Chapter 7:
A25
D3 Protocall
Council Chamber
Councilman A: “W, can we ask why you’re dragging dead weight?”
Councilwoman B: “He’s right. Why are we keeping D and C-rankers? They’ll just hold us back.”
W (through the screen): “Ahm… Mrs., they’re not dead weight.”
Councilman C: “Care to explain?”
W: *“Why not? You’ve seen ants. Are they powerful? No. Are they big? No. But their strength is in numbers. Together, they can bring down prey several times larger than themselves. Even spiders and grasshoppers fall to their coordination.
So tell me—should I leave behind people who now have powers, when even without them I wouldn’t?”*
Council man A: “I think you’re right.”
Council women B: “But you’re neglecting something, W. Humans aren’t ants. They lose hope easily. Look at Indian wars—when the king died, armies collapsed. Numbers become meaningless once hope is gone.”
W: (chuckling) “Sharp as always, Mrs. You’re right—humans do lose hope. But when hope dies, other forces rise stronger than fear. Greed. Ego. Those drive people to move.”
Council man C: “And the ones too scared? Too hopeless?”
W: “Then they die. Simple. Work hard, rise in ranks, earn more—or get erased. At the edge of death, the human mind sharpens. If there’s a choice between certain death and a sliver of survival, they’ll fight for that sliver. Those who don’t… aren’t worth keeping.”
Council man B: “And ego? You haven’t explained that.”
W: *“It’s built into the system. Ranks, money, recognition—they all feed ego. People chase wealth, then pride forces them higher. Greed and ego push them forward, and those who resist… will be removed.
So don’t worry. Everything is already in place. We’re ready… for them.”*
Meanwhile…
Kaal leaned closer, his voice low.“Hey, Yash. You want to escape this place, right?”
His eyes were calm, his smile easy. Then I saw his band. My breath caught.
S150.He was an S-rank.
“What do you mean?” I asked, my voice unsteady.
Kaal frowned, glancing at the guards. “Ah, whatever. Forget it.” He turned away.
“Huh? Was he joking?” I muttered.
“Hey, Kaal—you just asked if I wanted to escape. Why stop now?”
“Because it’s useless, Yash. Even if I’m stronger than the guards, there are too many. Most of them are top-tier A-rankers. Do you think W wouldn’t prepare for the possibility of an S-rank among us?”
I narrowed my eyes. “This dumbass… says something, then tells me to forget it. Should’ve known better than to believe him.”
Kaal suddenly glanced at the wall. A section lifted, revealing an empty slot. Then, in a blur of speed, a door rose into place. To the eye, it looked like it had just spawned.
So that’s how the doors work… A high-speed mechanism. Means we’re trapped here as long as CAFE wants.
The new door shimmered with a golden “S.”
Kaal smirked. “See you on the other side, Yash.”
“You know something about this place, don’t you?” I asked.
His smile lingered, but behind it was something else. Something hidden.
And then he was gone.
I turned to Naman.“Who was that guy?” he asked.“Kaal. An S-rank. Knows more than he lets on.”
“What about you? What rank are you?” I asked.“Oh, me? B100.”
Same as me.
The crowd began moving toward the gates.
“Let’s go, Yash.”“Yeah… let’s go.”
As we walked, my eyes caught on the old man who had questioned W earlier. His band glowed: A98.
So that old man’s an A-rank. Not surprising after meeting an S…
We reached the B door.
“I’m going in first,” Naman said. He stepped through. The door shut, and when it opened, he was gone.
I shook off the unease and entered.
The door sealed behind me. My feet felt lighter. Then the wall ahead slid upward, flooding the room with blinding light.
When my vision cleared, I stood in a massive arena. Grass stretched across the floor like a football field, but the walls were too distant to see. The ceiling curved overhead, circular and vast.
On the far wall, a screen flickered with the words: TRANSMISSION ERROR.
Around me stood twenty others—familiar faces from Gate B.
“Yash!” Naman waved. “Why don’t you touch some grass? This place is full of it!”
I sighed. “Ah, I don’t need—”
Then I froze.
A man stood at the center of the arena, clad in a black formal suit. His tone was casual, almost bored.
“Hello, everyone. I’m your instructor. Your task is simple: land a clean blow on me within the time limit, and you pass. Fail… and you don’t.”
The screen glitched, then updated:
MATCH UP: BATCH B VS INSTRUCTOR
A robotic voice echoed across the arena:[Trial begins. Condition to pass: land a clean blow on the instructor within thirty minutes. Failure condition: DEATH.]
The instructor adjusted his tie, smiling faintly.“Oh, right—I forgot to mention. Penalty for failure is death.”
His band shimmered faintly on his hand.A25.
Councilman A: “W, can we ask why you’re dragging dead weight?”
Councilwoman B: “He’s right. Why are we keeping D and C-rankers? They’ll just hold us back.”
W (through the screen): “Ahm… Mrs., they’re not dead weight.”
Councilman C: “Care to explain?”
W: *“Why not? You’ve seen ants. Are they powerful? No. Are they big? No. But their strength is in numbers. Together, they can bring down prey several times larger than themselves. Even spiders and grasshoppers fall to their coordination.
So tell me—should I leave behind people who now have powers, when even without them I wouldn’t?”*
Council man A: “I think you’re right.”
Council women B: “But you’re neglecting something, W. Humans aren’t ants. They lose hope easily. Look at Indian wars—when the king died, armies collapsed. Numbers become meaningless once hope is gone.”
W: (chuckling) “Sharp as always, Mrs. You’re right—humans do lose hope. But when hope dies, other forces rise stronger than fear. Greed. Ego. Those drive people to move.”
Council man C: “And the ones too scared? Too hopeless?”
W: “Then they die. Simple. Work hard, rise in ranks, earn more—or get erased. At the edge of death, the human mind sharpens. If there’s a choice between certain death and a sliver of survival, they’ll fight for that sliver. Those who don’t… aren’t worth keeping.”
Council man B: “And ego? You haven’t explained that.”
W: *“It’s built into the system. Ranks, money, recognition—they all feed ego. People chase wealth, then pride forces them higher. Greed and ego push them forward, and those who resist… will be removed.
So don’t worry. Everything is already in place. We’re ready… for them.”*
Meanwhile…
Kaal leaned closer, his voice low.“Hey, Yash. You want to escape this place, right?”
His eyes were calm, his smile easy. Then I saw his band. My breath caught.
S150.He was an S-rank.
“What do you mean?” I asked, my voice unsteady.
Kaal frowned, glancing at the guards. “Ah, whatever. Forget it.” He turned away.
“Huh? Was he joking?” I muttered.
“Hey, Kaal—you just asked if I wanted to escape. Why stop now?”
“Because it’s useless, Yash. Even if I’m stronger than the guards, there are too many. Most of them are top-tier A-rankers. Do you think W wouldn’t prepare for the possibility of an S-rank among us?”
I narrowed my eyes. “This dumbass… says something, then tells me to forget it. Should’ve known better than to believe him.”
Kaal suddenly glanced at the wall. A section lifted, revealing an empty slot. Then, in a blur of speed, a door rose into place. To the eye, it looked like it had just spawned.
So that’s how the doors work… A high-speed mechanism. Means we’re trapped here as long as CAFE wants.
The new door shimmered with a golden “S.”
Kaal smirked. “See you on the other side, Yash.”
“You know something about this place, don’t you?” I asked.
His smile lingered, but behind it was something else. Something hidden.
And then he was gone.
I turned to Naman.“Who was that guy?” he asked.“Kaal. An S-rank. Knows more than he lets on.”
“What about you? What rank are you?” I asked.“Oh, me? B100.”
Same as me.
The crowd began moving toward the gates.
“Let’s go, Yash.”“Yeah… let’s go.”
As we walked, my eyes caught on the old man who had questioned W earlier. His band glowed: A98.
So that old man’s an A-rank. Not surprising after meeting an S…
We reached the B door.
“I’m going in first,” Naman said. He stepped through. The door shut, and when it opened, he was gone.
I shook off the unease and entered.
The door sealed behind me. My feet felt lighter. Then the wall ahead slid upward, flooding the room with blinding light.
When my vision cleared, I stood in a massive arena. Grass stretched across the floor like a football field, but the walls were too distant to see. The ceiling curved overhead, circular and vast.
On the far wall, a screen flickered with the words: TRANSMISSION ERROR.
Around me stood twenty others—familiar faces from Gate B.
“Yash!” Naman waved. “Why don’t you touch some grass? This place is full of it!”
I sighed. “Ah, I don’t need—”
Then I froze.
A man stood at the center of the arena, clad in a black formal suit. His tone was casual, almost bored.
“Hello, everyone. I’m your instructor. Your task is simple: land a clean blow on me within the time limit, and you pass. Fail… and you don’t.”
The screen glitched, then updated:
MATCH UP: BATCH B VS INSTRUCTOR
A robotic voice echoed across the arena:[Trial begins. Condition to pass: land a clean blow on the instructor within thirty minutes. Failure condition: DEATH.]
The instructor adjusted his tie, smiling faintly.“Oh, right—I forgot to mention. Penalty for failure is death.”
His band shimmered faintly on his hand.A25.
—END OF THE CHAPTER—
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