With the arrow heading towards him, there was nowhere to go. Just one step in any direction meant death.

So Lukas dropped into a crouch.

The farrow passed over his head, close enough that he felt the displacement of air above him. He came back up immediately and looked at the shooter to see that ten more arrows were already in the air.

The man had kept firing arrows even as the first one left his bow, knowing that whether his enemy was strong or weak, all he needed to do was overwhelm them.

Just one arrow landing in a vital spot should be enough to kill Lukas.

As expected, all the arrows passed through [Hex Shield] just like the first arrow.

The shield was useless against this particular skill, so Lukas stopped trying to use it.

With the options before him, there was only one thing he could do to get out of this.

He bent his knees and launched himself up with everything his legs had, sailing into the air.

The ten arrows passed beneath him, hitting nothing.

And before the man could fire new arrows at him in the air, Lukas extended his arm towards the man below and fired [Death Bolt].

The bolt of necrotic energy crossed the distance fast, looking like dark mist with flecks of purple inside it.

The man reacted immediately, throwing up a wall of the same purple energy that had produced the arrows.

The bolt hit the wall and began eating into it, the necrotic energy consuming it and forcing the man to keep feeding mana into the barrier to maintain it.

And with his attention on the wall, the man didn’t even notice the attack before it slammed into him.

The full strength of [Smite] slammed into the man, the golden divine light descending without warning.

This was not the weak or watered down version he’d been using at the Prodigy Tournament, so the attack killed the man instantly, burning him to a crisp.

The purple wall crumbled the instant he died, and his corpse stood there for a moment, before falling backwards off the tile, then instantly swallowed up by the darkness.

Lukas descended and landed on his original flashing tile.

He didn’t wait to check how many seconds still remain before jumping again, crossing the dark gap and landing on the now empty tile.

He straightened, eyes going to the ceiling to check the fiery countdown. There were less than thirty seconds left.

Around the room, the other survivors were finishing their own battles. Of course, not everyone had to fight, but there was a player who floated above the floor with some kind of flight skill.

He was currently trading attacks with another player who had planted themselves on their tile and was holding a defensive position behind a barrier that refused to break.

The flying player hammered at it from multiple angles but wasn’t able to break through.

That was how he spent his time, launching stronger and stronger attacks until the countdown reached zero.

Every remaining flashing tile dropped into darkness simultaneously.

The flying player, who was still in the air, had no tile beneath them when the time ran out.

The darkness below him claimed him immediately and he was gone before he had a chance to scream.

The defensive player stood on their tile, the barrier disappearing as they stared at the space where their opponent had been.

Then they looked around at the remaining survivors.

The room now had a smaller population than it had been at the start, and Lukas could swear that more than half of the players were gone.

He looked up, but this time, the countdown never reappeared.

Instead, light flooded the carriage, and the darkness that had consumed so much of the floor simply reversed, the tiles rising back into place.

The gaps sealed themselves over until the checkered pattern was whole again.

The game had ended.

Murmurs filled the air, each player staring at the other in confusion. The end was a bit... abrupt.

The door opened, and the temperature in the room dropped by several degrees as the conductor entered, his Adept aura spreading out and settling over the survivors like a second ceiling.

Nobody moved from where they stood. This was because of the still present fear that the tiles could drop under them.

But there was also the instinct to stay still in the presence of that much concentrated power standing before them in the form of an Adept.

"Congratulations," the conductor said, a note of excitement in their voice. "That was indeed a beautiful showing from each and everyone of you."

He stared at them.

"And now, thirty-two of you remain. You will gather again tomorrow night for the final two rounds."

They raised a hand.

Cloaked figures moved through the room from the edges, weaving between the survivors, pressing a joker card into each person’s hand as they passed.

These were their new entry tokens for the following night.

"Rest well," the conductor said.

Then they turned and left, the door closing behind them.

The Adept aura receded slowly.

The thirty-two survivors stood on the restored tiles and looked at each other across the carriage.

Some were injured, and others were still breathing hard.

On the faces of some players was surprise that they’d somehow survived the round, while others had poker faces on.

One player moved to the exit without a word, leaving the door shut behind them as they left.

The remaining survivors stood in silence for almost thirty seconds before a second player moved to the exit, opening the door and leaving.

And before long, almost by silent agreement, each player began leaving, waiting thirty seconds before making their way out of the carriage.

Soon, it was Lukas’ turn and he was out of the carriage.

He moved quickly through the dark connecting passages, his cloth mask still in place.

There were no patrol officers this time, and with the corridors still empty, it didn’t take long for him to reach his carriage.

He knocked on the bunk room door in the pattern they’d agreed on, then he pushed it open and looked inside.

The room was empty.

He stepped in, frowning.

Where had his wives gone?