There was a tooth-aching sound of metal grinding as a child walked into the room. There was a heavy closing of the door behind him, and he didn't realize it.

It's a dungeon, dark and damp. The child went to the corner and carefully removed his bedding from a neatly heaped pile of hay. His little hand touched it and breathed a sigh of relief. As luck would have it this time, the futon was barely soaked. Six months and thirteen days had passed, and he still remembered the beginning. Covered with wet bedding every night, shivering in the dark, like falling into an ice cellar, every night is so difficult, so it is extraordinarily long. Until now, whenever he thinks of that scene, he can't help but shudder. He half-held the futon and walked slowly under his feet. He was still young, holding such a big thing, if he accidentally tripped and fell, he wouldn't want to sleep tonight, he didn't want to relive the past.

The facilities of the dungeon are simple, or rather rudimentary. Sticking to the walls on either side, there is a rectangular cement bed with a barrel in the middle, and beyond that, the most is hay, most of which, of course, is damp. The child goes to the bed on the right, places the bedding on one side where it is still dry, and then begins to clean up the other damp areas. He did it carefully, after all, it was about his sleep tonight, and if he didn't sleep well, it would be difficult for him to survive the next day's training, and under the vicious circle, he might soon be eliminated, and there was only one ending for the eliminator.

Half an hour later, he made the bed out of hay and picked up a notched porcelain bowl with half a bowl of water in it from the edge of the wall. This is presumably the only benefit of the damp dungeon, which also explains the notches on the walls. It was actually a drinking trough that he had spent a lot of time making, which allowed him to get an extra half bowl of water every day. He ignored the suspicious float in the bowl and took a small sip. Then he took out a piece of bread from his bosom and began today's dinner. His number today is 267, two places higher than yesterday, as evidenced by this piece of bread.

The same friction sound, fell into another child, but his condition was a little bad. Blood trickled down the wound on his back, and he struggled a few times, holding his hands on the ground, but unable to get up.

267 put down his dinner, and he walked up to the injured child and picked him up from under his armpit. For him, who has been training for half a year, this is not difficult, although it is heavier than the futon, but he is not afraid of bumps. 267 put him on the bed and fed him some water. He hesitated for a moment, then broke a small piece of his bread and placed it in front of him. He then returned to his bed and continued to enjoy dinner.

This kind of injury is very common, especially at the beginning of training, as long as you don't complete the day's tasks, you will be punished as you deserve, let alone dinner. As time goes on, their training tasks will become heavier and heavier, and it is rare for them to have such injuries again, but that does not mean that they do not have them. Taking a small piece of bread won't affect his state the next day, but he can't possibly give more either. Soon, there was a slight chewing sound in the darkness. Being able to eat means at least that your consciousness is still sober. In this way, the chances of survival are better.

"Thank you."

Sounds came from nowhere, but SCP-267 didn't respond, as if they hadn't heard at all. This is already his third "roommate" after coming to this cell, and I hope the other party can last a little longer, after all, every change needs to re-formulate the rules, which requires some extra effort. Especially his last "roommate", which caused him a lot of trouble. If he could, he wanted to save as much energy as possible for the next day's training instead of wasting his rest time. After all, training is never easy, and whenever he feels like he's getting used to the rhythm, the instructor will increase the amount of training or change the program outright.

Suddenly, SCP-267 woke up to a white mist filling his cell. He began to cough violently, and the strong smell irritated his trachea. He tore a long strip of cloth from his body, quickly soaked it in a small half bowl of water, then wiped his eyes and tied them around his ears and nose. He had just finished all of this when there was a jingle and then a cold sound.

"Five minutes later, a living man came out."

It was the instructor's voice, and 267 recognized it. There are no conditions to speak in the dungeon, and the instructor's words are the only criterion, which means that only one person can walk out of this cell tonight, or none.

He heard something strange and shook his head. After all, I am a newcomer, and the training time is too short, and I don't understand that I should not do anything to expose my position at any time. And the little strangeness just now came from behind him, and there was a slight heavy panting, although the other party quickly covered it up, how could he let go of this little change. This also told him another thing, the other party was not in his bed.

Three minutes later, the door was unlocked and SCP-267 walked out, indicating that only one corpse remained in the fog. His body was clean, except for a small opening in his left hand, which was caused by his first encounter with his hand grasping the porcelain piece attacked by the opponent. Other than that, there aren't even many traces of a fight in sight.

His instructor stood five paces away, staring at the winning child.

And he faced it calmly, his eyes lowered slightly, but he did not lower his head. His eyes were not cold, nor were they bloodthirsty, and if there was one word to describe, it would be silent. It was as if he had just done something mundane, rather than just finished an unprepared killing.

"Follow me."

Steady and deep sound, as always.

267 followed him and walked out. And what he was thinking about was not everything that had just happened, but maybe his ranking had risen a little, after all, this would eliminate at least half of the people, and maybe this performance would make him eat meat for the first time in a long time.

Tick...... Tick......

——————————————————————————————

Shadow stood in the mist, and he had remained motionless for a long time. Suddenly, his hand flickered, and then he opened his eyes. He looked up, and through the mask, it was a cold gaze. He looked above the mist, then waved his hand. A whirlwind dispersed the fog around him, and he was on a meadow.

"You're going to pay for it."

This time, his tone was no longer a dull coldness, but anger. He rarely remembered the memories of his youth, and it wasn't much pain for him now. But being forced to reminisce still irritated him.

As if in response, a thick cloud began to gather above his head, bright as blood.