Chapter 7: The Registration Hall

Ofurd, my guide through this chaos, was patient but firm. “There are ten months in a year here,” he said, his voice sharp. “One day has sixty hours. One month has 365 days. Each month is named after great or notorious people from history. This month is Yamd, named after someone dangerous, not great.”

I tried to absorb everything, but my brain felt like it was overheating. I repeated the facts to myself over and over, scribbling notes whenever I could. Time here wasn’t like time back home; everything was exaggerated, and I had to adjust quickly.

“Hurry, Luar,” Ofurd urged. “If you’re late, you’ll be disqualified.”

“I came with Mateo,” I protested.

“Then go,” he said with a shrug. “I’ve tried ten times before and failed each attempt. Learn from me, but don’t expect miracles.”

The registration hall was massive, filled with candidates from every corner of the world. Some were laughing, some muttering to themselves, and others already strategizing with their teams. My mind raced, thinking about the exams, the rules, the unknown challenges ahead. Knowledge was survival, and I couldn’t afford to lose focus even for a second.

Every detail mattered. Security checks, ID scans, procedural rules, and even the subtle movements of other candidates—all of it could determine whether I passed or failed. I reminded myself that panic would be fatal. Every step I took needed to be measured, calculated.

The hall was like a battlefield of the mind. I felt the tension in the air, the silent competition between strangers. Mateo stayed close, calm and confident. I watched him, trying to mimic his poise. His presence alone made the chaos slightly bearable.

This was not just a test of strength. It was a test of wit, reflexes, and instincts. One wrong move, one lapse in observation, could cost everything. And yet, despite the pressure, I felt ready. I had trained for this, and with Mateo by my side, I believed I could endure.