My body still screamed.
Every breath felt like it scraped something raw inside my chest, every movement sending pain rippling through muscles that hadn't finished healing. I heard the moderator's voice as if through water, distant but unavoidable.
"Candidates," it said, calm and precise, "you have all been selected as players. You will now be teleported to the Mainlands."
Someone shouted.
"After everything we endured, it's not over? Bring us back!"
The words cracked something fragile in the room. One voice became two, then several. Complaints overlapped-anger, fear, desperation. People stepped forward, emboldened by shared outrage.
One man pushed through the crowd and grabbed the moderator's robe.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then he exploded.
There was no warning. No buildup. His body ruptured in a wet, violent burst. Blood splattered the floor, sprayed across nearby candidates, soaked their shoes and clothes. Someone screamed. Someone retched.
Red stained the moderator's face.
It didn't react.
Its smile didn't change.
"Moderators are required to contain escalations," it said evenly, as if explaining a rule. "So that the rest may continue."
I could barely process it. Pain drowned out shock, and shock drowned out thought.
The world folded.
Air rushed into my lungs.
Wind. Open sky.
We stood outside now, in a vast expanse beneath an endless blue. Before us rose a massive mansion, old and imposing, built in an elegant 1800s style - tall windows, white stone, ornate balconies. It looked like something stolen from another world entirely.
"The Mainlands," the moderator announced. "Each candidate has been assigned a room. You will remain here until the next event is announced by the higher-ups."
People moved cautiously, eyes darting, voices low. No one celebrated.
Inside, the mansion was obscene in its luxury. Marble floors. High ceilings. Chandeliers that caught the light like frozen fire. I climbed the stairs to the second floor and found my room.
It felt like a royal chamber.
A massive bed. Velvet curtains. Polished wood. Too much space for one person. Too much silence.
As I entered, I caught others glancing at me. Side-eyes. Whispered looks. The same thing I'd known my whole life. Different place, same instinct.
It stung. I won't deny that.
But I didn't break.
I closed the door and locked it, then collapsed onto the bed. The mattress swallowed me whole. My body screamed its exhaustion into the fabric.
My thoughts drifted, uninvited.
My family.
My sister.
We were never that close. We lived side by side more than together. Still… I wanted to tell her I was proud of her. I hoped her first day had gone well. I hoped she was safe.
I stared at the ceiling until sleep took me.
Evening came quietly.
Hunger dragged me out of my room. I went downstairs, careful, alert. In the kitchen, a group had already taken control, cooking together like this was normal. The fierce girl from before stood among them, moving confidently, supporting her group as the perfect leader.
Others talked in the main hall. Laughter drifted from somewhere deeper in the mansion. I explored briefly - wide corridors, a ballroom large enough to swallow dozens of people. A place meant for crowds.
Not for me.
From my room earlier, I'd seen a giant portal outside. I headed there now. People emerged from it carrying supplies - food, materials, resources. That was how they sustained this place.
I waited until it stood empty.
Then I stepped through alone.
I touched the crown at my head without thinking. Golem Legacy. I wasn't fond of it. I wanted something flashier. Something that let me end fights quickly. Something that meant I wouldn't have to endure anymore.
But regret didn't matter.
This was what I had.
The world shifted.
I stood in a vast forest, wild and unrestrained. Trees twisted upward in chaotic patterns, sunlight filtering through thick canopies. The air felt alive, untouched.
For the first time since everything began, my chest loosened.
No eyes on me.
No judgment.
No expectations.
I wandered without direction, letting my thoughts drift. I remembered the white room. The relics others carried - different, powerful, rare. Not everyone had one. It became clear: the boss dropped a single relic, and the group decided who took it.
The influential.
The loud.
The admired.
The fierce girl had claimed hers - a black longsword with gothic engravings, dark and imposing. Something dangerous. Something I needed to be wary of.
I didn't like her.
She acted as if I owed gratitude for help I never asked for.
That kind of unconditional kindness of the other girl made my skin crawl.
It dragged a memory out of me.
Back in school, there had been someone I called a friend. The only one who spoke to me regularly. I admired him. Endured his scolding. Believed him.
Then I learned the truth.
He'd only gotten close to me to reach my sister.
Every word had been a lie.
I tried to expose him. Tried to tell people what he really was. They all sided with him - not because they knew he was right, but because it was easier to believe him than me.
They shouted. Accused. Mocked.
Fine, I thought as I walked away, holding my face steady through the humiliation. Remain slaves.
A violent explosion snapped me back to the present.
The ground trembled. Dust billowed into the air somewhere nearby.
Something had happened.
I moved carefully, keeping low, using trees and terrain for cover. I didn't rush. I didn't act stupid. When I reached the source, there was nothing - just disturbed earth and settling dust.
Then a voice spoke from behind me.
"What are you doing?"
I felt it instantly.
Someone was there.
I didn't turn.