Chương 55: Scarred Swordsman

— I hereby announce the start of the exam! The moment those words were spoken, the hall began to change chaotically. Everything around them started disappearing and reappearing. The white walls of the hall flickered, dissolved, and gave way to fragments of something entirely different, while Lloyd was tossed from one place to another as though he were nothing more than a splinter caught in a raging current.

The sensation was so strange, so utterly unnatural, that it felt like a dream—the kind where you realize you're dreaming but simply can't wake up. The space around him twisted as if some invisible hand were crumpling reality itself like a sheet of paper. Flashes of color streaked across his vision—a crimson burst, an icy blue glow, then absolute, suffocating darkness—and everything changed so quickly that his mind couldn't piece together anything coherent.

The endless chaos made Lloyd's head spin, and he squeezed his eyes shut to keep himself from throwing up. A sickening wave of nausea rose into his throat, yet even behind his closed eyelids, vivid afterimages continued to dance as though they had been burned directly into his retinas. For several more seconds, he continued to be transported somewhere, feeling and hearing the world around him transform into something entirely different.

One moment there was a roar like violent wind, the next a faint metallic chime, as though an invisible string had snapped, followed by a distant muffled rumble resembling thunder beneath the sea. His skin was scorched by unbearable heat, only to be pierced by freezing cold a heartbeat later, as though his body were being dragged through dozens of different worlds without being allowed to remain in any of them. Then, at last, silence.

Complete, absolute, ringing silence that made his ears ache, leaving only the heavy echo of his own wildly pounding heart inside his chest. Lloyd slowly opened his eyes. Before him stretched nothing but endless white emptiness. There were no boundaries, no landmarks, not a single point for his eyes to focus on. The space extended endlessly in every direction without even the faintest hint of a horizon. There were no shadows, no blemishes, nothing his mind could cling to.

The light wasn't blinding, yet it offered no relief either. It existed everywhere and nowhere at once—steady, featureless, and without a visible source. The emptiness filled Lloyd with a strange, unsettling feeling, as though he were suspended somewhere on the very edge between reality and oblivion, in a place that simply shouldn't exist. He looked down.

"What the hell is going on here?" There was nothing beneath him either. No floor. No ground. Yet somehow he remained standing firmly, as though ordinary concrete lay beneath his feet. Lloyd lightly tapped the toe of his red sneaker against the invisible surface, and the sound echoed through the white void—the only real, tangible sound in this kingdom of nothingness. He crouched down and reached toward the floor.

Beneath his fingertips, he felt a smooth, slightly cool surface that was completely invisible to the eye. The contradiction sent another chill running down his spine. The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. Behind him, he heard voices. Dozens of them merged into an indistinct murmur filled with fear, confusion, and hushed exclamations. He slowly turned around. Behind him stood an entire row of Players, with Lloyd at the very front.

Nearby were several more identical rows stretching into the endless white distance, disappearing from sight long before their ends could be seen. Earlier, there had been no more than twenty Players. Now there were at least a hundred. A hundred Players, all wearing the same bewildered expressions as Lloyd. Some stared around in shock. Others patted themselves down as if making sure every part of their body was still there.

Some stood frozen as though struck by lightning, while one young man nearby had collapsed to his knees, covering his mouth with one hand as he struggled against a surge of nausea. But what concerned Lloyd most wasn't that he had been transported somewhere else. Nor was it that the number of Players had suddenly multiplied. Something else bothered him entirely. His brows knitted together as the corners of his lips drooped in obvious disappointment.

"Why am I standing at the very front of my row...?" Before he had time to dwell on it, a hoarse male voice echoed from ahead. — Before we begin, I ask that you remain in your assigned positions. Maintain proper discipline. Lloyd looked toward the speaker. The man sat on an ordinary wooden chair—the only object in the entire white void—with one leg crossed over the other as though he were relaxing in the most comfortable armchair in the world.

The chair itself looked strangely out of place amid the endless whiteness, as if someone had simply taken it from an ordinary room and placed it here without explanation. He wore dark blue pants and a padded jacket stretched tightly across his broad shoulders. Beneath it was a white shirt that clung to every muscle—and judging by its fit, there were plenty of them. On the right sleeve of his jacket was a crest that unmistakably identified him as a member of the MAI.

His dark blue hair was tied into a long ponytail that reached his shoulders. His entire face was covered in scars—old ones that had long since turned pale, along with several newer pinkish scars crossing his eyebrow and cheekbone. They made it painfully clear that this man had claimed many victories in his life, and none of them had come easily. Lloyd could hardly imagine how many more scars were hidden beneath that white shirt if this many were visible on his face alone.

Lloyd slowly raised his gaze to the man's eyes. They were the eyes of a predator—sharp, appraising, lazily sweeping across the gathered Players as though counting prey before the hunt. Lloyd had no doubt whatsoever that if there were only two roles in this scene—predator and prey—he would unquestionably be the latter. The realization sent goosebumps crawling across his skin once more.

Leaning against the chair was a sword sheathed in a blue scabbard adorned with a faint pattern that shimmered even beneath the uniform, colorless light. Lloyd knew nothing about artifacts or relics, yet he was completely certain of one thing. That sword was no ordinary weapon. Its very presence felt extraordinary, as though the air surrounding the scabbard were slightly denser than everywhere else, as though space itself bent ever so slightly beneath the weight of whatever rested inside.

The scarred swordsman slowly rose from the wooden chair. Even that simple movement carried such calm, overwhelming strength that several Players in the front rows instinctively took a step back. — I won't keep you here for long. He took a step toward the assembled Players, and the white emptiness beneath his feet answered with a dull, barely audible sound, as though reality itself had shuddered from the impact. — The first stage of the exam has begun.