The Will To Survive

Min-Jae stood frozen, his breath shallow as chaos unfolded before him. Children tore at each other like starving animals, fists pounding against fragile bodies, desperation overriding reason. The cave echoed with screams of pain, of hunger, of fear.

He could only watch, numb.

Jin-Woo… Where are you? Are you safe?

His little brother's innocent smile flashed in his mind, the warmth of his tiny hand still lingering in his memory. That was the only thing that mattered—getting back to Jin-Woo. But could he? Could he become like them? Could he kill, just to eat?

His stomach twisted painfully. Hunger clawed at him, but he stayed where he was, unable to move, unable to fight. He wouldn't—he couldn't.

That first day, Min-Jae ate nothing.

The second day was worse. His body weakened, his thoughts dulled. He watched as the food supply lessened, the children growing fiercer, more savage. The instructor said nothing, merely observing from the shadows.

By the third day, the pain became unbearable. His hands trembled, his head pounded, his vision blurred. The scent of food made his stomach twist with agonizing hunger.

Survive.

The word echoed in his mind, stronger than before.

Jin-Woo is waiting for me. I have to survive.

On the fourth day, he made his choice.

Min-Jae stepped forward, his weakened body moving with cold resolve. He had fought before, defending himself and his brother from bandits and street thugs. Against these children, he was faster, stronger. His first opponent was a scrawny boy, weak from hunger. With a single strike to the stomach, the boy collapsed. The second fell just as easily.

He won. He ate.

Days passed. Fights became routine. Children dropped like flies—either slain or starved. The cavern reeked of blood and decay.

By the tenth day, only 23 remained.

Then, the instructor returned.

"You have done well to survive." His voice was as cold as ever, devoid of praise. "But this was only the beginning."

A flicker of hope lit the children's tired eyes. Had they proven themselves? Would the suffering end?

"You will now receive food individually," the instructor continued. A murmur of relief spread through the group.

But it was short-lived.

"Now begins the Five Trials of Hell."

Silence.

"The weak have been weeded out, but that is not enough. You will endure five trials—trials that will push you past your limits. Those who fail will die. Only the strongest will remain."

The days that followed were worse than anything Min-Jae had imagined.

Each trial was more brutal than the last—fighting without rest, enduring torturous conditions, surviving deadly traps meant to claim their lives. Pain became constant. Fear became a companion. And death… death was everywhere.

By the end of the fifth trial, only seven children remained.

Min-Jae stood among them, his body battered, his mind numb. He had survived. But at what cost?

The instructor watched them with calculating eyes. "Now, the real training begins."

Min-Jae barely had time to process those words before the final blow struck.

"For the next seven years, you will train. You will become the deadliest weapons of the Murim Alliance."

Seven. Years.

His heart stopped. His legs gave out beneath him. Seven years? That long? He had to get back to Jin-Woo! He had to—

"No! Let me go!" His voice cracked as he screamed, desperation finally breaking through his hardened resolve. "I can't stay here! Let me go!"

A fist struck him across the face.

He collapsed to the ground, blood pooling in his mouth.

No one helped him.

No one cared.

As darkness consumed him once more, only one thought remained.

Jin-Woo… I'm sorry.