- The Zirkol Game House welcomes Your Excellency, the Divine Judge of Justice, Anfar
Anfar slowly closed the ancient book he held in his hands, slightly bowing his head as he addressed those present:
- I apologize for the disturbance
One by one, the Supreme Beings hurriedly waved their hands in respect, not daring to even look him directly in the eyes:
- There's no need, Your Excellency!
Standing before them was Anfar himself - one of the Three Great Immortals, a being of such power that he could erase them all, along with the entire Game House, in mere moments. Majestic and formidable, he was unfailingly polite and just, regardless of who stood before him.
Once more bowing respectfully, Anfar dissolved into the air, leaving behind only a ringing silence. The audience was left in awe by his sudden appearance, but quickly returned to their tasks, understanding that his visit lay beyond their interests.
With the first round completed, Gamegod announced the results. The landscapes were distributed randomly, providing each with different opportunities and limitations - a simple game of luck deciding their fates:
Lido was given the forest, where he lost 44% of his contenders.
Gamegod received the plains, open to attacks from all sides, and lost 55% of his thousand.
Tridot ended up in a semi-destroyed village, where he only lost 32%.
Grizzly found himself among castle ruins, enabling him to retain most of his contenders, losing only 25%.
Failee faced steep hills, where her contenders lost 33%.
Pharaoh received gentle slopes, but his contenders couldn't withstand the onslaught - 100% were eliminated.
For a Supreme Being, it was just a number, but the thought of failure sparked within him like a smoldering ember capable of burning everything around him.
His face remained perfectly calm, cold, and unyielding, like a statue carved from stone. Not a single muscle twitched. But within, beneath this outer armor, anger was slowly rising like a fire hidden deep within a volcano. All this time, he silently observed Gamegod, and his gaze held a profound determination.
Finally, with an almost indifferent, even tone, he spoke:
- Lord Gamegod, I request another thousand contenders
- Certainly, - Gamegod replied with a smile, and with a casual wave of his hand, he returned the slopes to their original state, cleansing them of blood and corpses. The space was refreshed, as if nothing had happened. A new selection process began immediately, and Pharaoh was now determined to act just like the other Supreme Beings.
Gamegod leaned towards him and, with a smirk, said:
- I suppose, Pharaoh, you've realized by now that without our intervention, these mortals cannot survive. We must help them in ways that go unnoticed - but understand, any of us will instantly detect blatant assistance if it happens.
He paused, studying Pharaoh's reaction, then continued:
- For example, Lido subtly gave his contenders two powerful single-use artifacts along with a few helpful items. Thanks to this, his contenders lost less than half, even though, considering the forest and the wolves' advantage, he might have suffered far greater losses
- I should have incurred heavy losses on the plains, left unprotected, but they endured. A little help from above, so to speak
- Elder Tridot...
- Enough, Lord Gamegod, - Pharaoh interrupted, raising his hand. His tone was sharp, yet controlled. - I observed everything and kept an eye on everyone. I wanted to see if they could accomplish something on their own, without outside help. But it appears that for them, this is impossible
- Such are mortals - unable to survive without someone's mercy.
Had it not been for the complete defeat of Pharaoh's contenders, Gamegod would have started the second round the very next day, not allowing the players any time to rest. His goal was clear: he wanted them to learn quickly, with no chance to relax, to develop and adapt under constant pressure, using whatever was at hand.
For Gamegod, the growth of strength and endurance in the contenders was key - they weren't merely preparing for battle, but a fight for the Crown of Dominion, which had already begun in the world below. He had no intention of wasting more time on them than necessary, which is why he planned to push them to grow at any cost.
Gamegod decided to give everyone a whole week so that Pharaoh's new contenders could complete the first round and catch up with the others. At the same time, this pause allowed him to prepare something more intricate for the players than mere survival battles.
And, in the end, the stronger they became, the more pleasure this game would bring him, along with the fight for the Crown of Dominion.
Meanwhile, Lido pondered how he might help his countrymen who had fallen into this deadly game. For now, he could only support the surviving contenders from his first team. But once all the contenders descended into the real game below, perhaps he'd have a chance to help everyone. Though he doubted that would be possible.
With each hour, his thoughts grew increasingly troubled, his mind grappling with questions he could not ignore. What was the point of saving them? Why should he be the one striving to save everyone? Who were they to him? Gazing at his hands, he searched for an answer, finding only a vague unease. Duty? Morality? Simple humanity?
And even if all of that mattered, would they help him if he were in their place? Lido doubted it. He knew that mortals harbored far more selfishness than a desire for justice or kindness. In this world, people rarely acted selflessly unless there was some benefit to gain.
After all, morality was merely a matter of perspective.
But still, his conscience demanded clarity. In the end, he made his decision: he would save only those who meant something more to him. Friends, Fenri, and Izabel. Perhaps, if he met someone else he knew - he'd help them too.
However, Lido knew that all this was merely the illusion of omnipotence. He was not a Supreme Being, like the others seated at this table. He was merely a man, accidentally drawn into a foreign game, strange and incomprehensible. He did not know where all this would lead, and perhaps he was willing to help simply because he knew: one day, when he was in trouble himself, maybe someone else would save him too.
Meanwhile, back on Lido's Game Field, the other players began to gather at the Temple. As it turned out, not all contenders had participated in the wolf battle - only a little more than half. Many lacked the courage to immediately accept their new reality.
Many chose to hide: some climbed trees, others took refuge under roots or in other safe spots, hoping they could survive this nightmare that way. Some managed to survive, but they remained at the initial levels, while their comrades, who fought to the end, had already reached levels 30-50.
Those who proved themselves in battle and adapted from the very first moments - team leaders and elite players - leaped to levels 55-65 due to their roles in the battle. Leaders like William, Gizard, and Fenri reached levels 71, 70, and 68, respectively.
Lone players, not tied to any teams, also advanced significantly: their average level was around 63. Among them, Izabel stood out, reaching level 70, same as Gizard.
But the real breakthrough came after completing the Memories: Gizard and many others, having completed this hidden quest, jumped straight to the 100+ level, experiencing a power they had only dreamed of before. Their newfound strength was beyond anything they had previously possessed.
Soon, William decided to undertake the Memory, understanding that without it, he wouldn't have enough strength for the second round.
Sitting before the statue of Bayos, he closed his eyes, and his consciousness plunged into vivid, seemingly relived Memories.
Before him stretched a vast field, and he stood upon it in the simple garb of a farmer, feverishly trying to save his crops from the impending frost. He worked tirelessly but knew his efforts were in vain: the harvest was meager, and his family would starve in the winter.
Each night he prayed to Bayos, pleading for a miracle - for help to save his wife and daughter. And then, at dawn, his prayers were answered: a sacred army passed through their village.
The soldiers' banners fluttered in the brisk wind, shading the barren field, and William immediately understood - this was the answer. He realized that if he joined them, there would be enough provisions for his wife and daughter, saving their lives.
He told his wife of his revelation and, taking a leather vest and old sword, hurried to the Kryzars and Plakhamengs who were recruiting volunteers for the Holy War against the Cruel Supreme Beings in the eastern lands.
Approaching the Kryzar on duty, he said:
- My lord, I wish to join the ranks of the holy army
- My brother, Bayos accepts and forgives all who walk the true path. So be it, - the Kryzar replied.
William took a quill, quickly wrote his name on a worn scroll, and looked over the familiar field. He was a farmer, not a warrior, but for his family, he was willing to do anything. Here, in this war, he could survive, earn, and return home.
When his skills were assessed, William was assigned to a knight's unit. He received a heraldic cloak, worthy armor, a good sword, and a horse. Before departing, he bid farewell to his wife and daughter and, suppressing all doubts, set out for the Holy War.
He felt his consciousness and body gradually merging, his senses immersing in the dense, living reality of the Memory. At that moment, William suddenly felt full control over his body, as if his will had finally awakened.
He understood that now the Memory had truly begun - and before him lay not just the past but a true test.
In the unit, he tried to adapt, but as a farmer-turned-warrior, he was met with scorn. Soon, the time for battle arrived: armies from across the Western region converged against the eastern pagans.
The cacophony of battle echoed in his ears. Trumpets, drums, the cries of the dying, and commands - it was as real as the recent fight with Ankel's wolf pack.
William realized that here, in this memory, he could die, but this time he was a different man. The battles he had fought had changed him: he had become more confident, more resolute.
With each sword strike, with every moment spent on the battlefield, William found himself increasingly immersed in the fight. It was as if he had found inner peace amidst the chaos, gradually discovering a hidden joy in it, a concealed satisfaction. Soon, the battle became part of him, a source of strength and calm.
Before long, everyone - allies and enemies alike - knew him. To his allies, he was known as the Kryzar, the Enforcer of Bayos' Will, and to his enemies - the Reaper of Death. Cries of terror spread among his foes, and armies would retreat at the sight of him.
William was so consumed by this state that he forgot he was in a memory. He simply killed, plunged into the bloody frenzy of battle.
During one skirmish, William clashed with an Eastern general. After an intense duel, he defeated him. The general, breathing heavily and clutching his wound, knew his end was near.
- Kill me, - he said wearily, lowering his sword.
William paused, ready to deliver the final blow, but hesitated. This fallen enemy might continue his miserable existence if given a chance.
William remembered Bayos' teachings on mercy and realized that now he had the opportunity to follow his patron's example.
Clasping his hands on the hilt of his sword, he drove it into the ground before him and pointed a direction to the general.
- Go, and do not return, - he said firmly. - If you dare come back, you'll die for real
- As you wish, - the general responded with a bitter smile.
Wounded, he turned and slowly hobbled away, understanding that this act was merely a pale shadow of Bayos' mercy, which William sought to emulate but could never fully embody.
Mercy remained an unattainable ideal for William.
***
William sat atop his warhorse, lost in heavy thoughts. What was the point of it all? Perhaps there was no meaning at all...
Before him stretched an empty valley, painfully familiar. In the distance, he saw a girl playing with dolls and her mother hanging laundry. The girl noticed him and called to her mother:
- Mom! A knight is coming to see us. Could it be dad?
The woman dropped everything, holding her breath in anticipation. But William did not intend to return. A hundred meters from them, he thrust his banner into the ground and left a sack of gold and silver - all he had earned for his service in battle - at its base.
Taking his war horn, William raised it to his lips and sounded a long, drawn-out note, as if saying goodbye. He turned his horse around and rode off, heading back to his Knightly Order.
From that day forward, he never looked back, leading his warriors only forward.
With that, his Memory concluded.
When William opened his eyes, the statue of Bayos, the Almighty he had spilled blood for countless times on the battlefield, stood before him. Only a few hours had passed in reality, but in his Memory, it had stretched into long, painful years.
Now he understood: it was not just a game, not merely a memory. It had been a test, the meaning of which was only now becoming clear, as he once again held his sword in his hands.
William took up his sword, feeling its lightness and confidence, as if returning to the strength he had gained through years of war. But now he realized something else: the memory had not only added to his strength; it had changed something within him.
He sought Bayos' righteousness, but now he understood that mercy was not weakness - it was a strength available only to those unafraid of their own vulnerabilities. He looked at Bayos' statue with respect and a touch of sorrow, knowing that the path to true mercy would be a long one. Now he was destined to walk it to the end.
Sheathing his sword, he resolved to wield it not only for strength but to follow Bayos' example. This lesson from the past was now part of his present.
Fenri and the other elites had also begun to undergo their own Memories, each immersed in their personal trials. Meanwhile, the remaining players and teams set about organizing a camp and establishing a life in the Temple.
The Temple was enormous, with many rooms and spacious halls, but it could scarcely hold more than three hundred people. Gizard and other strong teams took multiple rooms, attracting powerful loners and forming alliances.
Those with strength and authority quickly claimed the best quarters, while less experienced teams and solo players faced difficulties - conflicts over space flared up.
Soon, the first killings occurred over disputes, and William had to intervene to put a stop to the disorder. With the newfound strength gained from his Memory, he was nearly invincible to most players.
Even those who had completed their Memories could not match him, with few exceptions, like Gizard.
William understood: if players were allowed to kill one another, only a few would survive to the second round, weakening their collective chances of survival. He knew this from games - the more players united, the higher the chances of success. But he still did not fully realize that this was not just a game.
Meanwhile, the first-level players unexpectedly demanded rooms and special treatment. But their expectations turned brutal: stronger players mercilessly drove them out, considering them useless burdens.
However, a few teams showed compassion, providing the cowards with shelter and basic supplies. Yet most leaders, including William and Gizard, ignored them; those who survived only by luck were unlikely to make it through the second round. Luck always runs out eventually.
Once the housing issues were settled, the problem of food arose. While the players managed to resolve sleep and shelter, the challenge of securing food and water proved more complex. They began assigning roles among themselves.
Each player had not only a primary combat class but also secondary skills they had chosen when simply playing their characters. Now, having truly become these characters, they possessed both combat abilities and remembered their secondary skills necessary for survival.
Many mages, aside from their primary craft, had learned alchemy, herb gathering and analysis, and enchantment. Some had studied blacksmithing and cooking, allowing them to supply their teams with potions, armor, and simple meals.
Warriors, accustomed to being on the front lines, had skills as blacksmiths, miners, and hunters. Their armor and weapons constantly wore out, and blacksmithing skills allowed them to repair, sharpen, and reinforce their gear. Mining skills enabled them to locate and extract ore, smelt it into ingots, and craft new weapons and armor.
Archers often had a hunter subclass, allowing them to track game and gather hides, meat, and other useful materials from slain animals. Some players possessed engineering skills, enabling them to construct barricades and fortifications during battles, quickly adapting to combat conditions using materials stored in their inventory.
Thanks to this skill diversity, players were able to effectively allocate roles. Mages and warriors ventured into the forest to search for herbs and useful minerals, while archers, with their scouting skills, searched for water sources.
Meat posed no problem; hundreds of dead wolves lay around, and cooks easily skinned them, preparing numerous dishes. While lacking salt and spices, the mages and warriors soon set out to find suitable herbs and seasonings to make the food not only filling but also palatable.
Despite years spent in virtual worlds, most of them had not forgotten real life. To afford powerful computers and costly games, they had first worked in the real world, acquiring basic skills.
Although many modern skills were useless here, a few people from each hundred had wilderness survival experience and other useful skills.
Now, these skills had become genuinely valuable, helping them find resources, build shelters, and survive in the harsh world, which with each passing day became more and more like the real one.
In the end, the strongest teams occupied rooms inside the Temple, while weaker groups and first-level players settled outside, erecting simple shelters. Some shelters were sturdy and reliable, but most looked pitiful and flimsy - many had never done this before, so they managed as best they could.
Each day, the leaders of the strong teams gathered to discuss important matters: who they were before, how they ended up here, what awaited them ahead, and how to handle daily conflicts among players.
Not all present were peaceful and balanced. Among the players were many aggressive and toxic personalities, often leading to clashes. However, thanks to the control of the strong teams, they managed to avoid deaths and prevent serious consequences.
Soon, the days of rest came to an end. Many players had already gathered before the Temple or nearby, waiting for the next trial to begin. Those who had hidden in the Temple or taken cover in other places were unexpectedly transported there as well, as if an invisible force was gathering them for the next stage.
Once everyone was together, a message appeared before them, flashing in the air with bright letters:
Second Round. Ascendance
Reach the level of the Supreme, overcoming mortality