NOVEL NEXT Chapter 117: Stage Two Begins
"That aside, Your goal... Which is only half answer to what I asked earlier, is to ensure the least number of ordinary villagers die during the attack. The more the survivors the better it is for you and your rank in the Guild"
As the recruits heard Bale's words, countless thoughts flashed through their minds, they all wanted to know what secret he was talking about, but they knew that asking him for the secret would result in futile results.
"Any Questions?" Bale asked.
"Sir, would the villagers obey if we order them to do something," A guy at the back asks.
"Yes," Bale replied, apart from the guy, no one else asked a question. No one was courageous enough to ask Bale about the secret.
Seeing that no one had anything left to ask, Bale straightened his back, the subtle movement sharpening the authority in his posture. His voice, when he spoke again, carried that cold, unwavering tone that left no room for misinterpretation.
"The village has approximately three thousand villagers," he said. "Every villager is worth ten points. At the end of the mission, the number of survivors will be tallied, and those points will be awarded to you."
Soft murmurs rippled through the recruits, shock, awe, calculation.
Three thousand potential lives.
Three thousand potential mistakes.
Three thousand potential points.
Bale continued before the implications could settle too deeply.
"Every monster you kill is worth fifty points."
The room fell silent again.
Bale's eyes narrowed, sweeping across their faces with the unblinking, precise awareness of a predator. No one dared shift their gaze. No one dared breathe too loudly.
"Make the wise decision," he said. "This stage is here to test your intelligence, your ability to prioritize, and your understanding of an adventurer's true role."
A cold pressure seeped into the room, coiling around the recruits' lungs like invisible chains. This was no simple fight. No easy path to redemption. It was a test of instincts, morality, and survival all at once.
"And since there are no questions," Bale continued, "you may check further details using your smart bracelets."
The chambers seemed to hold its breath as his voice echoed, sharp and final.
Bale folded his arms behind him, a gesture that radiated finality.
"Prepare yourselves."
Silence washed through the recruits like a frozen tide. No one dared move. They stood caught between fear, dread, and a burning determination that flickered weakly behind their eyes.
Because they all understood,
The real trial had only just begun.
Bale turned away without ceremony, giving his final order over his shoulder.
"Get back into your pods and begin your trial."
The command struck them like a wave.
One by one, the recruits stirred back to life, some with trembling hands still haunted by Bruce's massacre, others carrying the weight of humiliation on their shoulders, and a few burning with raw ambition that refused to die.
Ozai, more than anyone, felt the surge of purpose roar through him.
'This is it,' he thought, eyes gleaming with desperate resolve. 'A perfect opportunity to reclaim my pride. If I get the highest score, higher than Bruce, higher than anyone, then no one can laugh at me. No one can shame me. Father won't...'
He cut off the thought, jaw clenching tight.
'I cannot fail this stage.'
With no Bruce standing in his way this time, confidence seeped back into his blood.
His score would be high, undoubtedly high.
Maybe high enough to erase the memory of his humiliating defeat. Maybe high enough to overshadow the monster who embarrassed him in front of everyone.
Meanwhile, Bruce moved toward his pod in contrast, quiet, calm, unhurried. There was no desperation in his steps. No fear. No excitement. Just focus.
Pure, undisturbed focus.
He slid into the pod, lying back as the hatch sealed with a smooth hydraulic hum. Cold mist coiled around his body, the system engaging automatically, scanning him, he didn't resist allowing it to sync with his neural pattern with clinical precision.
Bruce exhaled once, slow and steady.
'Stage two huh?'
His vision darkened as the simulation crept across his consciousness. Light flickered once across his eyes, brief, final,
And everything went black.
Time passed and as Bruce slowly regained his vision, a wave of disorientation crashed over him. His senses scrambled, grasping for meaning in a place that felt fundamentally wrong. He took a moment to steady his breath, the faint hum of the simulation fading as reality, this twisted version of it, took hold around him.
He stood in the middle of a land that seemed… hollow.
The ground stretched endlessly in all directions, dry and colorless.
No grass.
No trees.
No signs of life.
It felt as though the world had been drained, bled of color, warmth, and hope.
Above him, the sky was even more disturbing.
Not blue.
Not grey.
Not even storm-dark.
But a sickly, oppressive shade of dark orange, like burnt ash smeared across an abandoned canvas. No clouds drifted through it. No birds cut through the stillness. It hung motionless, suffocating, like the dying breath of a dying world.
The air was heavy, thick with a metallic tang that clung to the back of the throat. Every breath dragged the scent of blood deep into his lungs, forcing a sharp reminder of death with every inhale.
Bruce lowered his gaze.
The sight waiting for him felt frozen in time.
Bodies littered the earth, adventurers and mutant wolves alike, strewn across the barren ground like discarded dolls after a violent tantrum. Arms lay bent at unnatural angles. Armor was split open, shattered like brittle shells. Blood coated the dirt in long, ugly streaks, pooling in dark patches that reflected the orange sky.
It was more than a battlefield.
It was a graveyard suspended in its final, breathless moment.
A testament to desperation.
To failure.
To inevitable death.
He recognized no one.
Didn't need to.
These were the adventurers from the narrative Bale explained, those who raided the dungeon with him in this simulation. They fought. They died. They served their purpose in the story.
Bruce exhaled quietly, not out of pity, but simple understanding. Even if this were reality, his reaction would not change. To him, these weren't real people. They were parts of a world built to test him, NPCs playing their roles. Nothing more.
His eyes drifted across the remains of the battlefield again, and this time, something stirred in the distance.
...
A/N
A dungeon outbreak is when a dungeon can't contain the beast in it anymore, so it gradually lets out the beast through the dungeon portal.
One of the reasons why adventures try to clear dungeons as fast as they appear is so that they would prevent a dungeon outbreak from occurring.