The cold marble beneath Erwin's hands sent a shiver through his body as he steadied himself, still disoriented from the violent pull of the portal. His breaths came ragged and uneven, but he forced himself to slow down. The heavy double doors behind him groaned open, and the sound of approaching footsteps echoed through the vast hall. Erwin didn't need to look up to know he was now the center of attention.
"Who are you?" The voice was sharp and commanding, one that brooked no defiance. Erwin raised his gaze slowly, meeting the piercing eyes of Reynard Vos, the Revient of the Merchant Guild. Around him, the other guild leaders stood in tense silence, their assistants close at hand.
Erwin rose to his feet with deliberate slowness, brushing the dust off his tattered cloak. He didn't answer immediately, letting their suspicion settle thick in the air. His mind was racing, not with panic but with calculation. These people were clearly powerful, and the fact that they hadn't killed him outright meant they were curious. That gave him an edge—however slight.
"I'm… no one important," Erwin finally said, his tone calm but intentionally vague. "Just a player who got lost."
Velara Sable scoffed, her silver hair catching the faint light as she stepped forward. "Lost? In the heart of the Council Hall? Do you take us for fools?"
Erwin met her gaze without flinching. "Believe me, I don't want to be here any more than you want me to be. One moment, I was completing a mission. The next, I was dragged into some kind of distortion. I didn't even know where I'd landed until now."
The room fell silent for a beat, the weight of his words hanging in the air. Velara narrowed her eyes, clearly unconvinced, but it was Evelyn Mora who spoke next.
"You expect us to believe that you, a supposed rookie, managed to survive a distortion that even seasoned players struggle to escape from?" Her voice was calm, but there was steel beneath it. "That you found yourself here, in a place sealed off from all but the highest-ranking guild members?"
Erwin shrugged. "What can I say? Luck, maybe. Or bad luck, depending on how you see it."
Harkon Dray let out a low chuckle, the wolf at his feet lifting its head to growl softly. "You've got guts, I'll give you that. But guts won't save you if you're lying."
Erwin held his ground, his expression unchanging. Inside, however, his thoughts were racing. These guild leaders weren't just powerful—they were organized, structured. Yet, that was what didn't make sense. It had only been three weeks since the day of the Calling, since the world had transformed into this chaotic game. How could humanity have advanced so quickly? Guilds, leaders, a council—it was all too much, too fast.
But he couldn't let them see his confusion. He had to play the role he'd crafted in those few seconds of panic. "I don't know what else to tell you. I was a rookie, still figuring things out. I took a mission I probably shouldn't have, and I paid the price. The distortion must've messed with my registration or something. Maybe that's why you can't find me in your system."
Reynard exchanged a glance with his assistant, Lyric Gale, who stepped forward and handed him a tablet. Reynard studied the screen for a moment before looking back at Erwin. "We ran your identity through the forum database. There's no record of you. No guild affiliation. Nothing. As far as the system is concerned, you don't exist."
Erwin felt his pulse quicken, but he forced himself to remain calm. He tilted his head slightly, feigning mild annoyance. "I told you, I wasn't fully registered yet. I didn't even have a guild. I was just trying to survive like everyone else."
Velara's smirk returned, sharper this time. "Convenient, isn't it? A nobody with no record and no guild, suddenly appearing in the Council Hall. Either you're the unluckiest rookie alive… or you're lying."
Erwin allowed a faint smile to tug at the corner of his lips. "Believe what you want. But if I were lying, don't you think I'd come up with a better story?"
Garran Thorn, who had been silently observing, finally spoke. His deep voice rumbled through the hall like distant thunder. "Enough. We're wasting time. If he's lying, we'll find out soon enough. For now, he stays under watch."
Reynard hesitated, clearly weighing his options. Then he nodded. "Agreed. We'll continue this interrogation later. Take him to the waiting room."
Before anyone could object, Reynard's assistant gestured to a pair of guards, who stepped forward to escort Erwin out. Erwin allowed himself to be led away, maintaining an air of quiet defiance. Inside, though, he was already planning his next move.
The waiting room was small and sparsely furnished, a stark contrast to the grandeur of the Council Hall. Erwin sat in one of the metal chairs, his hands resting on his knees. The guards stood by the door, their expressions unreadable.
He took the moment to reflect, piecing together what he'd learned. Time had clearly passed differently here than it had for him. Three weeks wasn't enough for humanity to adapt to the system so thoroughly. The existence of guilds, leaders, and even a governing council suggested years of development, not days.
But why? Why had time moved faster here? And more importantly, why had the distortions brought him to this place? There was something bigger at play, something he didn't yet understand.
The door creaked open, and one of the guards stepped inside. "You're not off the hook yet, rookie. The Revients aren't done with you."
Erwin stood, his expression neutral. "Of course they're not."
As he was led back to the Council Hall, Erwin couldn't help but feel the weight of unseen eyes on him. The guild leaders might not trust him, but he was certain of one thing: they had no idea who they were dealing with. And for now, that was exactly how he wanted it.