Chapter 667: First Phase (Part I)
The air inside the barracks began to change slowly, as if a cold draft had seeped between the stone walls.
More footsteps echoed down the hallway, and the door to house 24 creaked again. A man entered.
He wasn’t a warrior like the others. His rigid posture, the dark blue clothes marked with golden symbols, and the medallion hanging from his chest betrayed that he was part of the tournament organization. He resembled, at one point, the clerk who had registered them, but this one seemed more serious, more… imposing.
The simple act of crossing the threshold altered the atmosphere. The laughter subsided, the conversations ceased. Even the archer balancing arrows nearly dropped them.
His aura wasn’t oppressive like that of the woman Strax had seen in the square, but it was strong enough to silence a room of warriors.
He stopped in the center, his gaze roaming each face as if memorizing names and bodies. And then, in a deep voice that echoed throughout the room, he announced:
“Order of the organization: do not touch anything. Not tables, not weapons other than your own, not even walls.” His expression didn’t change. “You just have to wait.”
The silence stretched for an uncomfortable second. Some of the young men glanced at each other, confused, but no one dared protest.
Strax, leaning against the wall, smiled sideways. He leaned discreetly closer to Samira and murmured to her alone:
“It seems they really don’t want us to touch anything.”
The golden glow in his eyes betrayed that this observation was not a simple comment, but a warning. There was something hidden in that place, something that was not to be disturbed.
Samira merely lifted her chin, without taking her eyes off the evaluator. She didn’t respond immediately.
The man looked at the group once more, made a brief note on a piece of parchment he took from his bag, and then turned to leave.
The door closed behind him, and the room returned to a silent space filled with suspicious people.
Time passed. The sound of the warriors’ heavy breathing was all that filled the room. No new instructions. No sign of anything beginning. Just waiting.
Samira remained quiet, sitting on the stone bench, her hand resting on the scabbard of her sword. Her amber eyes roamed the room again, but now there was a shadow of unease in her gaze.
Inside, the question echoed like an insistent knock:
“What are we doing here?”
The silence inside House 24 felt heavy, almost suffocating. Samira remained seated, her sword resting at her side, her eyes roaming the contestants scattered throughout the room. Finally, she broke the silence with a whisper filled with curiosity and unease:
“Strax… what’s going on here? What do they want?” Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Could it be just a dueling test?” A challenge where everyone will choose to fight against each other?
Strax didn’t answer immediately. His golden eyes were fixed on something more specific, a small, almost imperceptible inscription at the base of a painting hanging on the side wall of the room. The painting depicted a vibrant scene: human figures in precise combat stances, strong features, almost drawing attention to their strength, agility, and discipline.
“The match begins at the entrance,” he murmured to himself, barely audible. The words emerged as he approached the painting and examined the base more closely, where a few smaller characters were engraved. The ink looked old, with small wear that almost made it impossible to read, but the meaning was unmistakable.
Samira approached, tilting her head to read over his shoulder. “‘The match begins at the entrance’?” he repeated, his voice thick with doubt. “Seriously… are they saying the tournament begins as soon as we enter?”
Strax lifted one corner of his mouth in a slight, enigmatic smile. “I see.” His voice was calm, almost joking, but there was a predatory glint in his eyes that showed he was processing something deeper.
Samira frowned in confusion. “Understand what?” she asked, taking a step closer. “It seems like just a warning… but a warning about what? What kind of game begins at the entrance?”
He looked away from the inscription, keeping his eyes fixed on the painting as if he could glean more than the words said. Then he pointed to the painting with a subtle movement of his hand. “Don’t you feel there’s something wrong with this painting?” he asked, his voice low, almost challenging.
Samira raised an eyebrow. “Something strange?” she replied, leaning in to observe more closely, trying to understand what Strax saw. The painting was intricate, almost mesmerizing. The figures in combat stances seemed perfectly proportioned, but there was something… off.
“Look,” Strax began, discreetly pointing to a detail in the lower right corner of the painting. “Look at these lines. Look at how the ground is drawn, how the light and shadow are positioned. It’s unnatural. It’s not just depicting a fight… it’s showing something more.”
Samira frowned, her attention now fully absorbed. “But what?” she murmured. “It’s just a painting… of martial arts, perhaps, or something. I can’t see anything that indicates danger.”
Strax held up a finger, interrupting her with a subtle gesture. “That’s exactly where you’re wrong.” His voice was calm, firm, charged with authority. “Almost the entire painting is correct, too correct.” But notice the figure in the corner, the warrior who seems to be stepping out of the door. The perspective of the door, his posture… there’s an intention behind it.
Samira tilted her head, trying to follow. “Intention?” she murmured. “What do you mean? It’s just a painting of a traditional fight…”
“It’s not just that,” Strax replied, his eyes fixed on the art. “It’s a warning. They want you to see it… but not directly. It’s subtle. The position of the figure, the angle of the light—everything points to the entrance, exactly where we came from. The match, somehow, begins the moment you step into the room. And everyone here… is being watched before they even touch a weapon.”
Samira stared at him, speechless for a moment. Her mind worked quickly, processing the sense of danger mixed with Strax’s predatory intuition. “So… they don’t just want tests of physical prowess…” she finally said. “They want to see how we react from the moment we enter?”
“Exactly,” Strax murmured, pushing his cloak away from his shoulder to adjust the position of his sword, his eyes never leaving the painting. “This place is a test from the first step. Those who don’t read the signs can be lost before they even attempt to fight.”
Samira sighed, lowering her eyes and crossing her arms. “So that’s why he didn’t let anyone touch anything…” she said, remembering the man who warned about the prohibition. “They’re monitoring every movement, every reaction… they’re just watching.”
Strax inclined his head toward her, his expression relaxed, but his eyes alert. “And it’s best that we do the same. Wait. Analyze. Don’t rush.”