Path of Death: Awakening
Chapter 38: City’s Trial

Chapter 38: City’s Trial

Morning arrived in shades of grey silence. No birds. No urban murmurs. It was as if the city had held its breath—just to watch them.

When Fade opened his eyes, the first thing he felt was... stillness.

No threat. No internal alarm. But no peace either. Just... absence.

Light seeped in through the window, casting a pale glow across the misty sky. It was neither warm nor cold. It simply existed.

Fade sat at the edge of the bed and rubbed his eyes. Instincts from the night still hovered in his mind, like fading echoes.

Zeyna was still asleep, her eyelids fluttering in REM. Arven lay next to his weapon, snoring lightly. Kaela had already woken and was seated by the window, silently scanning her data device. Darin’s bed was empty—probably in the shower.

Fade took a deep breath.

Today... felt like a real day. And yet in this city, reality was always veiled in mist.

A knock. Then a soft mechanical click as the door opened.

Nail stepped in—gray coat, firm posture, eyes tired but unwavering.

"Get ready," he said calmly. "You’re being taken to the central unit. Evaluation first. Then, a decision."

Fade nodded. Zeyna blinked awake, quickly getting her bearings. Arven yawned while lacing up his boots.

"How far is this ’center’?" Kaela asked.

"Close enough to see," Nail replied, "but not so easy to reach."

"A test?" Darin asked, entering with a towel draped over his neck.

"Something like that," Nail said. "It’s not just what you do that matters here—but why."

They packed nothing. There was nothing to pack. What they carried now was no longer weight, but shadow—the echo of who they’d become.

As they stepped into the hallway, a different kind of silence followed. Not of fear. But of possibility.

Their footsteps made no echo. The floor, metallic in appearance, was silent underfoot. Some screens on the walls were blank; others showed abstract city maps. The colors were muted—but not chaotic. Everything was... placed.

Nail walked ahead, each step a steady metronome.

"Last Hope," he said suddenly, "looks like a fortress from the outside. But inside, there are layers."

"How many?" Darin asked.

"Four," Nail replied. "And you’re entering the second."

Kaela’s gaze skimmed across the wall codes. She didn’t raise her scanner—this zone was system-accessible, but only as much as needed. Not transparency—control.

"The outer shell," Nail said, motioning behind them, "is a place that created its own laws to survive. The strong endure. The rest rot. It wasn’t our choice."

Zeyna frowned. "Then whose was it?"

Nail glanced sideways. "The ones who didn’t choose."

The corridor widened. They reached a passage lit not by sun but a diffused white light. Above them, a floating hologram shimmered into view:

[INNER ZONE ACCESS – LEVEL 2 CLEARANCE GRANTED]

The doors opened—without sound.

And the world shifted.

The floor was still metal, but polished now. The walls were still grey—but interlaced with color: blue lines, yellow markers, green exit icons. People walked—uniformed, equipped, efficient.

All quiet. All focused.

"This is the inner district," Nail said. "Military and logistics operate here. Supplies, healthcare, communication, security—all converge."

Fade watched a patrol unit pass. Ten, maybe twenty people—same uniform, same pace... different eyes.

"You can see the Core from here," Nail added.

They climbed a platform. From its peak, a colossal tower stretched toward the center of the energy dome surrounding the city. It pierced the sky, wrapped in flickering grey-blue light.

"That is the Core," Nail said. "Source of resources, decisions, and protocols. Access is rare."

Zeyna leaned in. "What about the Fringe? Wasn’t it part of this too?"

Nail shrugged. "All of the city is part of the whole. But not all parts harmonize. We didn’t exile them. They made their choice."

Arven’s voice turned firm. "Some choices are made when there’s no other option."

Nail didn’t respond.

He just kept walking.

Kaela’s eyes flicked briefly to Fade’s shoulder. Fade said nothing. But in his face, the pulse of a silent system hummed.

The next doors opened slowly. Air shifted—cold, sterile, charged with static.

The floor was soft yet resilient, like plastic with muscle. Devices lined the walls. Sensors. Panels. Mechanisms. Everything was for watching.

Nail turned.

"This is Test Chamber 14. Combat-class individuals are assessed here. Your abilities, endurance, reflexes... all recorded."

Zeyna yawned. "Test? We skipping breakfast too?"

Kaela was sharper. "They’re not just collecting data on us. They’re stress-testing their system through us."

Fade didn’t speak. His eyes drifted upward, to a small lens in the corner—its red light pulsing gently.

A dark room. One light source—a crescent-shaped window facing the chamber. A one-way mirror.

A man stood with hands clasped behind him. Navy uniform. Polished. Left chest marked by a silver-black emblem—Last Hope’s Inner Security crest.

Commander Hales.

He didn’t blink.

"Do the data sets match?" he asked the technician. "Any anomaly?"

The technician nodded. "The system flagged most of them as statistically irrelevant. Except for one—the one who appears to be the leader... Fade."

Commander Hales kept his gaze on the screen.

The way Fade stood—calm yet alert, quietly synced with his team—It was clear he carried something beyond the system.

"His eyes," the commander muttered. "Still unsure of what they’ve chosen."

The technician asked, "Should we begin analyzing the rest of the group as well?"

"No," Hales replied. "First... let’s watch. Let’s see if they’re choosing Last Hope—or here to challenge it."

The group stepped into a wide open space. The floor beneath them trembled subtly. Kaela’s device activated on its own.

[Test Initiated: Individual Trait Assessment]

Mechanical clicks echoed above them. From the walls, cylindrical modules unfolded. Lights flickered. Spotlights burst to life, each locking onto a target.

Darin mumbled, "Is this supposed to feel like a theme park?"

"Or a coliseum," Arven muttered as he unwrapped his hands.

Fade took a single step. The lights followed. Then Zeyna. Then the rest. Each one summoned individually toward the center.

The floor panels shifted. New mechanisms replaced them.

"This might be fun," Zeyna whispered.

Kaela had already started decoding it. "The sensors are creating movement patterns. They’re testing real-time adaptation."

And so, the test began.

As they moved... A pair of eyes watched carefully from behind the one-way glass.

The chamber’s main lights dimmed, replaced by sharp, tracking whites. Each member was led into a separate section. Automatic barriers rose between them.

This wasn’t an exam. It was deconstruction—of who they were.

[System Observation Engaged – Stimulus-Based Reflex Evaluation]

[Fade]

He let his arms hang loosely at his sides. His eyes locked onto the glowing simulation orbs as they emerged from the wall.

In seconds, the lights started spinning, shifting around him in tight loops.

"This isn’t about speed. It’s about what I choose to focus on... and what I choose to ignore."

His fingers didn’t tremble. He sensed each signal before it even came. Chemosense worked silently in the background, filtering out irrelevant targets—feeding only the real ones to his mind.

One... Two... Eight targets. Zero mistakes.

[Zeyna]

Her chamber activated with sound emitters. Sonic blasts. Shrill tones. Flashes of overwhelming visuals.

Her task was to remain balanced amidst chaos.

"This isn’t about focus... It’s about not drowning in the noise."

Noise. Light. She tuned it out. With old fighter’s instincts, she planted her feet right—Loosened her arms. Flowed with the rhythm.

[Reflex Accuracy: 89% – Adaptation Speed: High]

[Kaela]

Her chamber was entirely different. Six holographic system panels floated before her, each pulsing with shifting algorithms.

"This isn’t a tech test. It’s a test of cognitive saturation. What I choose to see... and solve."

She didn’t use her hands. Just her eyes.

She cracked a three-step sequence in seconds. The fourth? She slowed it down—on purpose.

[Analytical Capacity: High – Conscious Limitation Detected]

[Arven]

His test was physical. Wall-mounted platforms emerged with varying weights and resistances.

"They’re not testing my strength... They’re testing my restraint."

His first strike shook the system. The second—measured. He adjusted.

Weight sensors stabilized.

[Physical Strength: High – Control Ratio: Stable]

[Darin]

His environment was interactive. A simulated negotiation. Crisis. Verbal manipulation.

"Learning to win without a fight. That’s the real leadership test."

He laced humor into his speech. Eased the tension.

But twice—intentionally—he used threatening tones, Testing the other party.

[Social Impact: Broad – Manipulation: Adaptive Style Success]

[Test Complete – All Data Recorded]

The doors opened. Lights returned to a neutral glow.

Fade exhaled the moment the barrier dropped. His eyes locked onto the ceiling camera. He wasn’t speaking to the system. He knew he was being watched.

At the far end of the corridor, Nail appeared.

His face was unchanged, but there was more focus in his eyes. "Not bad," he said calmly. "The system... liked you. Or more accurately—it wants to understand you."

Kaela stepped forward. "What now?"

"Now," Nail replied, "you’ll attend an evaluation meeting. The upper command requested to meet you personally."

Zeyna narrowed her eyes. "Is that... good or bad?"

Nail gave a faint smile. "A bit of both. That’s how most things are in Last Hope."

The door slid open in silence.

The room inside was wide—but not extravagant. Old tactical maps hung on the walls, updated with modern holograms. Transparent screens descended from the ceiling, displaying live data from across the city. Only one table stood at the center. Behind it—a man.

His coat was military, old but well-preserved, lined with silver trim. On his shoulders was an insignia—a gear surrounded by stars. Not a symbol of unity... but order.

Nail gestured them in. "Commander Aeron. Evaluation team is present."

The commander lifted his head. His gaze met Fade’s—then swept across the others. His look wasn’t questioning. It was weighing.

"Welcome," he said, his voice steady. "Last Hope hasn’t just recorded you. It has seen you."

Zeyna raised a brow slightly. Kaela’s eyes scanned the room with precision. Arven’s shoulder muscles tightened. Darin... simply spoke.

"I’ve got a question."

The commander turned his attention to him.

Darin continued: "The outsiders. Those in the Fringe, in Wasteside. Why did you... abandon them?"

The question hung in the air.

Commander Aeron leaned back slowly. "Abandon? Is that how you see it?"

Darin stayed silent.

Aeron interlocked his fingers. "We didn’t exclude anyone. They weren’t forced to fight. But they could’ve contributed—planted, built, supported something."

Kaela lowered her gaze. Zeyna narrowed her eyes.

"They... simply didn’t want to work," Aeron said. "They wanted to own things without building them. And then they hated those who did."

Silence.

"We never shut the doors on them. But every call we made went unanswered. And as we tightened security... we became the villains."

Fade’s eyes locked with Aeron’s.

This man... wasn’t lying. But his honesty wasn’t comforting. It was sharp—like a truth too clean to touch.

Aeron stood.

"This city isn’t flawless. But it functions. And it functions because each part fulfills its role."

He turned to a screen. It displayed the gray, muddy zones outside the energy dome.

"Those out there didn’t lose to us. They lost to the void inside themselves. And they chose not to see it."

Darin didn’t back away—but he no longer objected. Zeyna looked aside. Kaela inhaled deeply.

The commander stepped around the table. He approached Fade directly.

"You... sense more. You don’t just ask questions. You weigh the cost of answers too."

Fade didn’t respond. He didn’t need to. Aeron hadn’t asked expecting one.

The commander paused, then turned to Nail.

"Show them the next phase of the city tour. The core towers. And... the enrollment options."

Kaela looked up. "What does that mean?"

Aeron spoke one last time.

"Last Hope does not observe. It decides."

"This man isn’t lying. But even truths... have blades."

"And this city... walks on edges of blade."

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