Trials of the Continent

Chapter 2: The Six Chosen

The private jet hummed through the night sky with a low, almost mechanical drone that felt unnatural in its silence. Ameir had expected company—perhaps other competitors, or at least someone to explain what was happening—but the cabin was empty, save for himself and the sterile surroundings. The man who had greeted him at the airfield had vanished into the cockpit without a word, leaving Ameir alone in the sleek, metallic cabin. It felt more like a holding cell than a mode of transportation, its cold, minimalist design offering little comfort. The faint scent of polished leather and metal hung in the air, mingling with the ever-present hum of the engines.
The walls were lined with smooth, reflective panels that bent the light in strange ways, adding to the unease that had settled in his chest. Small, tinted windows blurred the view outside, the blackness of the night sky barely discernible. A tray of untouched food sat before him, the plastic clamshell sealed tightly, as if the meal itself were too ordinary to offer any solace. Ameir's appetite had long since evaporated, replaced by an insistent buzz of questions that had taken root in his mind, unanswered and nagging.
He couldn't stop thinking about the letter—the letter that had changed everything. The thick, luxurious parchment with its mysterious inscription: The Trials of the Continent. What kind of trials? Who were the other competitors? And why had he been chosen for this? He wasn't special, not in any way that mattered outside his village. His skills as an inventor were notable in his community, but surely that wasn't enough to make him worthy of something so grand, so... cryptic.
The weight of the letter pressed on him, even now. He had folded it carefully, a constant reminder of the responsibility he hadn't yet fully grasped. And now, as he sat in the strange, suffocating silence of the jet, he couldn't stop wondering about his family, his sister Layla. The way she had looked at him when he'd told her he was leaving—her eyes wide with concern, but also hope. She had believed this could be his big break, a chance to show the world what he could do. But could it? Or was this some elaborate trap designed to exploit his skills, his dreams?
His fingers drummed restlessly on the edge of the tray as his thoughts turned to his father, who had always taught him to trust his instincts. But his father wasn't here, and this... this felt too big, too foreign, for Ameir to navigate alone.
Suddenly, the jet lurched, the engines roaring as the cabin tilted. Ameir's breath caught in his throat, and his body instinctively clenched as the turbulence rattled the smooth interior. His heart skipped a beat as he gripped the armrests. For a moment, the world outside seemed to tilt, and the sensation of falling washed over him. He hadn't expected the flight to be so unsettling.
"Please prepare for landing," a voice crackled through the intercom, calm and robotic, offering no comfort.
Landing? Already? Ameir's mind scrambled to make sense of it. He hadn't anticipated this part of the journey to feel so sudden. He glanced out of the window, but all he could see was an impenetrable sea of darkness, the only visual cues the faint silhouettes of distant mountains etched against the sky. The jet's descent was sharp, too fast, and Ameir instinctively braced himself as the roar of the engines intensified.
The world outside grew louder, more tangible, but still nothing more than a blur of shapes and shadows. When the wheels finally touched the ground, there was a jarring moment of weightlessness, followed by the smooth glide of the jet as it slowed. The cabin fell back into that eerie silence once again, its sterile hum filling the void. Ameir remained still, his chest tight, his eyes fixed on the door, waiting.
Minutes ticked by in the uncomfortable stillness. The clock on the wall seemed to mock his impatience, its ticking loud against the quiet. He could feel the weight of the toolbox beside him, a small comfort, but not enough to quell the unease settling deeper in his stomach. He flexed his fingers, the tension palpable in his hands.
At last, the soft hiss of hydraulics broke the silence, and the door opened with a gentle swoosh. Standing at the base of the stairs was a man unlike anyone Ameir had ever encountered. He was tall and impossibly lean, his features sharp in the stark light of the tarmac. His skin was so pale it almost glowed beneath the floodlights, and his hair was slicked back to perfection, each strand in place. The suit he wore was dark and immaculately tailored, the sharp lines of it so precise that it seemed to cut through the air itself.
"Welcome, Mr. Musa," the man said, his voice smooth and unhurried, carrying a strange resonance that put Ameir on edge. "I am Dr. Ames. Please, follow me."
There was something unsettling about the man's presence—too perfect, too controlled. The calculated calmness of his demeanor seemed almost mechanical. Ameir hesitated, his mind racing, but he had come this far. He could not turn back now.
The air outside the jet was cold, biting against his skin as he stepped out into the night. The ground beneath his feet was firm and solid, yet the world around him felt impossibly foreign. Dr. Ames led him across the tarmac to a vehicle waiting nearby, its design unlike anything Ameir had ever seen. Low to the ground, it was sleek and futuristic, with glowing blue lines tracing its contours in a way that seemed almost alive. Its presence was alien, as if it had been plucked from another time.
The interior of the vehicle was equally strange. As soon as Ameir stepped inside, the soft glow of ambient lighting illuminated the cabin, casting the sharp lines of the seats and dashboard in an ethereal light. Dr. Ames sat across from him, his posture as unnervingly perfect as his appearance, his hands folded neatly in his lap.
"You must have questions," Dr. Ames said, his gaze never wavering from Ameir's face.
"That's an understatement," Ameir replied, his voice tight with a mix of frustration and fear.
Dr. Ames smiled—a small, practiced gesture that didn't quite reach his eyes. "All will be revealed in time. For now, know this: you were chosen because you represent something rare. Ingenuity. Creativity. Resilience. The Trials of the Continent are not just a test of individual skill but a competition that will shape the future of humanity."
Ameir's brow furrowed, his impatience rising. "What does that even mean?"
Dr. Ames's smile widened, but his lips remained sealed. He didn't offer further explanation, and the silence that followed seemed to stretch on forever. The vehicle sped through the night, its smooth motion almost lulling Ameir into a daze, the steady hum of the engine the only sound in the cabin. Ameir tried to focus, to think through the implications of everything, but his thoughts were tangled, still trying to make sense of it all.
Eventually, the vehicle slowed, and the world around them shifted. They had arrived at a massive structure that seemed to emerge from the earth itself. Towering spires of steel and glass twisted into impossible shapes, glowing faintly in the dim light of the night. The building loomed before them like something from another world.
"Welcome to the Nexus," Dr. Ames said, gesturing for Ameir to step out of the vehicle.
Ameir's breath caught in his throat as he stepped out and took in the enormity of the structure. It was more than just a building—it was a monument, something beyond the limits of his understanding. The very air around it seemed charged, humming with energy, and the faint thrum of machinery echoed in the background, as if the building itself were alive.
Inside, the Nexus was even more overwhelming. The walls were lined with holographic displays, each one showcasing a different scene—some of bustling, vibrant cities, others of barren, desolate wastelands. Ameir felt a strange unease as he gazed at the shifting images, each one more surreal than the last. A central platform dominated the room, glowing with a faint blue light, and as they approached, the platform illuminated further, casting strange shadows on the walls.
Without warning, a holographic figure appeared above the platform. It was a woman, her features sharp and precise, her voice powerful enough to vibrate through Ameir's chest as she spoke.
"Competitor confirmed: Ameir Musa. Origin: Africa. Classification: Inventor."
Ameir's heart skipped a beat. Competitor confirmed—the words echoed in his mind as he stepped forward at Dr. Ames's instruction.
"Prepare for synchronization," the hologram announced, its voice almost mechanical.
Before Ameir could process what was happening, a surge of energy shot through his body, sending his vision spiraling into a kaleidoscope of light and sound. The world around him seemed to bend, warping and shifting as though it were unraveling.
When the sensation subsided, Ameir blinked, disoriented, and found himself standing in a vast, cavernous hall. The room was lined with glowing platforms, each occupied by another figure. He hadn't noticed them before—other competitors, standing silently in their own pools of light.
This was it. The Trials of the Continent.
Ameir's heart raced as the voice of Dr. Ames reverberated through the hall:
"Welcome to the Trials of the Continent. Your destiny awaits."