Their feet dragged silently. No one looked at the other, as if their very eyes could no longer bear what they had seen.
The air in the corridor leading to the third room was saturated with an incomprehensible scent—a mix of pain, guilt, and a hidden desire to escape.
Even the walls of the place, with their sterile stillness and dim lighting, seemed to be watching them… recording their breaths… counting their brokenness.
Nayan walked behind them, soundless, without connection. Every cell in her body knew that her name… was still hanging on the precipice of a vote. Her eyes were devoid of expression, as if she didn't care what would happen to her.
The new corridor was unlike any before.
Narrow. Its walls weren't white but gray, crisscrossed with fissures like cracks in memory. The ceiling was lower than usual, forcing them to shorten their strides, as if the system itself was compelling them to shrink, or to accept their subjugation.
Then... a single door.
Frameless. Unmarked. Just a smooth metallic plate, which separated with a dry hiss as they approached.
The Fourth Room.
A floor as black as stagnant water, dimly reflecting their distorted images.
A very high ceiling, yet it concealed the light source entirely, giving the place a sense of emptiness and loss.
And in the middle of the chamber... a circular stone platform with a brass pillar from which a screen hung.
The screen lit up without preamble.
"The Fourth Room – Your Decision:
Candidate: Ira 014
Decision:
Either abandon her permanently — she will not be eliminated,
but she will be withdrawn from the test and transferred to an unspecified level.
Or... random elimination of two of you.
Voting is individual.
Majority decides.
Ira is not allowed to participate."
No one uttered a word.
The statements were clear. Terrifying in their simplicity.
"Transferred to an unspecified level"...
But everyone knew that darkness here, when unnamed… was worse than anything spoken.
Ira, for the first time, raised her gaze.
Her look didn't beg for mercy, but for something harsher: understanding. As if she was asking: "Do you truly understand what you're doing?"
Kai mumbled, staring at the screen:
"So... not an execution. But it's like they're just swallowing her whole."
Silo clenched his fist: "But if we don't abandon her... two of us disappear."
Jarm looked directly at Ira:
"Is there a fair choice here?"
Ira didn't reply. She stood as if she already knew the outcome.
Faro took a step forward.
His voice came out steady, despite the crack that resided within it:
"The choice is between losing her... or losing two of us, we don't know who.
Fear, as usual, is what decides here."
Nayan was the only one still looking at the ground, pressing her clasped hands as if clinging to the last thread of reality.
The bracelets began to flash slowly.
Five points of light appeared on each bracelet—everyone except Ira.
Kai pressed.
Jarm pressed.
Nayan hesitated, then pressed with hidden despair.
Silo closed his eyes... and pressed.
Faro delayed, but there was no doubt about his decision. He pressed.
The system waited for moments, as if giving them a chance to regret… or to deepen their sense of helplessness.
Then it displayed the result:
Vote: 5 — Abandon Ira
Decision: She is withdrawn from the test.
No siren sounded. Nothing sudden happened.
Just… the wall behind them suddenly split open, from nowhere, revealing a new corridor, dark, endless to the eye.
And beside it… a small word on a metal plate:
"Transfer."
Everyone stood frozen in place.
Ira... walked.
She didn't look back.
And no sound came from her.
When darkness swallowed her, the wall closed as if it had never been there.
Nayan didn't cry, but she suddenly placed her hand on her chest, as if something inside her had broken. Her body trembled faintly.
Faro didn't move.
Silo spat on the ground bitterly:
"We are all... cowards."
The screen reappeared:
"Congratulations.
Decision accepted.
You have two minutes.
Then the next stage begins."
But no one felt victorious.
Because the decision wasn't just about Ira.
It was about all of them… and what they were willing to do to avoid being "the next victim."