The room was utterly silent. Erwin's pulse, which had been racing moments ago, began to slow, but his mind continued to race at full speed. He had been through countless challenges in this strange, hostile world, yet this felt different. Three questions. Only three.
He stood still, breathing deeply, his mind sharpening. This wasn't a gift—it was another trap, cloaked in the guise of generosity. The rules here were cruel and unforgiving. Every word he spoke would be scrutinized, every syllable weighted with consequence. There was no room for error.
"Think," he muttered under his breath. His voice, though soft, sounded harsh in the stillness. "What do I need to know?"
The voice, cold and devoid of emotion, shattered the silence. "You may ask your first question."
Erwin didn't speak immediately. He didn't even glance at the directionless source of the sound. Instead, he paced, his footsteps making faint sounds on the smooth, featureless floor. His expression was calm, but his eyes betrayed the storm of thoughts swirling in his mind. Every step, every turn, was deliberate. He weighed the possibilities, considered every angle. Knowledge was a powerful tool, but only if wielded correctly. Asking the wrong question could lead to vague answers—answers that would be as useless as silence.
After several long moments, he stopped pacing. His eyes, sharp and calculating, seemed to pierce the void itself as he spoke with precision.
"Who created the Paradox World System?"
The question hung in the air, and the room seemed to dim as if the inquiry carried an unbearable weight. For a moment, the silence stretched, thick and oppressive. Then, the voice answered, steady and unfeeling.
"The creator of the Paradox World System is you."
The words hit Erwin like a physical blow. His breath caught in his throat, and he felt his carefully maintained composure falter for the first time since the trial began. He stared into the featureless void, his thoughts racing as he tried to comprehend the enormity of what he had just heard.
"Me?" he whispered, his voice tinged with disbelief. "That doesn't make any sense. Why would I…"
Before he could finish the thought, the voice interrupted, its tone unchanged. "You have asked your first question. You may proceed with the second."
Erwin's fists clenched at his sides. Anger bubbled beneath the surface, but he quickly suppressed it. Getting angry wouldn't help. The voice wasn't human; it wouldn't care about his frustration or confusion. It existed only to deliver its predetermined responses. Any emotional outburst on his part would be a waste of time and energy.
"Focus," he told himself firmly, his voice barely audible. "You're not here to react. You're here to win."
He inhaled deeply, forcing himself to calm down. If what the voice said was true, then there were layers to this situation he hadn't even begun to uncover. Why would he create a system that would trap him inside it? Why was he labeled an anomaly? The answer he had been given wasn't an answer at all—it was a fragment, a piece of a puzzle that was far from complete.
When he spoke again, his voice was steady and measured. "What was the purpose of creating the Paradox World System?"
The room responded immediately. This time, the light grew brighter, almost blinding, as if the question had unlocked some deeper truth. The voice answered with its characteristic calm.
"The Paradox World System was created to prepare humanity for war against the unknown."
The words sent a chill down Erwin's spine. He stood frozen, processing the implications. War against the unknown?
He had seen the monsters, the desolate landscapes, the endless chaos that seemed to define this world. But war? Against what? Against who? The monsters? Something else entirely? The term "unknown" was maddeningly vague, leaving more questions than answers.
"It's not just survival," he murmured, his tone reflective. "It's preparation."
His thoughts raced, trying to make sense of it all. The system wasn't just designed to torment or challenge—it had a purpose. But if that purpose was to prepare humanity for war, then why wasn't it clearer? Why were people left to flounder, fighting for their lives without understanding what they were being prepared for?
Erwin knew he only had one question left. It had to be the right one. He needed something that would bring clarity, something that would tie the fragmented answers together. He closed his eyes for a moment, blocking out the featureless room around him. He pictured the wastelands, the crimson skies, the monsters that roamed freely. He imagined the people who, unlike him, had systems to guide them—tools, abilities, advantages he lacked.
When he opened his eyes, his gaze was resolute. He stood taller, his voice carrying an air of finality as he asked his third question.
"How do I end the Paradox World System?"
The silence that followed was different this time. It was heavier, almost suffocating. The voice, which had been quick to respond before, now hesitated. The pause was brief but noticeable. When the voice finally spoke, its tone carried an air of gravity.
"The Paradox World System cannot be ended. Its cycle is infinite, and its purpose unyielding. The only way to disrupt it is to confront its core: the Overseer."
Erwin's jaw tightened. The Overseer. That voice—the one that had guided, taunted, and judged him throughout his trials. Now it had a name. More than that, it had a role: it was the system's core, and therefore, its weakness.
"And how exactly do I do that?" he muttered to himself, but he already knew he wouldn't get an answer. The voice spoke again, this time with an air of finality.
"Your questions are finished. You have completed the trial."
The room began to dissolve into darkness, the featureless void closing in around him. He felt weightless for a moment, suspended in nothingness.
---
When Erwin opened his eyes, he was back in the barren wasteland where his journey had begun. The crimson sky stretched overhead, oppressive and unchanging. The air was sharp and dry, carrying a faint metallic tang that lingered unpleasantly in his throat. He flexed his fingers, testing the reality around him. It was real. He had escaped the labyrinth.
A faint vibration in his pocket broke his thoughts. Reaching inside, he pulled out the small, glowing device—the System Initiative. Its screen displayed new text:
Mission Complete: Trial of the Mind
Reward Unlocked: Knowledge Fragment
He stared at the words for a moment, his expression unreadable. A small icon blinked in the corner of the screen. He tapped it, and the text shifted to reveal a fragment of a message:
"The Overseer resides where all beginnings meet their end. The core is both a destination and a reflection. To find it, you must first find yourself."
Erwin's lips curled into a faint, humorless smile. "Vague, as always," he muttered, sliding the device back into his pocket. His mind was already racing, piecing together the fragments of information he had gathered.
If the Overseer was the key, then everything he had endured so far was just a prelude. Every step, every trial, every choice—it had all been leading him to something far greater. But the revelations he had uncovered left him unsettled. He had created this world. Somehow, in a future he couldn't yet comprehend, he had set all of this into motion.
Straightening his posture, Erwin turned his gaze to the horizon. His expression hardened, his resolve unshaken. If this was his creation, then he would use it to his advantage. The war the system was preparing for didn't scare him. What scared him was the possibility that he might lose control of his own design.
"I'll find the Overseer," he said quietly, his voice cold and unwavering. "And when I do, I'll decide what happens next."
Without hesitation, he began walking forward.