Two days had passed since my arrival at the military research camp. Today I had to undergo the first test to verify my practical abilities with the Sciarra, and if I passed, I would officially become a member of the research group and begin working. If I failed, I would be put in jail.

  As I put on my worn shirt from the orphanage, my blood boiled in my veins with anger toward Areo Quinta.

  At first, he seemed almost like a positive figure, but now I felt only disgust toward him. The lack of control over my own life burned into my soul. A general who sacrificed the lives of others for the state was a man without soul and without honor.

  Without waiting any longer, I prepared to leave the cramped box they had assigned to me as a room: four narrow walls, dull gray brown in color, with a flickering lamp attached to the ceiling as the only source of light. I was also sure I had seen at least five spiders crawl beneath my bed, which turned my stomach, same bed with that rough fabric which caused me constant sense of itch on my arms.

  Trying to push my thoughts to the back of my mind, I began to walk toward the exit of the cluster of rooms where I had been confined for two days. I had clearly not rested enough to face a test like the one awaiting me today, and when I thought about my possible fate, I would have preferred to spend the rest of my days in that cramped two for two hole of a room.

  A long corridor stretched ahead, with a light in the ceiling every six arrow-lengths. Even those could not stay on for a full second without flickering off and on again, causing intense pressure to build in my temple. Pure irritation.

  I reached the end of the long walk and stood before an iron door, with traces of rust on the handle and along the edges. "Simel Eda, come forward." The sound reached my ears, and as I processed the name, I understood that it was my turn. I grasped the rusted handle and turned it gently to avoid cutting my hand. After all, an illness was the last thing I wanted.

  A large square room with gray walls stood before me, and at its center was a table of the same dull color. "Please, sit," said the woman from the other day, standing directly in front of the table. She was tall, wearing a jacket with white buttons and long trousers that hung loosely around her ankles. From a distance, I could see low heels, about two centimeters high, and the overall theme of her clothing was dark black.

  Despite this, I could notice streaks of red within her brown hair. Just like the day I first saw her, she looked straight ahead, but not into my eyes, almost as if she were ashamed.

  I sat down on the chair, fixing my gaze on the desk. My heart was racing wildly. I tried to breathe deeply, but I could only manage short breaths, which made my pulse quicken even more. It felt as though a cold sensation rose from my back and wrapped around my body, making every hair stand straight like pine needles. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the woman circling around me like a bee drawn to a sweet flower, but slowly, and with an air that conveyed a powerful sense of helplessness about what was about to happen.

  Her steps were slow but heavy, like a predator watching its prey.

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  Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. ... The sound stopped.

  “So tell me, what is Sciarra?” The vibrations of her voice came from just behind my ear. I swallowed and opened my mouth.

  “The... Sciarra is an energy present across all known lands. However, Homo sapiens becomes aware of it only after coming into contact with the filtered substance from a... cough ...a specific type of lithium found in a cave near the founding site of the capital of the Republic of Venira. After the process of ingesting the substance extracted from this lithium, known as Type-S Lithium, the senses of a man or... gulp ...a woman are greatly enhanced. In addition, it grants access to the control of the Sciarra. This energy allows the manipulation of matter at a subatomic level.”

  Sweat slid down my forehead and reached my nose. I wanted to wipe it away with my sleeve, but fear froze me in place. The woman nodded almost imperceptibly and began circling around me again. Tap.

  Tap…Tap…Tap…Thowmp…Stop.

  “Tell me, where is the Sciarra used?” Her warm breath reached my neck, making me flinch.

  “The... Sciarra... is used in every field known to humanity because of its great versatility, but mainly in the military and medical sectors.”

  Tap... Tap... Tap... Tap…Tap…Thowmp…Stop.

  I sense something strange, my survival instinct is asking me to look up.

  Now the woman stood directly in front of me, a heavy, imposing shadow. For the first time, her eyes met mine. They looked like a bottomless pit, yet I thought I saw a faint glimmer of doubt deep within.

  “Would you be capable of applying the Sciarra in a medical context?”

  I couldn’t speak. I just nodded.

  A blurred movement appeared before my eyes, and my brain needed a second to understand. The woman in black was holding a knife, and on its tip there was red blood. The sight stopped my heart for an instant. Then I lowered my gaze and noticed a hole in my hand. Panic surged up my spine. The pain began to reach me, while fear filled my lungs.

  “Heal yourself,” I heard from the woman’s mouth. A cold sentence... yet also something closer to a prayer.

  I closed my eyes and focused on the wound. I had been trained for this. If I failed, I would be buried and forgotten. I did not want to die. I pictured the bone structure of the hand, then shaped the muscles, the nerves, and the blood vessels around it. Then I opened my eyes again. The pain was gone, and the bleeding had stopped. I took a few seconds to steady my breathing.

  “You may return to your room.”

  Upon hearing those words, I stood up and, without looking back or asking any questions, I rushed out through the door I had entered, closing it behind me. I began walking the distance between the interrogation room and my quarters, hearing behind me the name of the next unfortunate soul.

  “Hiker Silla, come to the interrogation room.”

  As I walked back toward my room, I could not help noticing that the name on the plaque of the door next to mine was Hiker’s.

  I can’t help but notice how it is slightly opened as Hiker barely opened it up after hearing his name, with my tongue pushing me towards the door. I couldn't help but give a look in the small gap.

  I have a clear vision.

  In front of me stood the brown haired boy who had been beside me in the cart. The bed was positioned in the center of the room…he was bare chested, suspended above the mattress…with his shirt wrapped around his neck…

  …He had hanged himself…