Chapter 251: Trial of Endurance
Kael’s final day of the trial ended with his fracture level dropping all the way to 3, which was frankly something even he hadn’t expected. After everything the third floor had thrown at him, the cold, the exhaustion, the constant gnawing pressure scraping against his mind, he had assumed surviving without completely losing his sanity would already count as an achievement. Somehow, though, he had done more than survive.
The final notifications appeared one after another in front of him, their pale glow illuminating the hollow interior of the frozen tree.
[You have comfortably resisted the environmental challenges of the Trial of Pain.]
[You have achieved the lowest fracture level recorded on the third floor. Mental Fracture 3]
You have cleared the Floor 3.
[Your record will be published under anonymous.]
You can now access:
Floor 4. Trial of Enduring.
Kael stared at the messages for a second longer than necessary, half expecting another hidden condition to appear afterward and ruin the moment. Nothing came.
"...Huh."
That was it. Seven days of psychological harassment, freezing winds, and a floor seemingly designed by someone who hated human comfort on a personal level, and his reward was a quiet congratulations and the privilege of suffering somewhere new.
Honestly, about what he expected.
The moment Kael accepted access to the next floor, the world around him dissolved without warning. The hollow tree, the damp and small bear lair, the biting cold, and the endless choir of aches vanished all at once, ripped away so abruptly it left his senses disoriented. For a brief instant, there was only weightlessness, a strange drifting sensation that lasted less than a heartbeat before his boots planted firmly against solid ground.
Warm ground.
The shift in temperature was so sudden it almost felt offensive.
Kael blinked several times as harsh light flooded his vision. Heat slammed into him from every direction, dry and oppressive, completely different from the cutting cold he had spent the last week enduring. By the time his eyes adjusted, all he could see was sand.
An endless sea of it stretched beyond the horizon, golden dunes rolling beneath a blazing sky that looked far too close to the earth. Waves of heat distortion rippled constantly across the landscape, warping the distance until everything looked unstable. The stone platform beneath his feet radiated warmth upward immediately, the heat soaking through the soles of his boots almost fast enough to annoy him on principle.
After seven days of frostbite, numb fingers, and winds that felt personally malicious, the warmth should have been pleasant.
Instead, it was just another inconvenience.
His body had barely adjusted to the cold.
Now this.
Kael clicked his tongue.
"Of course."
A notification materialized in front of him.
[Entering Floor 4.]
[Trial of Enduring]
[Previous Mental Fracture retained.]
[Mental Fracture: 3/100]
A second message followed immediately after.
[Objective: Reach the Final Beacon.]
[Success Condition: A minimum of 3 participants must survive.]
[Failure Condition: Fewer than 3 participants remain. Only by reaching the final Beacon can you challenge the trial again. Failing to reach the final beacon will result in death.]
[Special Rule: One participant shall be designated as Leader.]
[The Leader shall receive authority over provisions, water supply, and route guidance.]
[Leader death will result in designation transfer.]
[Warning: Death of participants increases Mental Fracture of surviving members.]
[Endure.]
Kael read through the notifications once, then again more slowly, his expression flattening further with every line.
"That sounds miserable."
The platform beneath him was circular, raised slightly above the surrounding sands and built from smooth pale stone already hot from the relentless sunlight. At its center stood a small pedestal, and resting atop it was a single satchel.
As Kael’s eyes settled on it, the satchel suddenly floated upward.
At the same moment, a golden symbol manifested above one of the six people standing around the platform.
Not him.
A tall, broad-shouldered man wearing weathered leather armor frowned as the glowing mark settled above his head.
[Leader Designated.]
[Participant: Garron.]
The satchel flew directly into his hands.
The man instinctively tightened his grip around it.
Silence followed after that. Not comfortable silence either, but the awkward, heavy kind that settled over groups of strangers who had all simultaneously realized they were trapped together under terrible conditions.
Kael finally turned his attention toward the others.
There were six participants in total, including himself.
A young woman sat against one of the outer platform stones with her left leg wrapped tightly in bloodstained bandages. Her skin looked pale beneath the heat, exhaustion visible in the way her shoulders sagged slightly. Injured already. Either from the previous floor or whatever nightmare she’d crawled through before getting here.
Nearby stood a skinny young man whose hands shook every few seconds despite his attempts to hide it. His eyes darted constantly between everyone present, lingering too long on weapons, movements, and expressions. Rookie, probably. The kind that expected violence because he knew he wasn’t prepared for it.
A wiry middle-aged man stood near the platform edge with his arms crossed tightly over his chest. Narrow eyes. Permanent scowl. The sort of face that looked like it trusted absolutely nobody, including itself.
Then there was another man dressed in plain traveling gear with a dark scarf wrapped loosely around his neck. Unlike the others, he remained unusually calm. His posture looked relaxed at first glance, but his gaze moved too carefully, too deliberately, studying everyone without making it obvious.
Kael moved his eyes to look at the man designated as their leader.
Garron.
Kael took one look at him and immediately understood the type. Broad frame. Square jaw. Short brown beard. Practical armor. Confident stance. Already carrying the exhausted expression of a man preparing to explain why his bad decisions were actually necessary leadership.
Yep.
Definitely insufferable.
Kael was about to step off the platform when another translucent notification flashed before all of them, followed by a faint shimmer above each participant’s head.
Numbers materialized one after another, hovering clearly for everyone to see. The injured woman clicked her tongue the moment a bright 33 appeared above her, by far the highest among them.
Garron glanced upward at his own number and seemed mildly pleased to find 21, the second lowest in the group. The rookie had 27, the middle-aged man 25, and the quiet scarfed man sat at 24. Then all eyes slowly shifted toward Kael. A pale glowing 3 hovered above his helmet like some kind of insult to the rest of them.
For a brief moment, nobody spoke. Even Garron’s expression stiffened slightly. Seven days in the Trial of Pain and this giant somehow walked out nearly mentally untouched. The silence that followed felt heavier than before, and Kael could almost physically feel the collective irritation directed at him.
They looked annoyed that someone built like a siege weapon had somehow also come out of the previous floor looking mentally fresher than all of them.
"Well," Garron finally said as he glanced down at the satchel in his hands, "guess I’m leader."
"No shit," the skinny rookie muttered under his breath.
Garron ignored him entirely and opened the satchel. Inside were several tightly wrapped food portions, multiple water skins, and a small metallic object resembling a compass. Strange symbols were engraved along its surface, and at the center, a glowing needle slowly rotated before settling in a fixed direction.
"Looks like the system wasn’t kidding."
The injured woman narrowed her eyes immediately.
"How much food?"
"Enough."
"That’s not an answer."
"It’s the answer you’re getting."
Kael could already feel a headache forming.
The middle-aged man scoffed loudly.
"Great. Trial starts with resource monopoly."
"It starts with resources being centralized," Garron corrected evenly. "Important difference."
"Not if you’re an asshole."
Garron shut the satchel and looked around at the group. His gaze paused briefly on Kael.
More specifically, on Kael’s size.
Even beneath his armor and usual gear, Kael’s frame stood out immediately. Months of climbing mountains, carrying absurd weight, and surviving increasingly hostile environments had done absolutely nothing to help him blend in with normal people.
Garron raised an eyebrow.
"...You’re big."
Kael stared at him blankly.
"Thank you."
"No, I mean concerningly big." Garron adjusted the satchel over his shoulder. "You look like you eat enough for three people."
A few of the others immediately glanced toward Kael.
The rookie actually took half a step backward.
Kael frowned beneath his helmet.
"I eat normal amounts."
"That is a lie," Garron said instantly.
The middle-aged man snorted loudly.
Even the injured woman looked mildly amused now.
Kael suddenly felt personally attacked.
He did not eat that much.
Probably.
The quiet scarfed man finally spoke, his voice calm and measured.
"Food is finite. His size is a valid concern."
Kael turned toward him slowly.
"You too?"
The man shrugged lightly.
"Bigger body. Higher intake."
Traitorous logic.
"This is discrimination."
Nobody looked convinced.
The rookie muttered quietly, "He probably burns through rations like a furnace..."
Kael stared at all of them in disbelief.
After surviving seven days of psychological torture and environmental abuse, somehow this was what irritated him most. Not the desert. Not the survival trial. Not the looming threat of death.
No.
Apparently he was being profiled for being muscular.
Unbelievable.
Garron cleared his throat and straightened slightly, visibly settling into the role of authority far too comfortably for Kael’s liking.
"Listen carefully. We need three survivors minimum. That means killing each other immediately is stupid."
"Immediately?" the middle-aged man repeated dryly.
Garron ignored him.
"We move together until we understand the terrain, the distance, and whatever threats this floor has waiting for us. Food and water stay with me. Rations get distributed as needed."
"That sounds dangerously close to dictatorship," the injured woman said.
"That sounds dangerously close to survival."
The scarfed man nodded once.
Reasonable.
For some reason, that single nod irritated Kael more than the actual conversation.
Garron pointed toward the horizon. Far in the distance, barely visible through the constant heat distortion, a faint structure rose above the dunes. It looked like either a tower or a massive pillar, impossible to identify properly from this far away.
"The Beacon, probably."
The glowing needle of the compass aligned toward it immediately.
Well.
That simplified things.
Beyond the platform stretched a brutal landscape of rolling dunes, jagged stone ridges, and scattered patches of green interrupting the endless sands. Oases. Sparse and isolated, positioned far enough apart that reaching each one would probably become its own struggle.
Natural checkpoints.
Likely conflict zones too.
Kael already disliked this floor.
At least the frozen forest had the decency to be honest about its misery. It looked hostile because it was hostile. This place, on the other hand, looked survivable in a way that immediately made him suspicious.
Anything that appeared manageable inside the Tower usually meant it was preparing something awful.
The middle-aged man clicked his tongue impatiently.
"Standing here cooks us alive. Move already."
Garron nodded once.
"Nearest oasis first."
The group began descending from the platform onto the sands below. Kael adjusted his helmet slightly and followed behind them in silence.
The sand shifted beneath his boots with every step, loose and unstable. Dry heat wrapped around his body immediately, pressing against him from every direction beneath the relentless sun overhead.
Behind the visor of his helmet, Kael sighed quietly.
He had a very bad feeling about this group.
Mostly because none of them had tried to kill each other yet.
Which probably meant it was only a matter of time.
