Chương 91: Administrator Ara

The elaborately dressed Man swept his gaze across the clearing once more, fanning himself absently, studying the charred trees, the scattered bodies, the frozen mounds of ice slowly beginning to melt under the dim light of the false sun. His eyes lingered on every detail a bit longer than necessary, as though assessing the scale of destruction with almost professional interest. He settled his gaze back on Lloyd.

He looked him over with a serious, appraising stare and let out a heavy sigh, as though facing some particularly tiresome problem requiring an immediate but unpleasant solution. — My, what a mess you've all made. He waved his fan — smoothly, almost lazily — and in that same instant the entire location began to shift once more.

Everything around them rapidly lost its color, the forest crumbling, dissolving, like a watercolor painting left out in the pouring rain, the tree trunks stretching and thinning into blurred, translucent silhouettes, the ground beneath their feet softening, sinking, as though losing all solidity. Lloyd, in turn, simply closed his eyes, unable even to rise, feeling reality swim and warp around him, his stomach twisting with that dizzying, nauseating sensation of falling without actually falling.

But suddenly all his pain vanished at once — not a single wound throbbed with agony anymore, not a single cut stung his skin, not a single bone ached with that dull, exhausting pain. He slowly opened his eyes.

"This can't be..." Not a single wound remained on his body, not a single scratch, not even a hint that anything had happened to him at all over these past three days — no burn from his collision with the Creature, no mark from the black hand that had sent him flying. His skin was clean, smooth, as though brand new.

The only thing that remained with him was exhaustion, deep, sunk into his very bones, settling heavily into every muscle, and that, unfortunately, hadn't gone anywhere, continuing to remind him of everything he'd endured far more eloquently than any scar ever could, far more eloquently than memory itself.

He looked around, feeling that familiar sensation return to him, as though he'd found himself right back at the very start of this nightmare, as though the past three days had been nothing more than a brief, unsettling dream. Around him stretched the achingly familiar white void, and Players just as bewildered as he was, glancing around in confusion, feeling at their own bodies as though not quite believing the wounds had truly vanished.

Some ran their hands over spots where deep cuts had gaped just moments ago; others stared in disbelief at their whole, unharmed arms. The number of Players had dropped several times over compared to the start — where a dense, noisy crowd had once stood, there now yawned empty, unsettling gaps in the rows, reminders of those who hadn't made it through these three days.

And not a single face retained even a trace of the earlier excitement or bravado, that brash confidence of the first day — only exhaustion, anxiety, and poorly hidden, animal fear frozen in every set of eyes. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

Lloyd sighed and pulled himself to his feet — his wounds might have vanished, but the exhaustion certainly hadn't, and even that simple movement cost him noticeable effort, his knees trembling slightly, his vision darkening for a moment from the sudden change in position, making him sway for a second.

The Players around him began murmuring, animatedly discussing what they'd been through, sharing fragmented stories full of horror and disbelief with one another — someone talked about encountering a fire knight, someone else about creatures of ice, someone simply trembled, unable to form a single word, staring blankly at one fixed point.

The buzz of voices grew, spreading across the white void in a tangled, overlapping echo, but then a sharp clap rang out across the entire space, cutting through all the noise with a single sound. Everyone turned toward the sound at once, conversations cutting off mid-sentence, as though someone had flipped a switch and muted the whole crowd.

There, seeming to float in midair, stood the elaborately dressed man Lloyd recognized — he fanned himself lazily, sweeping the Players with an attentive, faintly bored gaze, as though the entire scene had long since grown tiresome to him, as though he'd witnessed something like this thousands of times before. — I understand you have a lot of questions, but the Exam isn't over yet.

Suddenly he seemed to catch himself, pressing his fingers to his lips in an exaggerated gesture of forgetfulness, as though he'd forgotten to mention something important. — Ah, right, I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Ara, the Administrator.

From the expressions on many of the Players' faces — the way some of them instinctively stepped back, the way others hunched their shoulders, and how a few even dropped to their knees in a reverent, frightened bow — Lloyd understood that they were standing before someone truly important, truly powerful, far more significant even than the Swordsman or the icy Casper.

Then again, he'd already witnessed this man's power with his own eyes — the ease with which he'd made tons of water vanish with a single snap of his fingers — and that memory alone was enough to leave no room for doubt in his words. — We've had some technical difficulties... Lloyd clenched his teeth, remembering the Creature, remembering its mad, ear-to-ear grin, feeling a familiar, unpleasant chill crawl across his skin, a sickening lump rising in his throat.

— But everyone who suffered because of them, or failed the Exam as a result, will be given a chance to move forward. A quiet, surprised murmur rippled through the crowd of Players — some let out sighs of relief, others frowned instead, as though not quite believing such generosity, while others exchanged wary glances with their neighbors, searching for confirmation of what they'd just heard. Lloyd immediately began scanning the crowd, hurriedly searching for familiar faces among this sea of strangers.

He spotted Lorian, who, to put it mildly, looked absolutely wrecked — standing pale, his glassy gaze fixed on some point in empty space, as though he still hadn't fully recovered from what had happened, his arms hanging limp at his sides. He saw Brand, who didn't look particularly cheerful either, if he'd ever really looked that way to begin with, the flame on his shoulders burning unusually dim, muted, as though his strength barely flickered somewhere deep within him.

And then he spotted someone else, whose figure made Lloyd's heart clench with a mixture of relief and unease...

"Casper."