An earthy stench mingled with the scent of humus, lingered in the air. Verdant growth stretched as far as the eye could see—thick, fleshy stems gleaming like polished emeralds beneath the sunlight. The soil below was slightly blackened and damp, mirroring the moisture clinging to the leaves that shimmered under the forest’s glow.

  Scott stood motionless, eyes scanning past the vibrant flora.

  Skeletons.

  Dozens of them hung suspended from the surrounding vegetation—bleached white, perfectly intact. Some were human. Others belonged to races he didn’t recognize. But what disturbed him more were the grotesque displays—skeletons sewn together at the skull, twisted into horrifying arrangements like macabre sculptures.

  Then came the system's notifications.

  Experience points? Those are useless to me now, Scott sighed softly. Why didn’t I get the right to choose this time? Was it because I didn’t arrive first?

  Scott’s gaze flicked to notification, lingering on the first option. Wordlessly, he selected The Silent Zone (Personal).

  Scott absorbed the information, then tapped the next.

  Scott nodded slowly. Only two options in, and the structure of the 8th Zone had begun to crystallize in his mind.

  He clicked the third.

  Scott chuckled under his breath. This is definitely going to be the most insane trial yet.

  Then he clicked the last option.

  Scott frowned, eyes narrowing.

  The language was different this time—almost as if the system was shouting at him. Why the emphasis? What the hell is in there?

  Before he could dwell too long, another notification appeared.

  He blinked.

  Each run? Scott stared at the words, frowning.

  “What do you mean by ‘each run’?” he asked aloud.

  The system answered immediately.

  Scott’s breath caught. “What happens if a trialist fails to reach the Final Zone after all their runs?”

  Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

  He already suspected the answer.

  Still, the system gave it plainly.

  Scott wore a dry smile. “I knew it,” he muttered. “Whether they’d be welcomed as living or dead members of The Hive is another thing.” He sighed softly, casting his gaze over the skeletal remains hanging from the vegetation once more.

  It’s hard to say what happened to them… he mused, eyes scanning the bleached bones. But for these ones, it’s clear—they chose to end it all rather than… His thoughts trailed off. He sighed again, shaking his head.

  He stepped forward, his boot sinking into the loose, damp earth. An eerie stillness reminiscent of the Silent City loomed over the vast terrain. No wind, no hidden croaks or distant creaks. Even the leaves, frozen in place, refused to rustle beneath the piercing light from above.

  The soft, wet press of his boots echoed as Scott continued deeper into the zone. Though foreign, the flora remained monotonous—almost lifeless in its strange uniformity.

  Then, he halted. He couldn’t move another inch. Something blocked his path: a barrier—ashen-grey, sleek like silvered steel, towering above the vegetation. It encircled the zone completely.

  This must be what’s keeping the Hive and Garden Servants at bay, he thought, stretching out a hand to touch the surface. Cold. Smooth. Sleek.

  He gave it a soft knock.

  A muffled chime echoed—dull and inconsequential.

  Unbreakable. Probably forged from something on par with divine ore…

  He lowered his hand after another gentle tap and turned to leave.

  Then—a knock came in response.

  Scott froze.

  Another knock. Disjointed. Persistent. Almost... questioning.

  He narrowed his eyes and tapped the barrier again.

  No response.

  Guess they left—

  A thunderous bang shattered the silence. Bestial roars followed, along with the horrid scrape of claws dragging across sleek surfaces.

  The tremors intensified. Even the once-still vegetation began to shudder.

  Before his eyes, the plants reacted—like Mimosa pudica. Leaves shrank, curling inward, hiding from the disturbance. Trees trembled violently… then sank into the earth. One after the other. Within a minute, the once-dense forest had become a barren field, punctuated by holes and mounds.

  Scott barely registered the vanishing flora. The sudden flood of sunlight now revealed the source above—grotesque faces, pressed against the translucent dome. Eyes glowing like fluorescents. Brownish drool spilled from twisted mouths that moved soundlessly.

  They stared at him—and he at them.

  The pounding intensified. The earth shook with every impact. Whatever was beyond the dome wanted in. Desperately.

  But Scott’s gaze remained fixed on the horrific visages. His expression unchanged. Breathing calm.

  Look at those ugly bastards… They think I’m prey.

  He chuckled softly.

  At that moment, the monsters’ luminous eyes shifted. Their mouths twisted into voiceless cackles, drooling harder as if amused.

  Scott blinked, and he followed their gaze.

  Since when was that there?

  A door—titanic and partly obscured by slime—had appeared in the barrier wall. Sickly green muck oozed down its metallic surface.

  The exit? Scott wondered. It must’ve stayed hidden—until I knocked earlier.

  The innocuous knock had triggered a chain of events he never could have predicted. The sentient flora had hidden the door—perhaps even the monsters above. Now, both were exposed.

  Scott burst into laughter.

  He glanced back up at the dome. The creatures stared hungrily, drool pouring like syrup.

  “I thought they wanted to eat me,” he muttered, still chuckling. “But these guys want to use me as manure?”

  The grotesque faces turned from him, their gazes locking on the door.

  Then—for the first time—the banging stopped.

  Silence. Heavy. Suffocating.

  Then, BOOM—it resumed, louder, fiercer, more focused.

  This time, the pounding came from behind the door.

  Can they actually get in? Scott wondered, staring at the still-closed door with quiet indifference.

  His gaze lingered on the persistent system notification. Now that the trees are gone, there’s really nothing left of interest here. I’m eager to see how the active zone compares to this dead place.

  He tapped the glowing panel, prompting a new message to appear.

  A low rumble filled Scott’s ears as the slime coating the door visibly began to harden. Then came a series of cracks, thin as spiderwebs, spreading rapidly across its surface.

  Groans echoed above. Scott looked up to find the Garden Servants quivering with visible ecstasy, their grotesque faces pressed against the dome. The hardened slime started to fall away in chunks, each piece landing with a muffled thud, half-sinking into the damp earth.

  It should be opening soon. I’d better get moving, Scott thought, approaching the now-stirring gate at a measured pace.

  The pounding from the other side intensified with every step, but he moved without hesitation. Then, a long creak pierced the silence as the doors slowly parted—just an inch. The banging ceased. In their place, the voiceless moans of the Garden Servants reached an eerie crescendo.

  Scott reached out toward the opening, but nothing happened.

  Still no access to the Nihilistic Zone, he noted with a sigh. Guess the overseer’s still interfering.

  He nodded slightly, eyes sharp. Let’s see what—or who—was making all that noise.

  The gate continued to open with a grinding groan. Scott stopped a few feet away as a cold breeze washed over him—fresh and sharp, scented with mint and lavender, yet chilling enough to freeze moisture into crystals on the ground.

  His focus, however, was fixed on the figures emerging behind the door.

  Towering dog-like hybrids emerged—monstrous beasts covered in deep crimson fur. Where flesh should have been on their skulls, there was only bone wreathed in neon-blue fire. The rest of their bodies, however, throbbed with living muscle, brimming with strength and untamed fury.

  Though eyeless, Scott could feel their hunger, their focus. Their raw savagery.

  There were at least a dozen, but no more than twenty. He spared no glance at the terrain beyond the safe zone. His attention was wholly on the beasts—and on the fact that, strangely, none of them crossed the threshold into the Silent Zone.

  So they’re really bound by the rules after all, Scott realized. No Hive members or Garden Servants allowed inside the personal Silent Zones.

  The doors now stood fully open. The beasts held their position, growling low.

  Scott stepped forward slowly, ignoring the prompt.

  “Let’s see what you doggies can do,” he said, a smirk playing on his lips. But there was nothing friendly in it.

  He rolled his neck, stretching with audible cracks. His knuckles followed.

  Then—he vanished.

  With a violent burst of speed, Scott lunged toward the exit. The creatures howled in unison, muscles flexing in anticipation.