The Twin Enigma

It was the truth.

Humanity had been judged.

Seraphine stood straight, unharmed. Her right thigh was fine. Her ribs were intact. She had died and been reborn.

Is there extraterrestrial life in this universe?

Of course. By the 21st century, humanity had long known of its existence.

But could extraterrestrial beings have mystical abilities, like those gods of legend?

Of course, it would. Seraphine had always known this.

Those ignorant people, who held up signs proclaiming "pure science" to dismiss mystical theories, failed to grasp the deep connection between science and the mystical. The mystical birthed science. Today's truth is never the final answer. What is deemed 'impossible' is only a boundary of perception. When context shifts, the impossible becomes possible.

The limit of reality does not equate to the absolute limit.

In this multi-dimensional universe, the only law is that anything is possible.

Honestly, she welcomed their arrival. It had been so long since anything felt new in this dull world. They were the change she had been waiting for. But wait... The young woman frowned as a strange memory flooded her mind. Those beings had invaded her mind, manipulated her thoughts, and forced her to retain memories that weren't her own. Seraphine suddenly shuddered. An overwhelming urge surged within her—to dissect their brains.

Peel. Dissect. Study.

Desecrate their brains! Just as they had done to hers!

Seraphine caressed her chest, feeling the lungs intact and the breath slowly returning to normal.

Intact ribs. Steady breath.

Oxygen—does it have a taste?

Absolutely delicious!

As the memory of humanity's judgment faded, a familiar voice echoed from the void.

"Greetings, humanity. The Judge's Arena awaits beyond the door. When ready, call my name, the great scholar Amurda Byis Zylorn. Prove to me how you arrived at the arena. I will determine your qualifications. Remember, only one chance. There is nothing beyond humanity's grasp. Failure… Caw caw caw… You will rot in this room…"

He whispered: "Until death."

The room was cloaked in darkness, as suffocating as the bleak future awaiting humanity. A single ray of light pierced through the nothingness, shining straight down from an indeterminate height, casting a shadow on the young woman's hair and a book lying silently on the floor. Seraphine narrowed her eyes, tilted her head back, and stared intently at the deep blackness above. That light—like the mysterious presence of those beings—appeared from nowhere, hovering, silent, nameless.

This was the first time she had heard the "Caw caw caw" laughter pronounced so clearly in reality. It seemed that the "great scholar Amurda Byis Zylorn" had just finished reading a few human books and couldn't wait to show it off.

But that was not something to worry about. What was important was that since Amurda's voice disappeared, Seraphine felt a gaze watching her. It wasn't just an ordinary stare—it was precise, clinical. A chilling, slick gaze slithered over her skin, leaving behind an invisible residue of something foul—something hungry. It dissected her with its stare—measuring, savoring, as though deciding where to make the first cut.

She was not alone.

"Hi." The young woman said, her voice cutting through the wheezing breaths of a creature nearby.

The main actors fully under the spotlight were her, and many other humans. So, who would be the audience? The young woman looked straight into the darkness in front of her, waving her hand in greeting, her face as beautiful as a painting. She parted her red lips and bit her own thumb.

Snap!

It was the sound of a fingernail being bitten, not traveling through the air, but transmitted directly through her jawbone, skull, and to her inner ear. Seraphine calmly spat out a piece of fingernail. She glanced to both sides, then turned around, her face expressionless.

Regardless of who the audience was, she simply needed to 'perform' at her best, then snatch her enormous fee.

Would they be able to pay? Seraphine calmly stared at the door ahead, prepared to collect payment with their lives.

She couldn't play the role of a victim trampled to death for free!

A blood debt, of course, demands payment in blood!

A hand reached out and knocked gently on the door. The sound was dull, firm, cold—unyielding. It was clear: this was the door to the arena.

A door, about one meter long, with the cold color of metal—a type of code, 4 digits.

A code... Good news. Seraphine smiled in satisfaction. A code meant a requirement for thinking, which also meant a higher probability of survival.

The door had been found, very easily, already behind her. So, next was to find the code.

Turning around, and kneeling down, the young woman picked up the red-covered book in front of her, knelt neatly, and placed it on her lap. Under the shining light, even though that slimy gaze still followed her like a shadow, she leisurely bowed her head respectfully, as if performing some ritual and then slowly opened the book.

"Twin Enigma." The murmur echoed in the silent, dark space. Seraphine glanced at the title, then continued to look down at the poem below.

Twins born together, a bond so tight,

Hands that touch, through the darkest night,

Through four seasons, they dance and they glide,

Like the perfect number, side by side.

A sword swings down, dividing them apart,

Without the twins, death strikes at the heart.

Below the poem was an illustration.

The creature drawn was bizarre like a monitor lizard, but its eyes were fiery red with vertical black pupils that seemed to pierce through bone. It exuded the deadly aura of a supreme predator, with shark-like teeth, scythe-like claws, and skin covered in steel-like, blood-tinged thorns. Most terrifyingly, it had two deformed upper bodies, twisted together, sharing a single lower body, a grotesque fusion of horror.

It was a two-headed twin creature.

Below the drawing was a caption:

Murak – a creature from the planet Khaza

Basic parameters according to Earth measurements:

Height: 30-40 cm

Length: 3-3.5 m

Weight: up to 300 kg

Speed: up to 20 m/s

Bite force: 5200 psi

Seraphine pursed her lips and flipped through the remaining pages. They were all blank. Only the first two pages contained the cipher. Holding the book in her hand, her watery blue eyes stared intently into the darkness ahead. In that place, in the darkness, were there two pairs of eyes watching her?

This room, according to Amurda Byis Zylorn, must contain something. Something to prevent humanity from "entering the arena" and make "rotting in this room until death" a nightmare.

Those extraterrestrial beings had no reason to let humans starve or die of thirst in this room. They had chosen extermination from the start – a quick death instead of a prolonged one.

How ironic! Seraphine calmly closed the book. Was this the mercy of "higher beings"? It was no different from the so-called "humane slaughter" that humans deluded themselves with.

Not killing a death row inmate, but throwing him into hell; if he had the ability, he would survive; if he didn't, he would die a more torturous death.

They were "sifting for gold."

But she didn't want to be just a grain of sand.

Nor did she want to become prey for any creature.

As Lord Eldarion reminded humans: "The arena is fair to everyone." Intelligence and strength needed to be evaluated in situations where one or both could be used to solve the problem. With such an "entry-level" challenge, Seraphine believed it would fall into the former category.

So, if a creature like Murak existed in this room, it certainly couldn't attack immediately. There must be an initial safe period. Seraphine pondered. But how long would it be safe? 1 minute, 5 minutes, or 10 minutes? Based on humanity's intelligence and arm strength index data, she guessed, not less than 10 minutes, it had to be.

"A sword swings down, dividing them apart, Without the twins, death strikes at the heart."

Everything was clear. The code had also been deduced. She just needed to find the sword.

Under the single ray of light, Seraphine looked around. There were only three things: herself, the book, and the door. If the 'sword' in the poem existed, it must be hidden in the darkness.

Wheeze!

The young woman held the book, estimating its length, about 20 cm. Then she pressed her back against the door, leaned against the wall, and crept step by step to the left, her left arm always extended, tightly gripping one end of the book.

Rustle!

It was the sound of the book cover rubbing against the wall.

Wheeze!

Again mixed with the breath of some creature.

Navigating through the absolute darkness felt like trying to thread a needle while blindfolded. She walked slowly, her back pressed against the wall, listening to the "Wheeze" sound in Murak's throat, occasionally glancing at the only ray of light in the room, carefully controlling each step.

The wall, the creature's breath, and the ray of light—these became her only reference points in the pitch-black room.

Ten steps. Eleven steps. Reached the corner of the wall. The young woman continued to move to the next side of the room.

Wheeze—the breath had become smaller and smaller.

Twenty steps. Touched another corner of the wall. Seraphine did not stop but groped her way to the third side of the room.

The loud breathing subsided, then slowly died out. The creature's breathing ceased, then faded into eerie silence, making the young woman also stop abruptly. She tilted her head to listen, the corner of her lips slightly raised. This was the instinct of a predator—the closer the prey, the stiller the hunter became. She carefully crouched down, slowly pushing the book along the wall until the hardcover touched something. Her small hand, holding one end of the book, gently felt the obstacle.

It was flat. It was a wall.

Without hesitation, Seraphine immediately turned her head and backed away until she reached the second wall.

The creature seemed to have also realized that its wrong move had lost the opportunity to get close to its prey. From the moment Seraphine changed direction, it no longer restrained itself and breathed heavily, occasionally letting out terrifying hisses. Two fiery red eyes silently hid in the darkness, gloomily watching the young woman's footsteps.

It had patience. Not a mindless beast, then. It was waiting, assessing, and perhaps even strategizing.

That was interesting!