Sion walked through the forest with quiet ease—a sign of his familiarity with the foliage.
As usual, his instincts led his path.
Soon, he came to a stop by a stone altar.
Hovering above it was a single earring.
A diamond—small, clean-cut, and gleaming unnaturally bright. It shimmered like it had been pulled from starlight, not earth. No chain. No hook. Just a floating gem waiting to be claimed.
It didn't radiate power.
It whispered.
Like it had already chosen him.
Sion leaned in, eyes narrowing. He reached for it—and the diamond drifted gently into his hand, weightless and warm.
Without hesitation, he brought it to his ear.
The moment it touched his lobe, it clicked in place—firm, seamless, like it had always belonged there.
A soft pulse followed. Just once.
He stepped back, letting his hand brush against the earring. A diamond, now dangling from his left ear.
It was both subtle and distinct. Like a signature only the bold could wear.
He hadn't even figured out what it did yet, but it didn't matter.
It would come when it needed to.
Sion looked down at his badge.
10,000 points.
Clean.
He'd passed the phase. No close calls. No wasted motion.
His instincts had dragged him right to the spot, just as they did now.
He looked back at the altar, now empty.
"A superhero's luck," he muttered.
Then—the sky pulsed.
Above the forest, the holographic screen reappeared, golden text blazing bright across the fading blue.
[
Phase Two: Complete.
All surviving participants: Reported.
The Blessing is over.
Phase Three: Initiating…
]
A pause.
Then the title hit:
[ HUNT OR BE HUNTED. ]
Sion's face didn't shift.
But if he could see himself, he'd have noticed the change.
He no longer looked like a good-looking village boy.
Now, he looked like a good-looking youth wearing village clothes—with something different behind his eyes.
The earring changed him. Not in power. In presence.
[
Notice: All high-point candidates are now marked.
Additional participants entering forest zone: 37.
Category: Criminal.
Goal: Hunt down the criminals.
Reward: Ten thousand points per criminal.
]
Sion clicked his tongue.
"…They're encouraging killing."
Then—
The forest changed.
The air thickened.
A heavy pressure swept through the trees—intent. Not wild. Directed. Dangerous. Cruel.
Sion's gaze sharpened.
"This test..." he muttered. "Might be the perfect superhero training ground after all."
He lowered his stance slightly.
"Let's see how many lives I can save."
Just as he was about to move, he paused.
"Huh?" He looked sideways, head tilting slightly. "Interesting..."
A few moments ago.
Elsewhere in the forest...
The air shimmered.
Not with magic. Not with light.
But with something heavier.
Intent.
A vertical tear split through the sky above a quiet grove—crackling like lightning forced into a seam. Then, with a sound like stone grinding against bone, thirty-seven figures dropped.
No grace. No formation. Just impact.
They hit the earth like curses given form—some on feet, others on knees, but none looked hurt.
Because they didn't feel pain like most.
They weren't students.
They weren't examinees.
They were predators.
The forest stilled around them.
The one who landed first stood slowly, cracking his neck with a sharp twist. He looked around at the others—criminals, outlaws, ex-soldiers, Gifted and Awakened alike. Some were gaunt. Some looked like war gods.
All of them were killers.
And they had been given a chance:
"Survive the hunt, and walk free."
The voice echoed in their skulls.
For most of them, freedom had been a myth—something spoken of only in dreams or in madness. No one left Death Academy's dungeons.
Until now.
The Academy had handed them a gift:
Thirty-seven wolves, loosed into a forest full of sheep.
And every sheep killed was one step closer to the gate.
One of the criminals—a hunched, emaciated man—began to cackle. The sound grated against the trees.
He sniffed the air.
Then turned toward a cluster of nearby prisoners—his grin wide, lips cracked.
"Follow me, bitches," he rasped, voice oily with anticipation.
"Let's go hunt a cub."
The emaciated man licked his lips and stalked forward, six shadows falling in behind him—a pack of hyenas following a starving wolf.
The others watched them go, some smirking, others indifferent.
A woman with no eyes, her sockets stitched shut with gold thread, tilted her head as if listening to their footsteps. Then she turned and walked the opposite way, bare feet silent on the moss.
Nearby, a twin dragged his brother's corpse by the ankle, its rotting fingers scraping grooves in the dirt. He hummed a lullaby as he went.
A giant, his skin grafted with metal plates, cracked his knuckles and vanished into the trees with a grunt.
A girl, no older than twelve, giggled and skipped after him, her dress stained with old blood.
And then there was him.
A young man, unremarkable in every way—average height, plain face, clothes neither ragged nor fine. He stood still, staring at the emaciated man's back as the distance between them grew.
No smirk. No snarl. Just watchfulness.
Then, without a sound, he followed.
Soon, of the thirty-seven criminals dropped, only twenty remained.
The remaining criminals all turned to look at a chubby figure who had stood silently in their middle. His presence was strange—unassuming at first glance, almost soft.
But they all knew better.
Of everyone here, he was the most dangerous.
A predator wrapped in politeness. A smiling butcher.
The chubby man's grin never wavered. "Hmm, for now, let's prioritize..."
He paused, turning his gaze toward the trees. "Hmm... is a sheep delivering itself to the wolves?"
Just as he said that, the foliage at that spot parted as a huge bear stepped forward. On the bear's back sat a young petite girl, a smile that was not a smile dancing on her face.
"One, two, three... Twenty." She briefly counted. "So, two hundred thousand points... Not bad."
"Huh?" one of the criminals scoffed. He was tall and lanky, tattoos crawling up his arms. "Counting your chickens before they hatch, huh?"
He raised his right hand and gestured toward the girl. A metal spike materialized and shot toward her in a blink.
The girl didn't flinch. Still seated on the bear, she watched it come.
Just before impact, she mouthed a word:
"Disintegrate."
It echoed—not aloud, but inside the minds of those near her.
The spike collapsed in midair. Turned to dust. Atoms.
She waved her hand lazily, brushing the particles away like lint.
Then she smiled again.
"You guys don't have to be in such a rush... First, let me—the great Anessa—introduce you to my little buddy here."
She patted the bear's fur.
"Meet Grandy, the Furry Destroyer."
---
North of this location…
Sion sat on a small rock, his breath even as he waited.
Not long after, seven figures blurred into view a short distance away.
The emaciated man led them, his grin sharp as he stared down at Sion.
"Cub, what are you doing out here in the wild? Don't you know there are bad animals who might eat you?" His voice grated, discordant—its sound delayed behind his lips.
Sion didn't flinch.
He just stared. "You guys are the criminals, right?"
"Oh? Calling someone worried about your safety a criminal? Tsk tsk. That's a little rude, don't you think?" The man's pitch climbed disturbingly. "But don't worry—I won't take it personally. Just stay still so I can eat you before the other bad animals show up."
"Hmm… threatening my life." Sion paused. "Honestly, I don't mind. But tell me—what would you do if you came across others out here?"
"You mean those little bugs scattered around the forest? Simple."
He raised his hands high, his face alight with ecstasy.
"Rip them apart!" the group echoed in unison.
Sion sighed.
"Too bad. I thought maybe… just maybe… you could go down a different path. Maybe you could be saved."
The man chuckled, the sound shaking nearby trees.
"Really too bad..." Sion shook his head, almost pitying.
"Well, if I can't save your lives…"
A slow smile spread across his face.
"...at least I can help you keep them."