The crowd was frozen.
Some dropped their microphones.
Others stood still like statues, unsure if they were witnessing a demonstration or the beginning of a war.
Fantasy-like powers, right before their eyes.
Ren stepped forward, "These are the skills we've gained inside the World Tree."
She glanced at the frozen soldiers, then at the cameras.
"We noticed it on our way here, we can only use our skills at around 40%... in terms of output."
Seulgi's diamond arms slowly reverted to flesh.
"If we were at full power?" She glanced at the politicians. "You wouldn't even be able to blink."
Zeke crossed his arms, unimpressed.
"So if you're thinking of testing us again—just remember, this is us holding back."
Rayyaan cracked his neck, eyes still locked on the retreating politicians.
"Let's hope they heard that loud and clear."
He said it in a low tone. Almost like a warning.
A threat.
"Continue."
Then Zeke spoke—
"In five years… All we managed was clearing one zone boss. Just one."
His gaze swept the room.
"Out of the 37 left, only 11 of us came back."
No one dared ask the next question.
Because deep down, they already knew the answer.
Zeke stepped forward, his voice steady, cold.
"And that—clearing that one zone boss—was what allowed us to return. To come back here."
He paused.
Letting the words sink in.
"But if we were able to come back… what's stopping something else from crossing over?"
He pointed upward. Or maybe forward. Or somewhere beyond.
"If some other creature—hell, if anything from there makes it through… this place, our world… it won't survive."
"Right now… we're vulnerable. All of us."
Murmurs started again.
People are shifting.
Cameras rolling again—slow, hesitant.
"But…"
He clenched his fist.
"If at least 30% of the current population awakened their skills…
We might have a chance. A way to protect our home."
Silence.
Then gasps.
This wasn't just a press conference anymore.
This was a declaration.
A warning.
After the press conference, they didn't wait for applause… or waste time.
The eleven remaining elites dispersed across the Earth, each carrying the weight of survival…
And the responsibility that came with it.
They weren't just survivors anymore.
They became Mentors.
From dense urban places to mountain camps, they trained volunteers in everything.
Hand to hand combat, knife fighting, gun control, survival tactics.
How to hunt and scavenge in the wild.
And between drills, they'd whisper truths about the World Tree.
The deaths of their comrades, the appearance of the monsters they encountered, the price they have to pay for revealing knowledge outsiders aren't supposed to know.
Years passed.
The curriculum evolved.
From desperate improvisation to structured training.
The goal?
To prepare them all.
Setting up four large Training Facilities all across the World.
North Citadel - America
East Stronghold - Russia
West Vault - Europe
South Fortress - Asia
The day came.
Fifty thousand brave souls, volunteers from every nation stood at the Firewall.
The eleven walked among them, quiet and focused.
No fanfare. No grand speeches.
Just a shared nod.
Then they entered.
The Earth itself seemed to tremble. A deep, resonating hum, like something buried beneath the surface… laughing.
Its roots stirred, at the tip of the tree's entrance, a blinding light flared, followed by a number.
50,011
Someone mumbled, "That's everyone… all of them made it in."
There were cheers. Tears. As if Earth had taken its first step into the unknown.
People stared in awe. Cameras rolled. The World watched.
Then the number dropped.
Then—
49,998
The drop was small.
Some thought it was a glitch.
Then—
47,777
The cheers stopped.
A cold breeze ran through the crowd, though there was no wind.
"Wait, what's going on?" a woman clutched her chest, breath shaky.
44,404
"No… no no noo—" a man dropped to his knees, staring at the number."
40,013
Gasps. Whispers. Silence.
All at once.
39,999
"Is it a countdown?" someone said.
37,521
"Are they dying? Someone else whispered.
29,794
"Stop this! Pull them out! Can't we pull them out!?"
No answer.
And then it stopped—
10,000
No movement.
Just silence
It was louder than screams.
A child in the crowd asked, "Mom… does that mean the rest are gone?"
She couldn't answer.
Because no one could.
Not yet.
Not anymore.
A collective shiver ran through those watching.
Pride became dread.
Months passed.
Some returned—limping, missing limbs, haunted by what they saw. Others stayed behind, exploring the tree's impossible world.
The documentaries that followed were raw. Gritty. Survivors staring into the camera, voice trembling, describing what they faced in the Individual Trial.
Some viewers wept. Some turned off their screens in horror. Others stared in awe.
But everyone understood one thing.
This was no mere expedition.
This is war.
[Year 2082 : The Current Era]
Sound of a desk being slapped.
"And that's the whole summary of what happened during the first generations of Seekers.
Any questions?".
A student raised his hand.
"What is it, Daiki Inoue?"
Daiki smirked and pointed at Ahrie, who was clearly dozing off mid-lecture.
The professor's gaze sharpened.
He raised his hand, forming a "C" with his fingers, and quietly uttered.
"[Memory Static]."
He walked toward Ahrie and placed his palm gently on the boy's back.
Daiki tried to hold in his laughter.
Ahrie's eyes shot open—but his body wouldn't move.
Two seconds of blank blinking.
"Alright, class. Head to the combat field. Your final assessment will be held there."
Chairs scraped. Students stood. The room shifted into a mix of nerves and chatter.
Daiki strolled over to Ahrie, chuckling.
"You asshole," Ahrie muttered as Daiki helped him up and walked him out of the room.
Professor Kaien stayed behind, looking at his hand.
His knuckles were tight.
His fingers twitching.
That dull pain again.
It was getting worse.
Outside, the two boys walked toward the field.
"So," Daiki asked, "what'd you lose this time?"
"Wait—lemme check," Ahrie replied.
Daiki let go.
Two seconds later, Ahrie tipped sideways and hit the ground.
"Hehe—seems like my body forgot how to balance again," Ahrie said.
"Geez… Prof. Kaien's skill is busted," Daiki said as he helped him up again.
"Right? Forgetting a basic life skill for five minutes… That's brutal."
"What if it made you forget how to breathe?" came a voice behind them.
Both flinched.
"Holy—Naoya, don't sneak up like that," Daiki said.
Naoya smirked and helped support Ahrie too.
The three of them continued walking, but as they neared the training grounds, something felt off…
The air was heavier.
The chatter faded.
And when they reached the gate, they stopped.
Dozens of students were already lined up on the field.
Only—they didn't recognize a single one.
Just rows of strangers in the same academy-issued gear, standing in eerie silence, eyes forward.
Ahrie squinted.
"...Where are we?...these guys… they're not from our class."
Daiki glanced around. "Are they from other Training Facilities?"
Before anyone could answer,
A sudden static burst from the speakers ade everyone tense before the announcement came.
"Final Assessment: Commencing. Observe caution."
Daiki's grin vanished.
Ahrie blinked.
Naoya's jaw clenched.
This wasn't a mere class test.
This was something else.
And none of them were ready.