Chapter 152: The Thinning of the Players
"You could've at least given me a proper explanation before pulling this stunt."
There was no response, only the faint hum of residual mana vibrating through the egg. For a moment, Horizon stood there, unsure of what to do.
Nyx's transformation had caught him completely off guard, and now he was stuck with an ancient dragon egg he didn't fully understand—and no clue how long this hibernation would last.
He sighed, placing the egg carefully into his bag. "Great. Now I have to babysit a hibernating dragon," he muttered. "You better wake up soon, Nyx. I'm not hauling you around forever."
As he secured the egg and glanced back toward the forest, he knew this was only the beginning of the challenges to come. With Nyx out of commission for who knew how long, he'd have to be extra careful—and, more importantly, find a safe place to regroup. Explore more adventures at empire
For now, though, he had only one choice: keep moving forward.
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Three days had passed since the players entered the unforgiving dimension of the second challenge. What initially appeared to be a typical survival task soon revealed itself to be far more brutal.
The land was desolate, with a strange crimson sky looming overhead that grew darker as each day progressed. The ground cracked beneath their feet, emanating a heat that made it feel as if they were walking atop a dormant volcano. Sparse, twisted trees with blackened bark and razor-sharp thorns grew in clusters, offering minimal shelter and an ominous sense of danger.
The challenge was simple on paper: survive for seven days in this hostile dimension. But reality was far from simple. Every night, when the sky turned deep red, high-tier beasts emerged from the shadows, drawn by the scent of fear and desperation. These were not ordinary beasts; they were creatures warped by the chaotic energy of this dimension—grotesque forms of life designed to hunt, kill, and devour.
On the first day, hundreds of groups had entered, each team filled with hopeful, competitive players determined to clear the challenge. By the end of the third day, fewer than fifty groups remained. The rest had either fallen prey to the deadly creatures or forfeited the match to return to the relative safety of Eternia.
Those who forfeited would be disqualified from further competition, but many had chosen survival over pride.
For the surviving teams, however, it wasn't merely the beasts that tested their endurance. The dimension seemed to drain them in ways they had never experienced before.
In Eternia, many players had abilities and items that made hunger and thirst irrelevant, but here, those abilities were nullified. They were reduced to mere mortals, susceptible to fatigue, hunger, and dehydration. Even minor injuries could become life-threatening without proper treatment.
Adding to their misery was the fact that they couldn't linger in one place for long. Staying in a single location meant their scent would rub off on the area, attracting high-tier predators during the red sky.
On top of that, stepping outside during the day meant facing swarms of flesh-eating rats—tiny, vicious creatures that attacked anything in their path within minutes of exposure.
As a result, the remaining players were forced into constant motion, searching for temporary hiding spots before the next wave of danger arrived.
Horizon and his group had managed to survive through a combination of quick thinking, teamwork, and sheer luck. But the strain was beginning to show. Their bodies ached from days of restless running.
Nyx's hibernation only made things worse, as Horizon now had to carry her egg-like form wherever they went, and they didn't have anyone to give them direction except for Cappy, Von's bird pet.
Their only saving grace was the Giant Fruit gifted to them by the Apple Tree Dragon. Just a single bite provided the nourishment of a full meal, including sufficient hydration, which meant food and water weren't a pressing concern for them—unlike the other teams, who constantly struggled to find sustenance.
"We can't keep this up," muttered Lydia. She was a wiry young woman with big eyes and an equally sharp temper. "Every time we stop, something finds us. If it's not the beasts at night, it's the rats during the day."
"We don't have a choice," Horizon replied, glancing around their temporary shelter—a shallow cave carved into a rocky hillside. "Four more days. We just need to hold out four more days."
Lydia let out a frustrated sigh but didn't argue. She knew Horizon was right. There was no going back now. Giving up would mean forfeiting not only the challenge but any chance at the rewards it offered. And for Horizon, failure wasn't an option.
"How's the water?" Horizon asked, turning to Silphie, the only healer in their group.
"Almost gone," she said quietly, holding up a nearly empty flask. "We need to find more soon."
Horizon clenched his jaw. Water wasn't an immediate concern, but they were rationing the Giant Fruit carefully, intending to save it for the next two rounds of the game. That meant any available sources of food and water in the forest were valuable, and they couldn't afford to overlook even the smallest opportunity to gather supplies.
The limited supply they'd brought with them had run out quickly, and while they had found a few small streams along the way, the water was often tainted or difficult to reach.
"Alright," Horizon said, standing. "We'll move again. There's a dense part of the forest about half a mile north. If we're lucky, we might find a better hiding spot there."
Lydia shot him a skeptical look. "You mean deeper into the forest where the beasts are even more dangerous?"
"Got a better idea?" Horizon snapped, his patience wearing thin.
Lydia held up her hands in surrender. "Fine. Let's go get ourselves killed deeper in the woods."
Von chuckled from the side, flashing a confident grin. "Don't worry, my dear Lydia. I'll protect you no matter what," he declared, his gaze shifting to the young harpie beside her. "And that includes you too, my sweet little Silphie."
Meanwhile, Frigid let out a lazy yawn, clearly signaling he was more interested in sleep than the conversation unfolding around him.