BACK DURING THE CHALLENGE
Lucen's mind: Wait… something's wrong. The door appeared and opened before the instructions. Then the message "Step through the door that has appeared before you and survive," with a 20-minute timer. If the task were only to step through, it would've been complete the moment I entered. But the word "survive" adds a condition that extends after the action. That means stepping through isn't the goal, it's the trigger. Survival being mentioned implies danger after the step. So if survival isn't guaranteed, then the door isn't the answer. It's the bait.
The 20-minute timer was set as a time limit, there's no explicit rule stating that failure comes from simply not going through the door. That implies survival doesn't hinge on entering at all. So if I just stay put and let the timer run out, I should still make it through.
"Lukas... do you remember what he said about those harrowing intellectual trials?" Lucen's voice was low, tense.
His gaze locked onto Lukas's with an urgency that stirred unease.
"Something about this feels wrong."
Without waiting for a response, Lucen reached out, gripping Lukas's wrists tightly.
"I agree. We shouldn't go through that door," Lukas said firmly.
SKIP...
...
AFTER THE CHALLENGE
New text flickered into view above them:
Congratulations to those who resisted the temptation and did not enter the door. You have successfully completed the challenge. Those who stepped through it perished the instant they crossed the door.
Survivors Remaining: 4,986,244,292
Total Participants: 5,001,248,037
Confirmed Deaths: 15,003,745
"It was a trap."
The voices came from the crowd, hushed and shaken.
Survivors spoke among themselves, the reality of what had just happened settling in like ash.
"If I hadn't stopped to think," someone said, voice trembling, "I would've died again. And this time, I wouldn't have come back."
"Yeah... look at the death toll. Fifteen million. They didn't know the door was a trap."
Above them, the text displaying the number of casualties flickered once more before fading into nothingness.
The door was now vanishing slowly, its light bleeding away into the air.
Lucen stood in silence, arms crossed tightly over his chest.
His jaw was set, eyes fixed on the ground.
Then, without a word, he reached out and tapped Lukas on the shoulder.
Lucen turned to Lukas, his voice low but urgent.
"Did you realize it was a trap before I warned you something felt off?"
Lukas met his gaze, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips, calm and steady as if he had known all along.
Lukas spoke with a calm, steady voice as he faced Lucen.
"The real answer was simply to wait," he said.
"The twenty minutes had to pass and nothing more. That door was never a guarantee of survival, and stepping through it wasn't a requirement to succeed. Even if you never went inside, you wouldn't have failed."
His words hung in the air, quiet yet undeniable, cutting through the cheers of the crowd that had just finished the first challenge.
The faces around them were lit with relief and triumph, but Lukas's gaze remained steady, his expression unreadable.
Behind the joy of victory, a sobering truth had been revealed that hinted at the deeper cruelty of the trials still to come.
"Yeah… I think most people understood," Lucen said quietly, his gaze falling.
"Everyone except those who ran in without a second thought."
His voice was heavy with sorrow, the weight of the truth pressing down on him.
"Fifteen million souls… gone. Just like that. This place really is hell."
He wasn't angry, just hollow, the kind of emptiness that comes when horror meets helplessness.
Moments later, the world around them began to shift once more.
Without warning, everyone was pulled away.
No light, no sound, just a sudden wrench in space.
When the disorientation passed, Lucen and Lukas found themselves in a new room, along with two strangers they didn't recognize.
The space was quiet, sterile, and cold.
Four identical blue beds stood neatly in each corner and were untouched.
At the center of the room, a rectangular silver table gleamed under the dim lighting, its surface smooth and clinical.
Four metallic chairs surrounded it, one on each side, positioned with unnerving precision, as if they'd been waiting.
There was no announcement, no voice explaining what came next.
As Lucen and the others settled in, some sitting on the beds, Lukas resting their hands on the smooth surface of the table, a soft glow began to shimmer across the wall.
Slowly, luminous text formed, casting a gentle light across the chamber.
"Welcome to the Resting Chamber."
"This space is provided for all survivors who have successfully completed the challenge. The door you see does not lead outside, it simply connects to a secondary room designated for personal hygiene. There is no need to bathe, the main room has been specially designed to cleanse your body automatically."
"If you wish to brush your teeth, comb your hair, or attend to other personal needs, the secondary room is fully equipped. It contains four private toilets, each with its own door, a large mirror, sinks for washing hands or face, and facilities for cleaning utensils. You'll also find plates, glasses, and all necessary dining tools."
"The beds and tables in this room are indestructible. Should any damage occur, they will restore themselves automatically. You have 24 hours to rest, recover, and eat. Meals will begin appearing shortly on the rectangular table from the main room. If you prefer to eat privately, you may take your food into the second room."
The message faded, leaving behind a deep, comfortable silence.
For the first time since entering this merciless place, the survivors were offered something that felt almost human.
A minute later, without warning, an array of exquisite dishes began to appear one by one atop the long rectangular table.
Each plate was placed in a container so ornate it looked as though it belonged in a royal banquet.
Gilded edges, polished surfaces, and fragrances that stirred forgotten hunger.
The tension that had gripped the survivors slowly began to ease.
Lucen and the others, still reeling from the first trial, exchanged names and tentative smiles.
Introductions turned into conversation, and conversation into laughter, cautious but genuine.
As they ate together, a fragile sense of camaraderie began to form born of shared survival.
Surrounded by warm food and brief peace, they allowed themselves to rest.
For the next 24 hours, the looming dread of what lay ahead gave way to silence, comfort, and the rarest thing in this world: a shelter, warmth, and a moment to breathe.
...
As Lucen stood at the toilet, the sudden blare of an alarm shattered the silence of the Resting Chamber.
A cold, mechanical voice echoed through the room, reverberating off the sterile walls.
"Attention. A new challenge will begin in thirty seconds."
The words struck like a knife.
Lucen froze, a chill crawling up his spine.
In a flash of cold light, Lucen found himself in a strange, unfamiliar room.
The walls glowed with a soft, eerie blue, their surfaces smooth and seamless like something out of a future he didn't recognize.
The air buzzed faintly with electricity, and in front of him, a large screen flickered to life.
Text appeared:
Section 1 — 2nd Challenge
Objective: Answer 100 questions correctly, working together with your clone.
Failure to answer all questions will result in death.
Time Limit: 1 Hour.
Lucen's heart pounded in his chest.
Beside him, a figure emerged, identical in every detail.
From the shape of his eyes to the curve of his jaw, it was an exact replica of Lucen, flawless and eerily precise.
But something was wrong.
The way it moved was unnatural, almost mechanical.
When Lucen raised a hand, the clone mirrored him perfectly, as if his reflection had stepped out of a glass surface and taken form in the world.
He blinked in confusion. "Huh?"
The clone echoed him instantly, the same tone, the same rhythm. "Huh?"
A chill ran down Lucen's spine.
This wasn't just a copy, it was him, bound to his every action and every word.
Lucen squinted at the glowing text that had just appeared on the screen.
"1 + 1 = ?"
A question so simple it felt insulting.
He let out a faint breath, then answered aloud.
"Two."
At that exact moment, his clone echoed him, same tone, same timing, same movement.
A perfect imitation.
But then, a harsh beep echoed through the chamber.
The screen flashed red.
"Incorrect answer."
Lucen froze.
His mind reeled.
It wasn't the question that was wrong, it was something else.
Something deeper.
The answer had been correct… so why did it feel like he'd just made a fatal mistake?
For the past 32 minutes, Lucen had answered only 70 out of 100 questions.
Each one, he knew with absolute certainty, had been correct.
Yet the screen marked them all as wrong.
The words that had appeared before the challenge began still echoed in his mind:
"Failure to answer all questions will result in death."
Time was slipping away.
He could feel it, each second ticking like a drop of water in a silent room.
And still, he remained alive.
"Why?" he whispered, staring at the screen with dry, burning eyes.
"Why am I still here? I've already failed, haven't I?"
Every time I answered with what should have been correct, the screen told me I was wrong. So I tested it, fed it intentionally wrong answers, even the exact opposite of the correct answer... Still wrong...
According to the screen, everything I submit was incorrect. But the rule was clear, if I don't get all 100 right, I die. And yet, I'm still alive. That means the problem isn't with my answers. It means something else is broken. Either the question lies, or the logic behind it does. And if the rules don't hold, then maybe they were never real to begin with.
Lucen's eyes flicked to the clock.
27 minutes left.
The countdown echoed in his mind like a distant drumbeat.
He turned to the next question on the screen, already knowing the answer.
Yet, instead of answering, he crossed his arms and lowered his gaze, a storm of hesitation brewing inside him.
Then, his eyes shifted, drawn almost unconsciously, to the clone beside him.
His breath caught.
His heart skipped a beat.
Of course.
The realization struck like lightning.
It was the clone.