End of First test

The scorching sun cast long, distorted shadows across the cracked desert floor. Johan's hawk-like eyes scanned the landscape, observing the aftermath of the deadly encounters other contestants had faced. Bodies sprawled on the sands, abandoned card fragments scattered around them - remnants of battles lost.

'Strength and intelligence...that's what it takes to survive this desert,' Johan thought, his gaze falling on a contestant fighting off a sand serpent, their movements sluggish and panicked. 'But that alone won't be enough. Strategy, quick thinking, adaptability - that's what'll set me apart.'

His path crossed with many hazards, each more dangerous than the last. Desert scorpions, sand serpents, even quicksand pits - all deadly, all relentless. But each encounter only served to hone Johan's survival skills further. He commanded his ghoul skillfully, combining attacks, defensive maneuvers, and environmental advantages to overcome these challenges.

'Keep them guessing,' Johan mused during one such encounter, manipulating his ghoul to move a sand serpent toward a quicksand pit. 'Keep changing the strategy...adapt, evolve. That's how you stay one step ahead.'

...

The desert's fiery breath was replaced by a cold bite as night descended. Shadows stretched long and eerie, the relentless sun replaced by a billion cold stars. The temperature plummeted rapidly, a chilling contrast to the scorching day. Johan's teeth chattered slightly, his body rebelling against the sudden shift.

'Adapt or perish,' he thought, wrapping his thin cloak tighter around him. 'Never let your guard down.'

His eyes, once straining against the glare of the desert sun, now squinted in the inky blackness. Shapes shifted and moved in the shadows, nocturnal creatures of the desert awakening from their daytime slumber. Johan's ghoul, a silent sentinel, prowled close by, its eyes glowing eerily in the darkness.

'Night predators. More challenges,' Johan reflected, the pulse in his veins a constant drum of anticipation. 'Keep your senses sharp. Stay alive.'

His hand instinctively clutched at the deck of cards in his pocket. These inanimate objects, imbued with power, were his lifeline, his only defense in this treacherous world. Johan was acutely aware of how finite they were, how precious. Each summoning could mean the difference between life and death.

The assessment, he mused, was indeed a deadly game of survival. He remembered the shock that had rippled through him when he'd first heard the mortality rate. Sixty-five percent. More than half of them wouldn't make it. Back then, it was a distant, horrifying fact. Now, it was a lived reality. A harsh truth.

'Death is a constant companion here,' he acknowledged, his voice a whisper lost in the howling desert wind. 'But I will not join its ranks. Not today.'

As the cold desert night wore on, Johan's mind drifted back to his original goal. To survive. To succeed. To become a Card Master. The obstacles were harsh, relentless, testing him at every turn, but he would not yield.

'Failure is not an option,' Johan's thought echoed defiantly within him. 'I've come too far to back down now. I've faced too much to give in to fear.'

The image of the Card Master title floated in his mind, a beacon of hope in this dark, desolate world. It was a symbol of power, of status, of triumph. And Johan yearned for it. Craved it. He would attain it, no matter the cost.

'Strength and wits, these are my weapons,' he reminded himself. 'Fear and doubt, my enemies. This desert is my battlefield, and I will emerge victorious.'

In the vast, indifferent desert, Johan's figure seemed impossibly small, almost swallowed by the magnanimity of the surroundings. Yet, there was an undeniable aura of determination around him, a tenacious spirit that refused to be vanquished. The odds might be against him, the challenges may keep coming, but Johan was ready to fight, to survive, and to prevail.

As the moon hung high in the star-strewn sky, the lone figure moved on. Each step was a testament to his will, each breath a reaffirmation of his resolve. He had faced the desert's brutal trials, survived its harsh conditions, and emerged stronger. He was among the strongest, the smartest, and he would prove it. Against all odds, Johan was a survivor.

...

The next day,

Under the relentless desert sun, a glimmer of hope finally broke through the seemingly never-ending horizon. Johan squinted against the glare, his heart pounding with a mixture of relief and anticipation as the endpoint of the desert course finally came into view. His worn face split into a weary smile, the lines of exhaustion momentarily softening.

'This is it,' Johan thought, 'The end is finally in sight.'

But as he began to traverse the final mile, he realized this would be no easy stroll. The sands beneath his feet seemed to burn hotter, the desert air felt more suffocating, and the silence was deafening. His body, already pushed to its limits, screamed in protest with every step he took. His mind, however, spurred him on.

'Just a little bit more,' he whispered to himself, each syllable tasting of grit and determination.

The ever-present hazards of the desert didn't wane, as if throwing their last challenge at Johan. A sudden sand whirl rose a few feet away, while the occasional desert lizard still slithered ominously close. Even in these last stretches, the desert refused to be a passive spectator, each of its threats a reminder of the perilous journey Johan had endured.

Johan's skin was blistered from the unforgiving sun, his muscles screamed with fatigue, his mouth tasted of dust and thirst. But his spirit? It was unbroken, his resolve unshaken. For each grueling step he took brought him closer to the endpoint, closer to his goal. His body might have been on the verge of collapse, but his spirit soared with the sight of the finish line.

...

Johan's final steps across the sandy finish line were met with a silent acknowledgement from the sparse gathering of survivors. There was no grand celebration, no cheerful applause. Instead, there was a shared sense of solemn respect and understanding, an unspoken pact among the survivors.

Despite the biting fatigue, Johan straightened his stance, holding his head high. After all, he was the odd one out, the only ordinary person amidst Tier 9 Card Masters. Yet he had endured the same grueling desert, battled the same monstrous creatures, and emerged, like them, a survivor. All thanks to his Tier 9 ghoul.

But, as he scanned the gathered faces, he found many missing. 'Where's the arrogant platinum-haired contestant?' Johan mused, realizing he hadn't seen him since their encounter.

His heart sank as he noted the conspicuous gaps in the crowd, the silences where laughter and boasting used to fill the air. Johan knew, even without having to count, that a significant number of competitors hadn't made it through the desert course. A chilling reminder of the cruel reality of the test, a testament to its 65% mortality rate.

The desert had claimed its victims, but it had also given birth to survivors, and Johan was one of them.

As Johan found a quiet corner amidst the weary survivors, he found himself deep in thought. The desert's cruel trials, the relentless monsters, the dehydration, the treacherous sandstorm - all played back in his mind like a harrowing movie reel. There were moments, many moments, when death had loomed a breath away, yet he had survived, over and over again.

'Was it luck? Skill? Or my ghoul?' Johan pondered, his fingers tracing the outline of the summoning card. He thought of the competitors who hadn't been as fortunate, their faces fading into the winds of the desert. Their fates were a somber reminder of the unforgiving nature of the path he had chosen. A heavy sigh escaped his lips.

Just then, a hush fell over the crowd as Zekke, the instructor, made his way to the front. His expression was unreadable as he began to announce the results of the first test. "Out of the initial 421 participants," Zekke began, his voice echoing across the silent gathering, "only 200 remains. The desert has claimed almost 51% of the competitors."

A collective gasp filled the air. The reality of their situation settling in, the survivors could only look at each other in grim understanding. This was their world now, a world where only the strongest and the smartest survived. Johan felt a shiver run down his spine. The brutal reality of the assessment was laid bare, but so was his resolve. He had survived, and he would continue to do so.

The whispers reached Johan like faint echoes - murmurs of shock, disbelief, and a tinge of morbid satisfaction. His attention focused on a cluster of survivors sharing hushed conversation. He caught fragments of their words, piecing them together like a grim jigsaw. "The arrogant one... and his group... swallowed by the sandstorm... trampled by the giant monsters..."

'Reed, the one who wanted to make me his stepping stone, didn't survive.' The realization hit Johan like a punch in the gut. Reed, the arrogant contestant, and his three accomplices - all silenced by the ruthless desert. Johan could still remember the fear in their eyes when they faced his ghoul, and now, they were just names, added to the list of those claimed by the desert's wrath.

'Survival isn't a matter of arrogance or intimidation. It's a game of endurance, strategy... and respect for the danger we face,' Johan mused. He felt a chill run down his spine, despite the desert's scorching heat. Death was a harsh, unforgiving reality in their world - a reality that was becoming clearer by the minute.

Closing his eyes, Johan took a deep breath. 'Surviving is just the beginning,' he acknowledged to himself. 'The path to becoming a Card Master is fraught with even greater challenges.' His fingers clenched tightly around the summoning card, knuckles white against the worn material.