Slide Divergence

The heavy sensation of falling vanished. Ryan's body suddenly sank, and he rolled once with the momentum, his shoulder scraping against the ground with a slight sting of pain.

He did not rush to stand. Instead, he remained prone, slowly raised his head, and opened his eyes.

Before him was a completely enclosed stone chamber. Its four walls were built from rough, unpolished gray rocks. Small lights were embedded in the corners, their weak glow barely illuminating the platform in the center of the room. The air was thick with the damp smell of mildew and lime, mixed with a faint scent of rust.

The entire room was as silent as death. There were no voices, no shouts, and not even the sounds of knocking, pushing at the door, or calling to teammates—because that was how Trick Tower had been designed. Each examinee was separated and isolated, with only themselves to rely on.

Ryan took a deep breath, feeling his chest expand and his heartbeat remain steady. He slowly rose and carefully checked himself for injuries. His physical condition was good. No muscles had been strained, and his mind was clear.

His gaze fell on the platform in the center.

Resting quietly on it was a black ID identifier—the dedicated device the Hunter Association had equipped every examinee with. It looked like a simple wristband, silver and black, with a tiny metal clasp along the edge and a small miniature display embedded in its surface. It had only three functions: identity confirmation, countdown, and door unlocking.

Ryan slowly walked to the platform and lowered his head, lightly brushing his fingers over the wristband. The cold touch of metal reached his fingertips, making his heart tighten slightly. He expertly fastened it around his left wrist. The wristband automatically locked into place