Chapter 173
Raven
The march to the mess tent felt like a death march—twelve exhausted candidates trudging through mud, following Reeves's barked commands like obedient dogs. My ribs still ached from the log crossing, but I kept my face neutral. Show weakness here, and these people would tear you apart like sharks smelling blood.
Though honestly, most of them already look half-dead.
The tent loomed ahead, surrounded by at least forty soldiers standing at attention. Inside, a single wooden table displayed our "feast"—twelve neat portions of military rations. One can per person. One bottle of water per person.
I watched Katya's eyes light up like it was Christmas morning.
Poor thing. She has no idea.
"Alright, listen up!" Reeves's voice cut through the group's collective salivating. "I need to take a piss. Nobody—and I mean nobody—touches that food until I get back. We clear?"
A chorus of reluctant acknowledgments.
Reeves strode off toward the tree line, and the moment he disappeared, I noticed the subtle shift. The soldiers who'd been standing rigid suddenly relaxed. Shoulders dropped. Eyes wandered. A few even turned their backs to us entirely.
Too convenient.
Katya leaned closer, whispering urgently. "Raven, something's wrong."
"Obviously."
"No, I mean—" She gestured at the table. "Count them."
I already had. "Nine cans. Twelve people."
Ethan adjusted his glasses, his analytical mind churning. "Three people won't have enough calories to maintain peak performance in the next challenge. That's... deliberate."
"Meaning three of us are designed to fail," I said softly, studying the soldiers' body language. "The question is whether they want us to notice."
"Maybe it's first-come, first-served?" Katya suggested, though her tone held zero confidence. "The soldiers are practically falling asleep. Maybe we're supposed to just... take it?"
"Doubtful." I folded my arms. "When something seems too easy, it usually is."
A voice boomed from across the tent, proving my point.
"FUCK THIS."
Everyone turned. Maddox—the six-foot-three wall of muscle who'd dominated the log crossing through sheer brute force—was already striding toward the table. His two teammates, equally massive, fell into formation behind him like well-trained gorillas.
"I'm not waiting around for that asshole to come back and tell us three of us don't get to eat," Maddox announced, his voice dripping with contempt. "Food's limited? Fine. I'm taking mine now."
"Reeves said to wait!" one of the other candidates protested weakly.
Maddox laughed—a harsh, grating sound. "That's the problem with you people. You follow orders like sheep." He planted both hands on the table, leaning forward with a predatory grin. "The real test isn't following rules. It's knowing when to break them. You see those soldiers turning their backs? You think Reeves 'forgot' to leave enough food? Wake up. This is about initiative. Survival of the smartest."
He grabbed a can, turning it over in his massive palm. "The brave make the rules. The weak follow them."
His words hit like gasoline on a fire. I could see it in their faces—the shift from uncertainty to desperation. Hands twitched toward the table. Feet shuffled forward.
Sheep. Every single one of them.
Ethan stepped forward, ever the voice of reason. "Wait. If we divide the nine portions equally among twelve people, we can calculate optimal caloric distribution. Mash everything together, add water to create a gruel—each person loses approximately 25% of their intake, but it's sustainable—"
"Shut the fuck up, Four-Eyes." Maddox didn't even look at him. "This isn't a charity. It's special forces. Weak get cut. Strong survive. My team takes four cans. You people can fight over what's left."
His two teammates immediately moved to flank the table, muscles flexing beneath their tactical gear.
Katya's face flushed red. She started forward, fists clenched, but I caught her shoulder.
"Let them fight," I said calmly.
She whirled on me, eyes wide. "What? Raven, we need—"
Katya's face flushed red. She started forward, fists clenched, but I caught her shoulder.
"Let them fight," I said calmly. "Relax. We'll have plenty to eat."
The tent went silent. Hands that had been reaching for cans suddenly froze. Even Maddox paused mid-reach, turning to stare at me with something between confusion and amusement.
"Plenty to eat?" He barked out a laugh. "What, you gonna pull a steak out of your ass, gymnast girl? Or maybe flip around until food magically appears?"
Several people chuckled nervously—but I noticed nobody resumed reaching for the cans.
Maddox's grin widened as he cracked his knuckles, taking a step toward me. "What's wrong, princess? You afraid? All that fancy flipping on the log was impressive, sure. But fighting over food?" He gestured at the table. "This requires actual balls. You gonna stand there and not even try to grab one?"
I tilted my head, regarding him with the kind of detached curiosity usually reserved for particularly stupid lab rats.
"Fight over that?" I gestured lazily at the table. "Why would I do that? Have you people never watched Planet Earth?"
Blank stares.
"When a hunter wants to catch greedy rats," I explained slowly, as if speaking to children, "the best method isn't setting traps. It's leaving out a pile of delicious, aromatic cheese." I pointed at the cans. "Reeves didn't say those were for us. He said don't touch them. 'Wait until I get back.' Now I'm wondering what exactly he's coming back for."
I paused, letting that sink in.
"Maybe it's to collect bodies."