Chương 62: Preparation

Lloyd stood surrounded by the remaining Players. From their glances alone it was clear: they too didn't understand why some of the eliminated hadn't actually been eliminated after all. The white void around them was gradually losing its former sterile emptiness — now it was tinged with the smell of smoke, sweat, and something else, something metallic, like blood, hanging faintly in the air, a lingering reminder of what had just taken place.

The Swordsman, as though reading everyone's thoughts at once, calmly settled back onto his chair and swept the crowd of Players with a heavy, commanding gaze that sent a wave of nervous silence rippling through the rows. Even those who'd been chattering loudly a moment ago immediately bit their tongues, afraid of drawing attention back to themselves. — Well then. I suppose some adjustments are in order.

He began pointing at several Players lying on the ground, breathing heavily, struggling to catch their breath — among them the lean guy with the massive scythe, still gripping its handle with knuckles white from strain, and the Fire Man, whose body continued to burn with a weak, subdued flame — timid little tongues of fire barely flickering across his skin, dying down and flaring back up again and again, as if he barely had the strength left to sustain even this pitiful remnant of his earlier raging blaze.

The charred edges of his clothing still smoldered with tiny sparks, fading out one by one, and a thin, barely visible wisp of smoke rose from his body. — These Players fought desperately for their own interests, and for the right to stay here. So you move on to the next stage. The news left Lloyd a little disheartened.

He couldn't help but grimace, watching the Fire Man struggle to prop himself up on one elbow, coughing and spitting out something dark, the faint flame on his shoulders trembling with every ragged breath, as though trying to flare back to life along with him.

"So he made it after all. Shame. I was really hoping he'd fail." But most of the Players welcomed the news with genuine joy. Some began talking loudly among themselves, others rushed to help their fallen comrades up, supporting them by the arms as they wobbled to their feet, while others celebrated for their fellow Players as if it had been their own personal victory, clapping the barely-standing fighters on the back.

It seemed the shared ordeal had bonded them more than any friendly introduction ever could — the white void filled with the hum of voices, sounding for the first time not frightened, but almost warm, almost human. Someone even laughed — a nervous, broken laugh, but genuine in its relief — and that laughter echoed strangely across the boundless white expanse, bouncing off the invisible boundaries of the hall.

A few seconds into this commotion, the sharp crack of a sword striking the invisible floor rang out across the white hall. The sound was so sudden and loud that several people flinched, as though doused in ice water. In that same instant, everyone fell silent at once, as though someone had flipped a switch — laughter cut off mid-breath, conversations froze somewhere in people's throats. — Let's move on to the next stage.

Everyone tensed immediately, shoulders stiffening, eyes snapping back to the figure seated on the wooden chair. The Swordsman, for his part, crossed one leg over the other and continued speaking calmly, as if he hadn't noticed the tension hanging in the air, as if it hadn't been him who'd just silenced a hundred people with a single strike of his sword. Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings. — But before that, I should explain the rules.

Some Players tensed even further, straightening up, trying to look as composed as possible, while others simply collapsed to the ground, drained by the fight they'd just endured — or, to put it more accurately, the beating they'd just endured — no longer able to hold themselves upright. Lloyd noticed one Player nearby quietly wiping sweaty palms on his pants, while another nervously picked at the edge of his sleeve, unable to still the trembling in his fingers.

— The second stage will be the hardest of them all, and the longest. You'll be sent to one of the locations of the New World. You'll need to survive there for three days and three nights.

The crowd immediately erupted into an outraged murmur, buzzing with heated discussion — voices overlapping, blending into a single anxious chorus that echoed across the white void again and again, as though dozens of identical phrases were being shouted from every direction at once, washing over Lloyd in waves that left his ears faintly ringing. — The New World? Are they serious? — They won't even tell us what kind of terrain it is? — Survive there for three days?

— The examiners this year have completely lost their minds! Lloyd only half-listened to the noise, feeling an unpleasant chill settle somewhere deep inside him. Three days in an unknown location — that sounded nothing like the harmless prelude the first stage had been, brutal as it had already seemed.

He glanced over at the Fire Man, who still sat on the ground, wrapped in his weak, barely smoldering flame, and from the look on his face it was clear that even he — clearly far more experienced than most people here — was genuinely unsettled by what he'd just heard.

"Three days... So this isn't just going to be a show of strength anymore. This is going to be real survival." But then the sword struck the floor again — louder this time, sharper, like a warning, echoing beneath the invisible ceiling. The Swordsman swept the crowd with a heavy gaze, slowly scanning from one end to the other, and once it had fallen completely silent, everyone shrinking into themselves, he continued without raising his voice — and that calm, even tone somehow made things feel even more unsettling.

— Well, I can see you're all thrilled. Before you're sent there, you'd better listen closely. This information is worth its weight in gold, and I won't be repeating myself. The Swordsman cleared his throat — the sound came out unexpectedly loud in the ringing silence that had settled over the hall, carrying across the entire white expanse as though there wasn't a single obstacle to stop it.

He settled more comfortably into his chair, resting a hand on the hilt of his sword, still sheathed in its blue scabbard — the gesture looked almost domestic, as if he were about to tell a long story by a fireside rather than lay out the rules of a deadly trial. Somewhere behind Lloyd, the Fire Man's quiet, ragged cough sounded again, followed by the faint hiss of a dying flame. — I suppose we should start with the monsters you'll encounter there. As usual, these will be Shadow-rank and Phantom-rank monsters.

But... The Players couldn't help leaning in closer, craning their necks, trying not to miss a single word — even those who'd been demonstratively crossing their arms just a moment ago now stood holding their breath, completely absorbed in the Swordsman's words.

The white void around them seemed to contract, pulling in tighter around this single point of focus, and for a moment Lloyd could have sworn even the air itself was holding its breath, the faint flame on the Fire Man's body behind him flaring up just a little brighter, as if he too were listening closely to the Swordsman's words. — This year, some adjustments have been made to the Exam. So, in addition to the usual monsters, you may also encounter a Nightmare.