Chương 96: A Reason to Become a Player

Hector clearly waited for an answer, tilting his head slightly to the side, his thick beard swaying faintly as if from a light gust of wind that wasn't actually there — the air over the meadow remained still, frozen, as though the strange place itself were holding its breath. The false sky above glowed with an even, almost lifeless light, devoid of any familiar shift between day and night, and because of this Lloyd couldn't tell how long they had already been sitting here — an hour, two, maybe longer.

He shifted in place, feeling the soft, dew-damp grass beneath him, and finally began to talk. Reluctantly at first, in short, clipped sentences, but gradually, word by word, he opened up — recalling his home village, the narrow dusty streets, the neighbor's dog that was forever chasing chickens, the old mill on the outskirts where he and the local boys used to hold their simple little contests. Small things, insignificant facts of life that he himself hardly considered worth mentioning.

But Hector listened as though every word were a genuine treasure. His eyes, tiny against the backdrop of that massive, wrinkle-carved face, gleamed with interest, and every so often he burst into his characteristic booming laugh, which made the nearby flowers shiver and shook loose fine golden pollen from the broad palm leaves. Emboldened by this genuine interest, Lloyd talked even more freely, waving his hands, forgetting all his earlier stiffness.

"Maybe he really isn't as mad as he seems at first glance," Lloyd thought fleetingly, watching how sincerely and attentively this giant old man listened to him.

He grew so absorbed in this unexpectedly warm conversation that for a while he completely forgot where he was and why — forgot about the strange meadow with its false sky, about the glowing insects flickering between the flowers like bright sparks, about the fact that he was sitting on grass that shouldn't even exist, forgot even that he was in the final stage of the Exam, on whose outcome his entire future life depended.

But then Hector abruptly cut him off mid-sentence, setting his glass aside with a dull, barely audible thud against the damp earth, and asked a question — so sudden and sharp that Lloyd flinched, as if doused with ice water, the words catching somewhere in his throat. — Why did you decide to become a Player? The meadow seemed to grow quieter. Even the insects seemed to stop flickering between the petals for a moment.

The question was deceptively simple, but finding an answer to it turned out to be far harder than Lloyd expected. He opened his mouth, closed it, then finally said the first thing that came to mind. — Why did I decide to become a Player? The System chose me, that's all there is to it.

He scratched the back of his neck, trying to keep his voice sounding carefree, but Hector's gaze had already changed — grown heavier, more searching, as if the old man weren't looking at the person in front of him at all, but at something hidden deeper, beneath skin and bone. Hector shook his head, slowly, almost sympathetically, his massive shoulders sagging just slightly. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. — Nonsense.

It's not the System that chooses you — you choose. Yes, hiding your level is against the law, but believe me, boy, nobody would have done a thing to you if you hadn't come to the Exam. After all, you're only level one. Nobody goes hunting through back alleys for someone like you. You could have lived an entirely different life — a quiet, unremarkable one, where no one would have ever asked you anything like this.

Hector's expression shifted even further, as though all the warm, drunken ease had suddenly drained from the old man's face, replaced by a cold, almost unsettling seriousness. Even the light of the false sky above them seemed, to Lloyd, to dim by a shade or two — though perhaps that was only his imagination running wild with nerves. — So, let's go back to the beginning. Why did you truly decide to become a Player? Lloyd swallowed.

The glass in front of him remained half full, the dark liquid rippling in tiny waves each time he absently turned it between his fingers. He couldn't think of anything better than to tell the plain truth — the one he himself believed, or at least the one he wanted to believe. — Money. In my opinion, it's the best way to earn a living. High-level Players get paid a great deal. And clearing dungeons can bring in a solid profit — trophies, guild rewards, all of that. Hold out a couple of years, climb the ranks, and...

His eyes lit up. For a moment he forgot about Hector, about the meadow, about the strange false sky overhead — he sank into his own daydreams, running through everything he'd buy once he got rich: a new house for his father, so the man could finally stop breaking his back from dawn to dusk, a beautiful dress and warm shoes for his sister, so no one in his family would ever have to freeze again during that miserable season.

"That's when everything will change," raced through his mind.

"That's when I'll finally be able to do something for them." To Lloyd's surprise, Hector let out only a short, barely noticeable chuckle — nothing like the booming laugh he'd generously offered throughout their entire conversation. The old man slowly set his glass even farther aside in the grass, as if the question demanded complete sobriety, even if only feigned, his massive fingers interlacing in a small gesture Lloyd hadn't noticed in him before. — Well, that really is a fairly popular goal among Players.

Perhaps the most popular one. But... Lloyd crossed his arms over his chest and tilted his head slightly, waiting for him to continue. Somewhere among the flowers another glowing insect drifted past, leaving behind a brief, quickly fading trail, like a tiny falling star. — That reason is far from the main one in your life. There's something else, something that plays a far bigger role. That is the true reason you actually wanted to become a Player. Lloyd's brow twitched.

Something tightened inside him — an unpleasant, pulling sensation, as if the old man had somehow looked straight into the place Lloyd himself avoided looking. — That really is my goal. Money. I don't have any other goals. I just want to earn more — for myself, and for my family. Hector shook his head, slowly, almost with regret, as though he'd already known he'd hear exactly that, and yet had still hoped, every time, for a different answer. — Lloyd. If you won't be honest with me, you'll fail the Exam.