Diamond League. It can’t be this bad, right? I did four out of five and survived all of them, no way Diamond League will be different. They’re all the same anyway. The only difference here is that they are older adults, some of them around thirty years of age. Once they pass their exams, they can go as knights, guards, or great roles of prestige. Which means the ones that are here either just entered the league, didn’t pass the exam, or will pass it soon. 

The first thing Isabel noticed when she stepped into the Diamond League was that it was quite prestigious. She had never been there before, but it was obviously a prominent place. The walls were thicker, protecting more area. Visibly, the camp had the idea that they had to protect their best fighters, to assure the safety of everyone by keeping those alive. She felt her blood boil. Were people in Bronze League this inferior for Lazarus’ men not to assure their safety? They were citadians too, everyone deserved to leave. She thought that it was a part of the values of the camp. 

When the girl arrived, she cleared her throat, thinking it would be like the four other leagues. Yet nobody looked at her, except a few glances. People slowly shifted to her, completely indifferent to her being there. Like they didn’t care. No interest was visible in their eyes. The teen glanced around, searching for a coach, yet nobody stepped over to present her to the group. 

“Isabel Fletcher, huh? The prestigious fighter from the Golden League?” A man called out, his voice hoarse and unpleasant, before he snickered and shook his head. “So prestigious they forced her to go in the higher ranks to embarrass herself, huh?” 

Everyone laughed around, agreeing with that boy. They had sheepish smiles on their faces, as if they thought they were so smart and that she was a fool for daring to dare standing in front of them. Isabel saw herself standing in the middle of a jungle, those “legends” sneering like hyenas, ready to break her. 

Yet she didn’t feel bad or sad; she could feel her blood boiling, her jaw tightening. How dare they treat her that way? How could the higher league be acting that immaturely? She knew she wasn’t this important for the whole deal of the camp, yet they didn’t have to treat her this way! 

“Stop it, you all. I didn’t beg him to take me, he just recognized that I had talent. I wasn’t forced either, it was my choice, since unlike you, I like to help people.” Isabel snarled, her cheeks heating up with anger. 

More laughs. They were even louder now, mocking her. The girl didn’t know why she was all red and flustered, but it was certainly anger. She felt like she would snap at any moment. She didn’t get what was this funny in what she was saying. Calm down, Isabel. Those guys are jerks and do not know what they’re talking about. No wonder why Lazarus thought that there was a problem. 

Right after the thought of that, the girl felt a bit better. She figured out an important detail. Her anger faded away, leaving place to calmness and a straight face. The trainees didn’t stop laughing, but she wasn’t madder than before. She kept a relaxed expression, ideas flowing in her head. 

“You like to help people? Come on, you sound like a child. How old are you, small girl? Oh, right, your name is Isabel. Whatever, we’ll call you small girl.” 

“Sixteen. But that’s not the matter.” The “small girl” affirmed, raising her brows as she clicked her tongue in disapproval. “I thought the Diamant League would be more mature than this, you’re supposed to be the best and to show an example to the lower leagues.” 

The group snickered again; this time way less loud than last time. Some of them stared at her with surprise, puzzled to see her act this calmly out of nowhere, with confidence. A woman stepped over to her, arching her brows, her hands on her hips as she dropped her hands on her waist, glaring at the younger folk with disgust. 

“Then I’m supposed to be an example? I am. Now, small girl, tell us what’s the problem if you’re so smart and if you visualize things that good. Don’t hesitate, don’t even dare. Just tell us what’s wrong and back the fuck away from us.” 

“I see the problem in you. And everyone else around this place. Every single one of you has it.” 

“Spill the tea,” the same boy then earlier commanded, “Stop trying to act this smart when you can barely tell us what the problem is. I bet you’ll tell us we don’t have an issue at all. Just go on, you’re so slow we might as well wait a hundred more years.” 

“You’re the problem.” Isabel snarled, her eyes holding thunderstorms as she glared at him. “That pride, the way you act. You don’t even have a coach. I suppose you guys were too prideful and annoying for him and made him leave. You guys are really something, something too much. Alright, let’s pretend you guys are good fighters. I’m saying pretend but it doesn’t mean I do not believe it. Okay, so if you guys fight well, then keep on training. It’s boring, you might say, if you already have talent? You’re not completely wrong. But if you’re too busy mocking each other and not focusing on the task, your skills will decrease.” 

They all stood silent for a moment, taking in her words. They didn’t seem to agree, but they didn’t seem to believe that she was inappropriate either. After a while, their ferocious expressions were back, and they were smirking like crazy. Isabel didn’t understand why they reacted like that and was caught off guard, yet she didn’t let it show. 

“Haha, very funny. How are my skills decrease if I had them since I was a child, huh? Tell me. You’re just inventing something right now because you know you’re wrong.” 

“I’m serious.” The oldest vociferated, keeping her cool, “If you take the habit not to fight for a few weeks, you will not remember the few tricks you have learned throughout your whole training. You’ll be lazier than before and it’s not helping the camp, you guys are supposed to be an example! I’m not surprised you guys are this much in here still, you haven’t passed the test.” 

Instead of mocking faces, the trainees’ expressions darkened, growling in anger. No, not anger. They looked like they were about to snap and kill her, to tore her apart. That time, the teen couldn’t stop it. She swallowed, watching them step closer to her, their faces red with anger, their veins showing. 

“B-Brainns....H-human flesh...” An unfamiliar voice said out of nowhere, a few miles away. 

Isabel’s heart throbbed and her breath caught in her throat. Not zombies again. I thought that they were leaving us alone now. Immediately, the higher league pulled away from her, gripping their weapons. Not in an assured manner, though. Lazily, groggily, as if they were tired of this. 

Quickly, the situation started becoming worse. More zombies barged into the camp, attacking the training area and the dorms, as some trainees started fighting them off. Trees fell, and it began to be dangerous. This time, there were more monsters than before. They were prepared. Isabe l ran away, searching for her sister, her empty bow banging against her back. Yet she didn’t care. 

She ran, ran, and ran, until she found the principal stuck under a tree. Isabel’s eyes widened, and she paused. He was the boss of all this and took care of her, she couldn’t let him down. And so, the girl started pulling off the tree, groaning with the effort. It was useless. He was stuck there. 

The man looked up, grinning slyly as he watched her, recognizing her intently. He tried to speak, but his words were incoherent, and so he cleared his throat, his voice low and hoarse. 

“Save them, Isabel. The danger was awaiting us...From the start. I felt it, yet I knew this was going to happen. You’re  our savior, save us. Go, save your friends!” 

“B-But M. Jalikee, I still want to help you too! You gave me a safe place to live and without you I’d probably be dead...” She implied, shaking her head vigorously, slowly taking the reality of the situation. 

“You were meant to be here and be our savior. That’s your fate.” The man choke, crushing under the weight of the tree as his eyes fluttered close. For a moment, Isabel thought he died, but then he opened his eyes again. “Save us, do this for me.” 

Isabel watched him fade away from the world, the zombies walking towards her slowly. Then, she didn’t dare to hesitate.  Saving everyone was Lazarus’ last wish. And she had to owe him this. And so, the girl didn’t stop running through the camp, trying to find a way to survive through all of this. She didn’t understand why everyone told her she was a savior and that this was planned, but she didn’t care. 

If she was planned to be here, was her death planned?