The sunrise bonfire crackled, sending embers swirling into the early morning air. Neil stood beside it, wearing his usual khaki shorts and that ridiculous explorer’s hat—an item he swore was indispensable for survival, though Kai had never heard a convincing reason why. He had asked plenty of times. The old man had yet to deliver a proper answer.
“Listen up, everyone. Today, we’re having a practical class.” Neil’s voice had that peculiar cadence that made it cut through any morning haze.
Kai glanced at Alex, who smirked. Whenever Neil started the sunrise bonfire, the odds of a practical lesson increased dramatically. 82.3%, to be exact. Alex had calculated it for him last night, and Alex was never wrong.
“Today’s lesson is about stress management.” Neil tapped his cane against the heavy wooden box beside him. “The first few minutes of a trial are crucial. Daisy doesn’t like explaining the rules, and we all have a lot riding on good results. That kind of pressure can lock you up, make you hesitate when you can’t afford to. We’re going to prepare ourselves for that.”
Kai had helped carry the box earlier, but Neil had refused to say what was inside. Now that he stood beside it, Kai noticed small holes in the dark wood. Heavy locks had kept the lid shut—until now. Neil slipped a key from one of his many pockets and unfastened them with a series of dull clicks.
The lid swung open.
Kai’s body reacted before his brain fully processed what he was seeing. He took a step back, his stomach twisting.
The box was full of snakes.
A shifting, slithering mass of them, their slick bodies coiling over one another, tongues flicking the air.
Neil studied the group’s reactions, his gaze settling on Kai. A slow, mischievous grin stretched across his lined face.
“Kai, come here.”
A sharp slap on the back made Kai jolt. Alex chuckled. “Looks like you won.”
Kai didn’t move. He hated snakes. Had Neil noticed how he’d jumped back? Was that why he picked him? His hands clenched at his sides, though his feet remained stubbornly rooted to the spot.
Neil gestured toward the box again. “Come on, take a closer look.”
Kai swallowed. Keeping his distance, he leaned forward slightly, trying to focus on anything other than the writhing movement.
“Closer.”
He took another hesitant step, leaning just enough to make out individual patterns on the snakes’ scales. “What am I supposed to—”
A sudden force hit his legs.
His balance vanished.
Kai barely had time to gasp before he was tumbling forward, the world tilting as he fell.
Cold, dry bodies pressed against his skin. The weight of the lid closed in overhead. Locks clicked shut.
And then, the snakes moved.
Panic crashed over him, raw and overwhelming. Kai thrashed, his body surging with blind desperation, trying to claw at the wooden walls, to find an escape that wasn’t there. His breath came in ragged gasps, his chest tightening.
“LET ME OUT! LET ME OUT!”
Neil’s voice filtered through the box, maddeningly calm. “Try to remain still. Remember, they won’t hurt you. No matter how real it feels, Daisy will never hurt you. Remember that.”
But he was too scared to be appeased. He could feel them. Slithering over his arms, coiling near his legs. His body had long since stopped obeying rational thought, his breath coming in short, panicked bursts. The scent of wood and something earthy filled his nose. His hands burned from how tightly he had curled his fingers into fists.
Minutes passed. Or maybe just seconds—it was impossible to tell.
“The worst part is the first minute. Your brain will make it worse than it is. Breathe through it,” Neil kept encouraging.
His muscles were still locked, his skin crawling at every shifting movement. But his mind clung to the thought, forcing him to do something beyond panic.
He sucked in a breath, though it came out in a shudder. Then another.
“Focus on your breathing,” Neil said, as if sensing his struggle. “Try to relax. Your brain knows what to do. Just breathe and let it work.”
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Kai exhaled slowly, though the tension still held firm in his chest.
“What… what am I supposed to do?” he managed through clenched teeth.
“The 45th exams inspired this exercise.” Neil’s voice was slightly fainter now—he was talking to the others, continuing his lesson while Kai was still trapped inside. “Something similar happened then, but I don’t have any cockroaches or crabs, so I had to make do.”
Kai groaned, shifting slightly as another snake slithered too close to his arm. “Neil. What do I need to do to get out?”
“The challenge is simple.” Neil was speaking directly to him again. “Somewhere inside that box, there’s a flashlight and a sudoku puzzle. Solve one, and you’re free.”
Kai’s entire body burned with the urge to scream. His hatred for Neil’s lessons had never been stronger.
*
Present, 353rd Daisy Trials.
The session of training from all those years ago flashed through Kai’s mind. He repeated the words that Neil spoke those many years ago. “Your brain will make it worse than it is. Breathe through it.”
So he did. He breathed. He managed to exhale slowly, grounding himself in the moment.
One problem at a time. Think, analyze, act.
The first step was gathering information. He needed something concrete to anchor his mind. His eyes flicked upward. The sun’s position—it was almost at its peak. It had been noon when he was plugged in. That meant time in the simulation matched real time.
His heartbeat steadied. One piece of useful information.
Next, a physical check. His shoulders felt heavier than usual. He reached up and traced his fingers over a solid, cuboid device strapped around his neck. His fingers brushed over an empty slot, then a short metal cylinder with a glass lens embedded in it.
A camera?
He turned it over, feeling for more details. The design was ancient, but familiar. He found a button and hesitated. What would happen if he pressed it? He took a breath and decided there was only one way to find out.
Kai adjusted his grip on the device and pressed the button. A mechanical click sounded.
Capture failed. Try again.
Tries left: 19 of 20.
Time left in Snap Arena: 1:59:36.
He frowned. Was that all the information Daisy was going to give him? The notification vanished as quickly as it appeared, leaving him alone with more questions than answers.
Complaining wouldn’t help. He inhaled, forcing his mind to work through the facts. The device felt familiar—an old model of a holographic camera, if he wasn’t mistaken. Yet, something was off. It only had a single lens. A true holograph needed multiple angles to construct a 3D rendering.
His eyes swept the forest, but there was no one else in sight. The only sound was the wind shifting through the trees. A solo challenge, then.
That’s fine. I work better alone.
He reconsidered what little he knew.
-
He was in something called a Snap Arena.
-
There was a strict time limit.
-
The device had limited uses—only 20 shots.
And he’d already wasted one attempt.
Testing his theory, he lifted the camera again, this time searching for some way to aim. He ran his fingers along the top and found a tiny square of glass near the upper left corner—an old-fashioned viewfinder. He pressed his eye to it.
A tree filled the frame.
Good enough.
He aligned the shot and pressed the button. The machine whirred to life, gears clicking in a rhythmic sequence. A thin sheet of plastic slowly emerged from a slot on its side. Kai watched in confusion as it finished printing, a single high-pitched beep confirming completion.
Capture successful!
Tries left: 18 of 20.
Kai turned the small card in his hand. One side was pure black. The other held a picture of the tree, centered in the frame. He frowned.
This isn’t a holograph.
It was something far more ancient.
A photograph.
The realization sent a ripple of unease through him. Daisy’s trials were always built around advanced technology, yet this was archaic. Why?
His eyes dropped to the tiny print below the image.
Pine Tree ?? (Common)
3 of 5
Hit Points: 2
Victory Points: 1
He turned the card over again, half-expecting something new to appear. The stats didn’t change.
Hit points? Victory points? He frowned. Is this tree supposed to be part of my score?
Before he could puzzle it out, the card shimmered. It broke apart into tiny motes of light, vanishing from his hand.
A new notification blinked into existence.
[Pine Tree ??] added to your inventory.
Kai frowned. Where did the card go? It had just been in his hand. He turned his palm over, but there was nothing.
Was this what Daisy meant by inventory? He tried thinking about it, willing some kind of menu to appear. Nothing happened. He tried again. Still nothing.
Frustrated, he muttered, “Inventory.”
For a second, there was no response. Then, a faint shimmer flickered in the air before him, forming a floating, translucent square. The interface resembled the notifications Daisy had given him earlier. His eyes scanned it quickly.
His card was there.
Relief settled over him. At least he hadn’t lost it. His gaze locked onto the numbers again—Victory Points: 1. That had to be the key. If victory points were tracked, then the goal was obvious: he had to collect as many as possible before time ran out.
Although he had a general objective now, countless questions remained.
Is this the whole game?
It wasn’t unheard of for a trial to be short. The 132nd trial had lasted just thirty minutes. But that was rare. Most challenges stretched over days, and the 2nd trial had lasted an entire month.
He had no way of knowing whether this would be a sprint or a marathon.
If this was the entire trial, and he was competing against over five hundred trial runners, then speed was everything. The best cards would go to the fastest. If he hesitated, he’d be left scavenging scraps.
His pulse quickened, but the nagging uncertainties in his mind refused to fade.
Why is this tree labeled ‘Common’?
What other categories are there?
Why did it say ‘3 of 5’ when I’ve only taken two pictures?
And what does ‘Hit Points’ even mean?
He needed more data.
Lifting the camera, he lined up the same tree again and pressed the button.
Capture failed. Try again.
Tries left: 17 of 20.
Kai’s stomach sank.
That hadn’t gone well. Instead of clearing his doubts, he now had more.
Why did the first picture count, but this one didn’t? Is there a restriction on taking multiple images of the same thing?
His jaw clenched.
Three shots wasted. One point. If I keep this up, I won’t just fall behind—I’ll be out before I even figure out the rules.
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