Chương 52: World Players Association

WPA was formed a few years after the catastrophe, more than a hundred years ago. And after some time, it became one of the world powers — those very powers that stand at the top of the world. They were the ones who had everything: money, power, influence. They were the ones who ran the world, pulling invisible strings from behind the scenes. WPA had been formed by ordinary people who had once fallen victim to the catastrophe and become Players.

Considering only the human world, WPA would undoubtedly be the most influential power of all that existed. WPA had become the world government in this new, changed world. The frosty air on the square in front of the building felt especially dense, as if saturated with anticipation of something important.

Lloyd stood there, shifting his weight from foot to foot, trying to steady an inner trembling — whether from the cold or from nerves, he couldn't tell — his breath rising in short puffs of vapor that dissolved instantly into the frigid air. Somewhere behind him, in the distance, a tram rumbled past again, but right now that familiar city noise felt distant to Lloyd, almost unreal, as if it were drifting in from an entirely different world.

The sun, just as cold and blinding as before, reflected off the building's glass doors, throwing sharp, trembling glints across the cobblestones, and a thin icicle broke loose from a neighboring rooftop, shattering somewhere around the corner with a ringing crash that made Lloyd flinch involuntarily.

Passersby hurried past all around, paying no attention whatsoever to the building or the motionless guards at the entrance — for them it was just an ordinary part of the cityscape they walked by dozens of times a week without ever lifting their heads. Only Lloyd stood there as if seeing the place for the very first time, taking in every detail with an almost childlike curiosity mixed with mounting unease.

Since Lloyd had only lived in the new world for a year, he wasn't especially well-versed in WPA itself, nor in the fact that dungeons had several internal passages leading to different parts of that other world — and that it was through one of these very passages, hidden deep within a dungeon on the far side of the boundary between worlds, that the reanimated corpse he'd had to face at the very start of his journey had come through.

Exactly how it had managed to be both alive and dead at the same time, though, was an entirely different question. But right now Lloyd had far more pressing concerns... He stood facing the WPA officers, his gaze catching involuntarily on the emblem on their caps, gleaming with a metallic sheen even in the dim winter light.

His eyes lingered longest on the silver sword piercing the globe — a sharp, almost predatory line that caught the sunlight with every movement of the guard's head, flashing briefly in a blinding glint. The emblem of the World Players Association was a flawlessly symmetrical design, in which every element carried its own meaning. At the center sat a dark blue globe, covered in silvery lines of meridians and parallels.

It symbolized the entire world and served as a reminder that WPA belonged to no single nation — its duty was the protection of all humanity. A long silver sword ran vertically through the globe. Its tip pointed toward the sky, while the hilt disappeared behind the lower part of the emblem. The sword represented strength, resolve, and the Players' readiness to fight any threat, whether monsters, dungeons, or beings from other worlds. On either side of the globe, two large silver wings spread outward.

They symbolized freedom, hope, and protection. Within the Association, it was said that the wings represented WPA's ability to reach any point on the globe, regardless of borders or distance. This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it The entire composition was framed by a massive golden ring, resembling a crown. It represented humanity's unity in the face of catastrophe and the unbreakable bond between all Players.

At the bottom of the emblem sat a dark plaque bearing the golden inscription "WPA." Its austere design underscored the organization's official status and made the emblem instantly recognizable. Despite its wealth of detail, the emblem looked clean and majestic. It was worn on the Association's staff uniforms, IDs, badges, documents, and equipment. For most people, this symbol had become a mark of safety and hope.

For Players, it served as a reminder of the oath to protect humanity, even at the cost of their own lives. Of course, that applied only to those Players who belonged to the Association. Lloyd studied the emblem a moment longer than he probably should have, and one of the officer's gazes sharpened slightly in response, as if he'd noticed the excessive attention paid to the symbol and mentally filed it away.

The frosty air between them felt almost tangible, thick with tension, and a light gust of wind carried in the faint, distant hum of the city — a car horn, a dog barking somewhere far off, the hiss of tires on wet asphalt. The WPA officers stared straight into Lloyd's eyes, piercing him with their gazes, as if waiting for something. Their faces remained utterly still, and the coats on their shoulders swayed faintly in the wind, giving both guards the look of dark statues carved from ice.

One of them, standing slightly closer to Lloyd, was noticeably taller, his broad shoulders stretching the dense blue fabric of his uniform, while the other, shorter one stood a bit off to the side, hands clasped behind his back with an almost military bearing.

Feeling a faint chill run down his spine that had nothing to do with the cold, Lloyd finally broke the lingering silence — he reached awkwardly into his hoodie pocket with his good hand, fingers trembling slightly with nerves as he fumbled for his phone among the crumpled receipts and loose change that had accumulated there over the past few weeks. He pulled out his battered phone and showed something on the screen — some kind of code or document, judging by how quickly one of the officers reacted.

In turn, the officer standing closer produced a small rectangular device, gleaming with the same metallic sheen as the emblem on his cap. He pressed the device against Lloyd's phone screen, and a short, mechanical beep rang out in the frosty silence, echoing off the building's stone walls before dissolving somewhere into the emptiness of the winter square.

For a few seconds nothing happened — the officer studied the small display on his device intently, his expression remaining just as impassive, while Lloyd stood frozen, holding his breath, feeling his heart pound somewhere in his throat, thudding dully in his temples. It felt to him as though the entire square had gone still for a moment — no sound of the tram, no voices of passersby, only the cold, biting wind sweeping between the buildings.

Then both guards silently stepped aside, opening a path between them, signaling that Lloyd was cleared to enter, though their piercing gazes never softened, continuing to bore into his back even after he'd turned away and taken his first step toward the doors.

Lloyd simply lowered his eyes, trying not to hold their gaze any longer than necessary, and slowly approached the massive glass doors, behind which he could make out the warm, golden lights of a spacious lobby, starkly contrasting with the cold blue of the winter morning outside. Through the glass, the vague silhouettes of people moving back and forth across the lobby were visible, along with what looked like a large reception desk, lit by soft interior light.

The doors slid open before him with a quiet, almost silent mechanical hum, letting in a brief gust of frigid air that instantly mixed with a wave of warm, slightly dry air from inside the building, smelling of fresh paint and something distantly like coffee.

Lloyd stepped over the threshold, leaving behind the cold winter street with its indifferent sun, its crunching frost, and the two motionless guards, whose gazes seemed to follow him for a long while even after the doors had closed firmly behind him, echoing somewhere at the very edge of his mind.