The aftermath of the first trial hung thick in the air like dust that refused to settle. The battlefield sim had collapsed, the desert flushing, leaving behind steel floors and harsh fluorescent light. One moment there had been sand, blood, screaming, and monstrous screeching, next only a cold facility and the sound of survivors breathing.
Blinding white panels slid open in the walls. Medics surged forward like a flood; white coats, rolling stretchers, and medical supplies. Those who could still walk supported the limping. Others were carried, pale and bleeding, cracked trackers flickering weakly around their wrists.
A pair of medics rushed to Agnar immediately.
"Severe internal damage; multiple fractures, punctured lung," one assessed rapidly.
"Stabilize the lung. Begin regeneration fluid," another ordered.
A cold sting pierced his arm as a syringe sank into his skin. His lungs expanded in painful relief, and he gasped like someone dragged out of deep water.
Consciousness flickered, voices distant, lights swimming, but gradually the world sharpened.
He woke lying on a treatment bed. Machines beeped steadily beside him. A clear mask fed cool oxygen into his chest. His arm was wrapped in bandages.
"You're lucky you didn't die."
The voice was stern. Bjorn sat at his bedside, arms crossed.
Agnar tried to speak, but his throat burned.
Bjorn leaned closer.
"You pushed yourself past your limit. Most people would've given into the pain and slip into a coma." He paused, single eye narrowing. "You're reckless, but I'll admit you've got guts."
Agnar didn't know how to respond. Instead he managed a strained smirk.
Thanks to the advancement in medicine, treatment didn't take long. They fitted him with a portable healing brace that wrapped his ribs and shoulder. Bandages freshly dressed, bones aligned, sensors removed. Eventually, one medic tapped his shoulder.
"You're cleared to move," she said. "But avoid strenuous activities for at least an hour."
Agnar slid off the bed slowly. His ribs still ached, but the support suit wrapped around him eased each breath. With effort, he walked to the waiting area where other contestants sat in rows; silent, haunted, exhausted.
He took a seat. Moments later, someone dropped onto the bench beside him.
A familiar scent, tobacco.
Agnar looked over.
It was the scruffy haired man. Cigarette between his lips, one eyebrow raised like nothing unusual had happened today.
"You look terrible."
Agnar didn't respond at first. His body still adjusting from the treatment.
The man flicked ash to the floor and leaned forward, eyes partially shadowed under messy hair.
"So," he said calmly, staring ahead, "Why're you here?"
Agnar blinked.
"What?"
"Your motivation."
He tapped his cigarette.
"Everyone in this place has a reason. Fame. Money. Revenge. Recognition. Fear."
He finally looked at Agnar, expression unreadable.
"So what drives you?"
Agnar stared at his hands and dropped them. Looking ahead with fire lit in his eyes.
"To be the best raider the world has ever seen."
The scruffy haired man looked at the expression on agnar's face as he uttered those words. His eyes filled with determination, drive, resolve. He took a drag out of his cigarette.
"With determination like yours you might pull it off" he said as he exhaled.
"But determination can only take you so far."
He stood up and walked away, vanished without a trace.
Shortly after, someone slammed down onto the bench so hard Agnar nearly jumped.
Ash.
Grinning wide, arm wrapped, bandaged, hair undressed.
"Dude, you're alive!" he beamed. "I thought you'd never make it!"
Agnar frowned.
"No thanks to you"
Ash laughed, slinging an arm around his shoulders. Agnar flinched.
"Ah right, ribs... sorry!"
Agnar shook his head.
"Why are you smiling? We almost died."
"Oh yh" Ash said with an awkward smile while rubbing the back of his head. "In near death experience you'll realize how alive you truly are."
Agnar wasn't sure what to do with someone like him. He wasn't used to bright things especially things that talked.
Still…
Something about Ash's presence kept him calm.
Agnar exhaled, tension leaving him slowly.
"Yeah. I guess you could say that."
"I'm going to go get something to drink."
Agnar pushed himself up and shuffled toward a vending machine. The hallway was quite. His footsteps echoed alone.
He pressed his palm to the machine's scanner.
It beeped.
A small bottle of energy drink fell to the bottom chamber.
As he reached for it
Someone arrived beside him.
Slim build. Brown hair gathered into a bun. Calm, unreadable expression.
Her presence was intimidating like that of a wild beast.
Agnar had never seen her before.
But he was sure of one thing, she was incredibly strong. He could sense it.
Without looking at him, she selected her drink.
A can of grape juice dropped with a metal clink.
Agnar swallowed.
"You're a fan of grape juice?"
She finally glanced at him with cold eyes, clinical but not cruel.
"Yes."
Agnar cleared his throat.
"How long have you been training for?"
Her expression remained flat.
"For as long as I can remember. You relied on the suit. Its obvious, you didn't trust yourself. The gear responds to its wielder not the other way around."
Agnar frowned.
"So you're saying I'm weak."
She sipped her drink calmly.
"I'm saying you fought like someone unsure of themselves."
Her words cut deep.
He opened his mouth but she was already walking away.
"Learn to command your power," she said without turning back.
"It's only going to get harder from here on out."
Agnar stared at the bottle in his hand, her voice echoing in his head.
She was right.
And he hated that.
Minutes later, a small group of contestants gathered near the exit. Their expressions were pale, bordering fear. Trackers already removed.
One stepped forward. Buzz cut. Thick eyebrows. He looked like someone forced to watch their own funeral and walk away alive.
"I'm leaving," the boy said, with a lifeless look on his face. "We almost died. I didn't know things would get this dangerous. I'm not sticking around long enough to see how things end."
Another nodded, tears building.
"I thought being a Raider would be heroic not suicide."
More joined; five, then eight, then ten forming a quiet line toward the exit. With their minds made up.
Then the buzz cut boy looked at Agnar.
"Come with us," he said. "You were hurt worse than any of us. You barely survived. Another trial will kill you."
Someone whispered agreement.
Agnar's fist clenched.
Fear twisted in his chest but beneath it burned something brighter. Sharper. Hotter.
Resolve.
He looked directly into the boy's eyes.
"I'm not leaving."
The boy froze.
Agnar continued.
"I'm not weak like you."
The corridor went silent.
Faces stiffened. The buzz cut boy trembled not with fear now, but with rage.
His fist snapped forward
CRACK.
The punch connected with Agnar's cheek, snapping his head sideways.
His cheek went red. Blood on the lip.
Agnar wiped his lip, then stared back unflinching.
"I survived the desert," he said quietly.
"I'll survive everything else."
The boy's eyes shimmered with grief and fury but he said nothing. He and the others walked away, vanishing down the hall.
Agnar stood alone blood on the lip, chest rising and falling, stronger than he felt moments ago.
This was the moment he truly found his resolve.
Not because he wouldn't die
But because he wouldn't run.
Footsteps echoed.
The examiner entered the hall.
Instantly, the room tensed. The remaining contestants sat up straighter, medics stepped aside.
The examiner scanned their faces measuring, evaluating. Beside him, holographic screens appeared, showing the updated roster of contestants.
Only 235 remained.
"Congratulations on making it passed the first trial," he said simply. "Fewer than half of you remain."
He continued:
"The first trial tested raw endurance heat, pressure, hostility. The next trial will test your instincts."
A murmur rippled through the crowd.
"This next round is the final round. The goal is simple, kill as much monsters as you can, show excellent use of the SMX gear and make sure your tracker doesn't break."
Agnar had a serious look on his face. Ash and Bjorn exchanged looks from across the hall.
The examiner gestured toward a massive steel door behind him.
"Rest while you can. Beyond this door is the last obstacle before you become raiders."
The next trial was moments away.
Agnar sat still. The scruffy haired man stood beside him, stretching lazily.
"Raw talent is everything, but in very few cases it isn't enough," he muttered, glancing at Agnar without turning fully, "Make sure your dream is worth dying for."
He walked away leaving Agnar staring at the door, heart already pounding unsure of what waited beyond it.
The alarm sounded.
A new trial begins...