First Trial (1)
[It's Kyl here, once again. I'm sure you're extremely bored, or dead, but hang tight folks. Now that 24 hours have passed, we will reduce the circumference of the barrier by 20%. Those who are outside will die instantly. Oh, also, gather at the Bryxton Tower in 6 hours if you don't want to die! Peace!]
Alex cringed at the words as he scratched the back of his neck. The cyan glint in his eyes flashed deeper as he noticed the barrier, which had previously been encompassing the entire city, become significantly tinier.
The screams of those who had not made it resounded throughout the area. The penalty for expulsion from zones or barriers was either death through meteors, lack of oxygen, or the worst of all… erasion of existence.
Alex felt pity, but he understood it was the cycle of life. Death was imminent, and one had to die for another's salvation. He was not blinded by modern fantasies, as there was no such thing as equality or even mercy in apocalyptic worlds.
Sighing, he bolted through the streets of Vancouver at alarming speeds that not even the fastest humans before the apocalypse could match. As if he were a natural predator, Alex slaughtered all monsters he encountered, who couldn't even gaze at the boy with confident eyes.
It was as if the devil had ascended from the underworld. Some humans who managed to catch a glimpse of the boy were sent chills down their spines as they struggled to breathe due to his enormous pressure.
Cyan energy. Cyan was the basic representation of mana that everyone had when they first went through reconstruction. The color was not unique in any way and was a prerequisite to developing your own color of mana. In fact, cyan was a very impure version of mana, while white was the purest and was considered attributeless.
Cyan energy radiated around Alex as he maintained the augmentation of his body. Emitting or utilizing mana in a long-range battle was impossible since his newly developed body was rigid in terms of the flow of mana.
As Alex kept hunting, five and a half hours quickly passed. The entire city was now dyed in blood, whether it was red or black.
"As expected, I won't be able to get more Stones of Magikos for a long time," Alex concluded after having hunted several dozens of monsters. 127. That was the number of Stones of Soma he had now absorbed. Power flowed through his body like an overflowing stream of water.
Alex now had the strength to rival the cat he had previously fought with low difficulty. Although he would sustain some injuries, if they fought now, Alex would be confident of winning.
As he bolted towards the Tower of Bryxton, he noticed his speed had doubled. With eyes wide open, he praised himself for having reached such a level in only a little more than a day.
Skrrrr!
Alex slid to a stop as he stood before the Tower of Bryxton once again. He glanced at the city now lathered in blood with a deadpan expression before gently pushing the door to the entrance. As soon as he entered, his ears were bombarded with screams and laughter, as if it were a local amusement park.
Only when he looked at the condition of the place did he understand what was happening. There were no less than five thousand inside the building, and the number was decreasing rapidly.
Some tortured others, while some outright murdered them. Having lived a life of comfort, no one was able to adapt except those with tremendous mental fortitude. Elderly people were slaughtered left and right by youths and middle-aged people.
It wasn't intentional, however. It was just how things had turned out. The psychological stress placed upon them and the death of their loved ones without warning. It would turn just about anyone into a psychopath.
Alex's eyes landed on two people of the opposite sex who seemed to be lovers. He only stared as the couple faced off against a group of teenagers in an attempt to survive. The teenagers held pocket knives in both hands, while the couple held a measly cast iron skillet and a mop.
Alex shook his head in disbelief, somehow pitying while also mocking the couple for their stupidity. Taking his eyes off the battle, he quickly spotted a gang of men isolated from the others.
He counted about 140 men dressed in almost the same attire, standing behind what seemed to be a delinquent or a teen rebel. The teen wore gray sweatpants and a white tank top with a teal jacket hanging on his waist. He had a cigarette in his mouth and a proper dagger in his hand.
The people behind him carried guns. Alex raised an eyebrow as he stared at the gang, nodding in acknowledgement at their ability to adapt to such an unexpected event.
Finally, his eyes landed on the person he had wanted to find, Maxwell. The boy stood in the opposite corner of the gang and had a distant expression on his face. He seemed unaware of his surroundings, which made Alex frown subtly. It felt as if Alex were his teacher.
The boy had changed clothes. He now wore loose, cotton pants and what seemed to be a medieval tunic. His attire seemed to represent warriors from fantasy novels. Alex scrunched his eyebrows before inwardly muttering, 'Cool taste in clothes… I guess?'
Alex quickly headed towards the boy, approaching him in an instant before leaning on the wall, parallel to him. Maxwell turned to look at Alex before nodding in acknowledgement. He then returned to his 'zone'.
Alex quickly became perplexed by this seemingly casual behavior. 'Even the most flexible people weren't this quick to adapt. It's a pity he died early back then.'
Alex believed that if Maxwell had survived the initial stages of the tutorial, Telos Dou Dromou would have been met with an unexpected variable. It was composure humans could not bring out in such a situation, even if one had discarded their emotions.
"It seems you've gotten stronger," Maxwell noted, taking a glance at the boy that stood beside him. From his perspective, Alex was only a high-schooler at most.
"Well, that's a given," Alex responded. "But it seems you've completed the task. You've exceeded my expectations."
"Well, you did save my life, so I guess that's a given," Maxwell shrugged. Alex had quickly noticed that Maxwell had consumed 40 Stones of Soma, drastically surpassing his expectations.
The two did not speak for a short while as the atmosphere got awkward. Alex and Maxwell observed the slaughter that occurred in the vast room that did not exist before the apocalypse. Previously, the tower's ground floor could only support a hundred people, but the capacity had increased to at least ten thousand.
The elderly and children died left and right with no one to rescue them. This wasn't a world where a goody-two-shoes superhero would come along saving humans for satisfaction. This was a world where even water was precious, and people would go to extreme lengths such as killing sprees to obtain it.
Speaking of water, many people did not have food, and only those who had acted quickly had been able to gather consumables. It was to the point where even if someone with little to no strength managed to survive the slaughter, they would inevitably die due to starvation or dehydration.
As Alex scanned the room, he noticed the leader of the gang, the teen who was smoking cigarettes, was approaching him. No, more specifically, he was approaching Maxwell with a goofy grin plastered over his face.
Alex reached for his newly obtained, crimson sword. However, before he could pull it out, his hand was obstructed by the touch of another palm.
Maxwell, emptiness in his dark eyes, shook his head as he prevented Alex from unsheathing his weapon.
"I'll take care of this."