didn't like being outplayed. Ruben pushed again.
"What's your excuse, then? Finishing fast but not first?"
She looked flustered. "I've done similar puzzles before. I just got the hang of it after a few tries."
Then she pointed. "You're trying to turn everyone against me. Don't fall for his tricks! He's manipulating you."
She scanned them, Anya, Darius, she even glanced at the shrouded one. Her eyes were wide. Pleading. Ruben had seen it before. Cornered logic turning into desperation.
He already knew where his vote was heading.
"Let's make this simple," Ruben said casually. "You and me. One of us. Rock, paper, scissors. Winner stays. Loser gets the votes."
She looked like she thought about it for a few seconds. Ruben lifted a hand, already poised.
She froze. Then her hand fell. "I know my vote. I'm not playing your stupid games."
And with that, she turned away.
The room descended into silence. No one spoke for the rest of the allotted time we were allowed.
Then, soft clicks. Pens dropped from the ceiling. Slim, dark, ordinary at first glance.
Elea's voice came, smooth and cold.
"Voting may commence."
Ruben picked up a pen. The moment he touched it, he noticed a familiar rune etched near the click, it was similar to one of the runes that was on the Lumen Box.
Interesting.
He turned to the wall. Tried to write.
Nothing.
"The pens are Ego tools," Elea said. "Ink is visible only to the writer. You must write with intent. The marks will be recorded."
Maline muttered something about a mistake. Darius chuckled. "And here I thought I was the dullard."
"Silence." Elea's voice snapped.
They wrote.
Names were tallied.
The display blinked on.
[Maline Orsel - 3 votes.]
[Ruben Rayo - 2 vote.]
[Anya Thevenet - 0 votes.]
[Darius Falk - 0 votes.]
[Elijah Neri - 0 votes.]
Maline sighed, almost theatrically. She stepped toward the door as it slid open for her.
She looked back at Ruben. There was no anger. Just a flat and resigned smile. The kind that said, well-played. She was disappointed in herself.
Then she was gone.
One minute later, Elea's voice returned.
"Maline Orself was not a Paladin."
Anya gasped softly. Darius frowned. Ruben said nothing.
He had expected it. She wasn't the fake and he never thought she was. She just had to go. She was the easier target and he felt that if he went after Darius they would have ganged up on him, Maline was the type to just keep on chipping away at everyone until she got to a point where he would have to reveal something he wouldn't want to.
It was better for him if she were kicked. The game was more about survival than it was about truth.
But Ruben wasn't focused on that. He eyed the tally, he had two votes. Someone else had voted for him. And that someone had to be the last name.
The recognizable name. Elijah.
Ruben's mouth twitched. He looked at the shrouded boy who had been the quiet and by some people's descriptions, creepy classmate of his for two years.
He didn't even notice him. He was the one shrouded in that dark clothing.
He had never spoken to him while in school.
Ruben smirked.
But before he could say anything, he noticed Darius and Anya staring at him.
Two pairs of eyes quiet and wary.
He said nothing.
The next hour had already begun.