They stopped at the entrance. For a moment, neither of them spoke. The air here felt different.
Heavier. Like something was watching.
Samuel rolled his wrist slowly. The stiffness from the fight lingered. Newton did the same, his injured shoulder tightening with every small movement. The dried blood tugged at his skin.
Then, a faint blue glow. It flickered to life in front of their eyes.
SYSTEM NOTIFICATION.
FIFTEEN POINT DETECTED.
CLICK ON PROCEED TO LEVEL UP.
Their gazes dropped at the same time. To their wrists. The glow reflected faintly on their skin.
Samuel didn't hesitate. He lifted his hand and tapped. Newton followed a second later.
The moment their fingers moved, the world shifted. The entrance door in front of them flickered.
Then, it vanished. Like it had never been there. A hollow silence followed. Then another line appeared.
ACCESS GRANTED.
Samuel let out a slow breath.
"Let's go." Newton nodded. They stepped forward. The moment they crossed, the door reappeared behind them.
Not gently. It slammed into existence with a sharp, metallic force. The sound echoed through the corridor.
Both of them paused instinctively. Newton glanced back. The door stood still now.
Sealed. No handle. No opening. No way back. "Guess that's it," Samuel muttered.
Newton didn't respond. His eyes had already moved ahead. There was something on the wall. At first, it looked like stains.
Then, the shape became clearer. Letters. Rough, and uneven.
Written in something dark. Too dark. They stepped closer. The smell hit faintly.
Metallic, and old.
Newton's jaw tightened. Blood. The words stretched across the wall.
DEATH ANGELS.
The letters looked carved more than written. Dragged, and forced.
Samuel let out a low breath. "Who writes something like this?" Newton didn't answer. His eyes traced the edges of the letters.
Uneven strokes. Some deeper than others. As if whoever wrote it, didn't stop to rest.
"Let's move," Newton said quietly. They didn't linger. The corridor stretched long and narrow. Their footsteps echoed softly as they walked.
Each step seemed louder than it should be. The silence pressed in. No voices. No movement. Just the sound of their breathing and boots against the ground.
Then, light. It spilled from the end of the corridor. They stepped through, and everything opened.
Newton stopped. His mouth parted slightly..The space before them was massive. An arena. But not like the one they left behind.
This one lived. Students filled the space. Dozens of them. Moving. Training. Fighting.
The sound hit all at once. Clashing swords. Heavy breathing.
Shouted instructions..Footsteps scraping across the ground. Newton's eyes moved quickly. Taking it all in.
Then he noticed something else. The instructors. Not machines. Not cold metal.
But humans. Real.
Some old, with grey hair and sharp eyes. Others were middle-aged, built like warriors who had survived too much to be ordinary.
One of them barked an order, and the student immediately dropped to the ground, gasping.
"This is a proper academy," Samuel said under his breath.
Newton nodded slowly. "It doesn't look dangerous." But even as he said it, his eyes lingered.
On the way the instructors watched. On how quickly mistakes were punished. On the silence that followed every command.
Danger didn't always look like chaos. Sometimes it looked controlled. They stood there a moment longer.
Watching, and measuring.
Then, movement. A group passed by them. Confident, and loud.
At the center was Maxwell.
Newton's muscles tightened instantly. His fingers curled slightly.
Maxwell didn't stop. He walked past them like they didn't exist. But his eyes flicked toward them.
Just for a second. That same grin.
Sharp, and mocking. Only this time, he wasn't leading.
He was following someone ahead. Newton's jaw clenched.
Samuel noticed. "Not now," he muttered. Newton didn't respond. His eyes stayed on Maxwell until he disappeared into the crowd.
Then, a voice.
Calm, and old. "You must be Newton, and Samuel." They turned instantly.
An old man stood before them. Straight posture. Sharp eyes. Nothing about him looked weak.
They both nodded. "Yes, sir." The man didn't waste time. He turned immediately. "Follow me."
No explanation. No hesitation. They exchanged a quick glance, then followed.
He walked with steady steps. Not fast. Not slow. Just enough to keep them alert.
They passed through another corridor. Quieter, and cleaner. Less crowded.
The sounds of the arena faded behind them. The old man stopped at a door. He pushed it open. "This is your room."
That was all he said. No instructions. No warning. Nothing.
He turned and walked away. Samuel frowned slightly. "That's it?" No answer came. Newton stepped inside.
Samuel followed. The room was simple. Two beds. A table, and clean.
Too clean compared to where they came from. Newton walked further in. His fingers brushed the edge of the bed.
Soft, and real. Samuel exhaled. "Well, this is new."
Newton didn't reply. His eyes were moving again. Scanning. That was when Samuel saw it.
A note. Gummed to the wall. Crooked. Like it was placed in a hurry. "Come see this, man," Samuel said.
Newton stepped closer. Samuel reached it first. His eyes ran across the words. Then slowed.
Then narrowed. Newton came beside him. And read.
RULES OF LEVEL TWO.
DO NOT KILL WITHOUT THE SYSTEM'S INSTRUCTION.
DO NOT DISOBEY THE SYSTEM.
OUTSIDE FROM THESE, THERE ARE NO RULES.
Silence filled the room. Newton leaned back slightly. "What?" His voice dropped. "This means we cannot kill Maxwell without the system's approval."
Samuel's jaw tightened. His hands curled into fists. The muscles in his neck tensed. "No matter what," Samuel said slowly, "I am going to pierce my sword into his heart."
Newton glanced at him. There was no hesitation in his voice. No doubt. Just certainty.
Before either of them could say more, the blue glow appeared again.
SYSTEM NOTIFICATION:
WELCOME TO LEVEL TWO.
HERE YOU WILL NEED 20 POINTS TO PROCEED TO LEVEL THREE.
TASKS WILL BE ISSUED OUT EVERY WEEKEND.
The words hovered. Cold, unfeeling. Then vanished.
Samuel exhaled sharply. "More points." Newton sat on the edge of the bed. "More problems."
The silence returned. But this time, it wasn't empty. It carried weight. They didn't talk much after that. There wasn't much to say.
Samuel lay down first. Hands behind his head. Eyes staring at the ceiling. Newton remained seated a little longer.
Thinking, and watching the door. As if expecting it to open. It didn't, eventually.
He lay down too. The bed felt strange. Too soft. Too comfortable. His body didn't trust it at first. But exhaustion took over.
His eyes closed. And for the first time in a long while, sleep came quickly.