F-BLOCK TO FLOOR ONE
1707 Words
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The fog on Floor 2 didn’t feel like fog.
It felt like breathing in glass.
Enma couldn’t see three steps ahead. The white swallowed the lights, the walls, even his own feet. Somewhere in it, water was dripping. Somewhere else, something was laughing.
*TRINITY MAGES. SYNCHRONIZED CASTERS.*
His wrist device pulsed. *CRIMSON SYNC: 0%*
Good. He needed to keep it low. Aoi’s words were still in his head. _“At 60% you stop hearing me.”_
_“Then don’t listen to her,”_ the King whispered. _“Listen to me. I’ll make them hurt.”_
Enma didn’t answer. He moved.
Step. Stop. Listen.
The laugh came again. Childlike. From the left.
He turned. A shape moved in the fog. Tall. Thin. Robes that dragged on the ground. Three of them. Always three.
The Trinity.
“Visitor,” one voice said. Female.
“Bleeding,” the second said. Male.
“Delicious,” the third finished. Neither.
They didn’t walk. They glided. And when they got close, the fog around them turned red.
The first mage raised her hands. Blue fire lit her palms.
Enma moved.
He was not fast. He was used to being hit. So he let the fire graze his shoulder to get inside her guard. Pain. 5%. The red lines flickered.
He grabbed her wrist and twisted. Bone cracked. She screamed.
The other two reacted instantly. That was the "synchronized" part. One threw a spear of ice. The other dropped the floor out from under him.
Enma fell.
He hit stone 4 meters down. Air left his lungs. 10%. The scars burned.
Above, the ice spear shot down.
He rolled. It missed his head by an inch and buried itself in the stone.
*CRIMSON SYNC: 15%*
The King was grinning now. _“Yes. More. They’re afraid.”_
Enma stood. Blood in his mouth. The three mages were floating above the hole now, looking down at him.
“Interesting,” the male one said.
“Strong,” the female one said.
“Tasty,” the third said.
Then they attacked together.
Fire from the left. Ice from the right. The ground under him turned to spikes.
Enma did the only thing he could. He ran forward.
The spikes missed. The fire and ice collided behind him and exploded. The shockwave threw him into a wall.
*CRIMSON SYNC: 25%*
He could feel it now. The heat. The clarity. Pain wasn’t pain anymore. It was fuel.
The mages descended. This time they weren’t playing. They linked hands. Their eyes glowed the same color.
“Null,” they said in unison. “Be erased.”
A sphere of white light formed between them. Bigger than a house. It hummed.
Enma looked at it. Then at his hands. The red was up to his elbows.
Rule 1: Don’t die.
He charged.
The sphere fired.
He met it with both fists.
The impact was soundless. For one second, white and red fought each other. Then the red won.
The sphere shattered. The backlash threw the mages across the room.
Enma didn’t stop. He was on them before they hit the ground. 35%. 40%.
One punch. Mage down.
Second punch. Mage down.
Third—
A hand grabbed his wrist.
Aoi.
Her fingers were cold. Her face was furious.
“Stop,” she said. Quiet. Deadly.
Enma blinked. The red in his vision cleared. The third mage was on the ground, coughing blood. Alive.
“40%,” Aoi said. “You promised.”
“I—” Enma looked at his hands. They were shaking again. “They were going to—”
“I know,” Aoi cut him off. She pulled him back. “But if you hit 50% here, they’ll send the Hunters. And then Jin dies.”
The name hit harder than any punch.
Enma let the Sync go. 40% to 30% to 15%. Cold flooded back in. He almost collapsed.
Aoi caught him.
“i***t,” she muttered, but she didn’t let go. “Come on. The floor is cleared.”
The arena lights came on. The fog burned away.
*WINNER: KUROGANE ENMA. TIME: 3 MINUTES 41 SECONDS.*
The crowd was quiet. Too quiet. They hadn’t seen a D-Class beat mages like that.
A door opened. Aoi half-dragged, half-carried him through.
In the hallway, she shoved the bottle from earlier into his hand. The suppressant.
“Drink it.”
He did. It tasted like metal and mint. The red lines faded to almost nothing. 8%.
Aoi leaned against the wall and exhaled. “You’re going to get us both killed.”
“You came in,” Enma said.
“Yeah. Because you’re an i***t who doesn’t know when to stop.” She looked at him. “And because no one’s ever fought like that before.”
Enma didn’t answer. He was thinking of the mages’ faces. Afraid. Of him.
That was new.
---
They didn’t go back to his room.
Aoi took him somewhere else. An elevator that went down. Far down. Past Floor 1. Past the lobby. Past even the maintenance levels.
The doors opened to F-Block.
The smell hit him first. Rust. Sweat. 4000 people in a space made for 500.
It was exactly the same. And completely different.
Because now he was walking in through the front. With an S-Class.
People stopped. Stared. Some bowed. Most just looked away. D-Class learned fast: don’t look at nobles.
“Show off,” Enma muttered.
Aoi smirked. “Needed to make a point. They don’t touch you anymore.”
They walked through the narrow alleys between buildings. Children with no shoes. Old men with no fingers. Women selling water for credits.
And then she stopped.
In front of a building that was somehow even worse than the others. Paint peeling. Door hanging off one hinge.
“This is where you lived?” Aoi asked.
“Enma?”
The voice was small.
Enma turned.
*HANA.*
She was 14. Thin. Hair cut short with a knife, probably. Gray dress with patches. Big eyes. She was holding a bowl of something that smelled like rice.
She looked at Aoi. Then at Enma. Then at the red scars on his neck.
“You’re alive,” she whispered.
Enma nodded. He didn’t know what else to do.
Hana ran forward and hugged him. Hard. She smelled like soap and smoke.
“I thought they culled you,” she said into his jacket. “I thought—”
“I’m fine,” Enma said. Awkward. He didn’t know how to do this. “I’m fine.”
Aoi was watching. Expression unreadable.
Hana pulled back. “Who’s this?”
“Aoi Kazehara,” Aoi said. “S-Class. His handler.”
Hana’s face closed off. “Oh. A noble.”
Aoi didn’t react. “I’m leaving in 5 minutes. Talk to him.”
She walked a few steps away, giving them space but not leaving.
Hana looked at Enma. “Floor 1?”
“I won.”
“Floor 2?”
“I won that too.”
Hana’s eyes filled. “You’re really doing it. You’re climbing.”
“I have to. For Jin.”
At Jin’s name, Hana flinched. “They took him, didn’t they? After the cull.”
Enma’s jaw tightened. “Not yet. But they will.”
Hana was quiet for a long time. Then she held out the bowl. “Eat. You look terrible.”
Enma took it. It was warm. Actual rice. Maybe with vegetables. He hadn’t had that in years.
“You shouldn’t give me your food,” he said.
“I’m not,” Hana said. “I’m giving it to the person who’s going to get us all out of here.”
She said it so simply. Like it was obvious.
Enma stared at her. “I don’t know if I can.”
“You already did more than anyone else,” Hana said. “You stood up. That’s enough for now.”
Aoi cleared her throat. “Time.”
Enma set the bowl down. “I have to go.”
“I know,” Hana said. She reached up and touched the scar on his cheek. Gently. “Come back human, Enma. Not as their weapon. Okay?”
Enma nodded. He couldn’t speak.
He and Aoi walked back to the elevator. No one said anything until the doors closed.
“You and her,” Aoi said finally.
“Grew up together,” Enma said. “Her brother died in a cull last year.”
Aoi nodded. “She’s pretty.”
“She’s D-Class.”
“So are you.”
The elevator went up in silence.
Back in his room, Aoi stopped him at the door.
“Listen,” she said. “Floor 3 is tomorrow. It’s a team fight. You’ll have allies.”
“I don’t need—”
“You do,” Aoi interrupted. “Because the Academy is watching now. And if you keep winning alone, they’ll think you’re too dangerous to let climb.”
She looked at him. “And Enma? Stay under 50%. Please.”
She left.
Enma sat on the bed. The suppressant was wearing off. The red was itching under his skin.
He pulled out the bottle. Still half full.
_“Don’t,”_ the King whispered. _“You don’t need it. You need me.”_
Enma put the cap back on.
Rule 3: Don’t forget.
He thought of Hana’s face. Of Jin running. Of Aoi saying _“Come back human.”_
He closed his eyes.
Tomorrow: Floor 3. Team fight.
Tonight: Try to sleep without dreaming of red.
---
On the 80th floor, Kuroda watched the footage of Floor 2 again.
The moment Enma grabbed the sphere. The moment Aoi stopped him.
“Emotional anchor,” Kuroda murmured. “Dangerous.”
He pressed a button on his desk.
“Move up the brother’s transfer. I want Jin Kurogane in containment by the end of the week.”
A voice answered. “Yes, Headmaster.”
Kuroda smiled at the screen where Enma was sleeping.
“Let’s see how high you climb when you have something to lose, boy.”
The screen flickered. Floor 3. Team Arena.
Loading.
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- Writer
