Nyx Hollow – Day One, Hour Four.
The Hollow shifted as time passed, like a living organism slowly waking up from an ancient dream. Areas that once looked stable began to warp. Terrain twisted. Gravity flickered. And the air grew thick with static, the way it does before a storm—except this storm had fangs.
But for the most promising students, this was still just another challenge.
---
Sector A – The Floating Geysers
Atop a series of levitating stone platforms, a squad of elite combatants moved like synchronized dancers.
Arin Dreval, ranked #3 among swordbearers, executed a fluid arc with his dual blades, cleanly severing the legs off a six-legged shadow hound mid-air. His hair was dusted with monster ash, his cloak ripped—but his face held a grin.
"Next wave in two minutes," he called out, tapping his enchanted boots. "Get the mana cells ready!"
"Already on it!" replied Lucia Ferel, ranked #2 among alchemists. She was crouched near a ridge, loading crystal cartridges into a brass cannon the size of a small child. "Let's turn the next batch into goo."
Their group—seven students in total—had established a floating stronghold using stone levitation runes, harvested materials, and Lucia's borderline psychotic work ethic.
They'd even named the base: Skyhole Fort.
Because, quote: "Everything's a hole. We're in the sky. Skyhole. Don't question genius."
---
Sector D – The Swamp of Echoes
Not all top-ranked students formed groups.
Elias Varn, Rank #14 Mage and rising anomaly, moved alone. Quiet. Unbothered. Calculating.
He'd marked his zone with anti-creature sigils and set timed illusions to scare off low-level predators. Occasionally, he sat under a leaning tree with a mana compass in his lap and whispered incantations too quiet to be heard.
The others called him "Creeper Mage" behind his back.
He didn't care.
Elias wasn't here for popularity.
He was here to map the Hollow's pattern.
And so far, he'd realized something crucial:
The zone was rotating.
He could feel it in the mana flow.
"I need more data," he murmured, stabbing a beast's fang into the bark of a glowing tree. "It's alive. Intelligent. Testing us."
Then he paused.
Far across the Hollow, something flared—a spike of corrupted mana.
He turned in that direction for a moment.
But just as quickly, he looked away.
"Not my problem."
---
Meanwhile, back at the Obsidian Tower Observation Room—
The professors continued monitoring feeds.
"Interesting. Group 12 managed to tame a wyvern."
Professor Merin scribbled notes. "Too fast. They're pushing too hard. That beast wasn't supposed to be triggered until Day Two."
"They're fifteen," Professor Yulina said, sipping tea. "They think they're invincible."
"They might break the ecosystem," muttered another.
And then—
One of the mirrors glitched.
The corrupted feed showed a boy dragging himself with one leg through a half-burned forest, clutching a stick like it was Excalibur.
"...Is that… Kingslay again?" someone muttered.
The feed cut out before they could see more.
---
Sector H – Burnt Edge Forest
Zane groaned, lying belly-down under a scorched root, skin half-smeared in ash and possibly monster poop. His left eye twitched as he stared at a beetle crawling across his hand.
"You ever look at a bug and feel like you're spiritually connected?" he whispered.
The System pinged.
> [Vitality Critical – Auto-Heal: Locked due to Corruption Interference]
[S.A.S.S. Suggestion: Try not dying, genius.]
He rolled onto his back with a grunt, inspecting his injuries: cracked ribs, burned shoulder, ankle swollen like a melon.
"Well," he said aloud, "this calls for desperate measures."
And then—
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a half-broken flask.
"Today's episode of Bear Grills: Hollow Edition begins now," he croaked, raising his voice like a fake British accent. "Today, we're stranded in a hellscape dimension with zero supplies, one boot, and the digestive remains of a dead dog monster under our nails."
He chewed a mint leaf. It was not a mint leaf.
"Rule one: Always hydrate, even if it's with questionable monster drool."
He sniffed the flask. Gagged. Drank it anyway.
"AHHH, yes," he gasped. "That's either fermented swamp juice or battery acid. Both will do."
Then he crawled to a small puddle of stagnant mana-infused water and began splashing it on his leg.
"Wound cleaning. If it stings, you're still alive. If it screams back at you… relocate."
His body shook.
His hand trembled.
But slowly, slowly… the bleeding stopped.
[Status: Temporary Recovery. Mana Seepage Detected.]
Zane leaned against a rock, exhaling like a dying camel.
"Not today, death. I've got chapters left to write."
And then he froze.
A noise.
Footsteps.
Not beast-like.
Not charging.
Careful. Synchronized.
He didn't look. Just stayed silent.
The shadows moved near him—but didn't notice.
Two figures passed just a few feet away.
Students.
Top-ranked ones.
He heard the voices, muffled but familiar.
"…Set the beacon here. This whole region is ideal. No one will check the corrupted zones…"
"Agreed. We move at dawn."
They disappeared into the fog.
Zane didn't move.
He didn't wave.
He didn't care.
He just muttered, "Yeah. You kids go play heroes. I'm busy… surviving."
And then he took a deep breath, tore part of his own coat, and began building a one-man shelter under the roots using sticks, leaves, and questionable insect parts.
"Rule 7 of Hollow survival," he whispered like a Discovery Channel narrator. "Trust no one. Hide from everything. And never poop where you eat."
He sat down inside his new hideout. Cold. Tired.
But alive.
Barely.
Then—
A branch snapped nearby.
His eyes snapped open.
Silence.
And then—
CRK-K-KRREEEEEHHHHHH.
A high-pitched scream echoed from the darkness.
Zane peeked out.
In the distance…
A mirrorwalker.
A ghostly, skeletal beast with mirrored skin reflecting the twisted forest.
[Species: Mirrorwalker – Grade: A – Avoid at all costs.]
It was sniffing the trail of blood Zane had left behind.
And it was heading toward him.