The room had grown eerily silent, save for the low hum of the surveillance orb hovering in the corner. Erwin leaned back in his chair, his sharp eyes flicking around the sterile room. Every detail mattered, from the faint grooves in the metal walls to the rhythmic flicker of the dim overhead light. It was as if the room itself was testing his patience, waiting for him to falter.
Then, it happened—a low, stuttering whine of machinery, followed by the faintest flicker of the lights. The surveillance orb jerked slightly, its steady hum disrupted. For a brief moment, Erwin froze, his senses on high alert. The door to the room hissed open with a quiet, almost reluctant groan.
Erwin didn't hesitate. Whatever glitch had opened the door was a rare opportunity, and he wasn't about to waste it. He stood, his movements fluid and precise, and stepped cautiously into the hallway beyond.
The corridor stretched before him, dimly lit and eerily empty. The air was cool, almost unnaturally so, and carried a faint metallic tang. Erwin's footsteps were muffled against the smooth floor as he moved with careful deliberation, his sharp gaze scanning for potential threats.
The silence was oppressive, but his mind raced with possibilities. Why had the door opened? Was it intentional, or had some system malfunctioned? The Revients had been meticulous, their control over the facility absolute. A lapse like this seemed... unlikely.
Erwin's hand brushed against the wall as he walked, the cool surface grounding him. He didn't know where the hallway led, but he wouldn't turn back. Every step brought him closer to understanding this place—and, perhaps, the truth about his own circumstances.
He rounded a corner and came to an abrupt halt. Before him was a large, ornately furnished dining room, a stark contrast to the sterile corridors. A long, polished table stretched across the room, its surface gleaming under a warm, golden light. At the far end of the table sat an old man in a wheelchair, his posture straight and composed.
The man was dressed impeccably in a tailored suit, his silver hair combed back neatly. A fine meal was laid out before him, and he was eating with measured precision, using the proper utensils for each dish. The scene was surreal, almost theatrical in its presentation.
The old man looked up, his piercing blue eyes locking onto Erwin. "Ah, there you are," he said, his voice calm yet commanding. "Do come in. We have much to discuss."
Erwin didn't move immediately, his instincts screaming for caution. His sharp eyes took in every detail of the room, from the placement of the chairs to the faint scent of roasted meat wafting through the air. This was no ordinary encounter.
"How do you know my name?" Erwin asked, his tone measured.
The old man chuckled softly, setting down his utensils. "I know far more than just your name, Mr. Erwin. Now, sit. Eat with me."
Erwin's muscles tensed, his mind racing. Every fiber of his being told him not to trust this man, but something about the old man's presence was disarming. He shook his head. "I'll pass."
The old man's expression darkened ever so slightly, his voice dropping to a more serious tone. "I insist."
Erwin's body betrayed him. Without warning, he found himself moving toward the table, his legs carrying him against his will. His hands pulled out a chair and sat him down, the movements mechanical and precise. Panic bubbled just beneath the surface of his calm demeanor as his hands reached for the utensils in front of him.
Then, as suddenly as it began, the control faded. Erwin regained his agency, his breathing quickening slightly as he processed what had just happened. He glanced at the old man, who now wore a faint smile.
"What did you do to me?" Erwin demanded, his voice cold.
The old man leaned back in his wheelchair, a look of faint amusement crossing his face. "Calm yourself, young man. It's a simple measure to ensure cooperation. Now, let us proceed."
Erwin remained tense but said nothing, his gaze fixed on the man.
The old man began again, his tone conversational. "You've already been asked many questions by the Revients, I imagine. Tell me, how did you respond?"
Erwin's jaw tightened. "The truth."
The old man chuckled, a deep, resonant sound that filled the room. "You're good, but not great. Truth is a matter of perspective, after all."
Erwin's mind raced. This man was clearly more dangerous than he appeared, and his ability to control Erwin's actions was deeply unsettling. He remained silent, his sharp gaze assessing every word and movement.
After a moment, the old man's expression shifted, his tone turning more direct. "Show me your system grid."
Erwin froze. His heart skipped a beat as the realization hit him—he had no idea what a system grid was, let alone how to show it. His lack of response spoke volumes.
"As I thought," the old man murmured, a note of intrigue in his voice.
The wheelchair creaked softly as the old man wheeled closer, the faint sound echoing in the silent room. Erwin's body tensed, but once again, he found himself unable to move. His limbs were paralyzed as the man reached out and placed a hand on the left side of his chest.
A faint blue glow emanated from the point of contact, and a translucent dashboard appeared above them. Erwin's heart sank as he saw the display. It was clear, even to him, that he was systemless. The dashboard labeled him as an anomaly, unregistered and unaffiliated with any guild. Yet, curiously, it highlighted a single designation: Path of Chaos.
The old man's eyes lit up with interest. "How... fascinating," he said softly. "You're an anomaly, yet the path you follow shouldn't be possible without a system."
Erwin regained control of his body, his breathing uneven as he stared at the man. "Who are you?" he demanded.
The old man's expression softened, a faint smile playing on his lips. "I am the Guild Founder," he said simply.
Erwin's mind reeled. The Guild Founder? The implications were staggering, but before he could process them, the old man continued.
"Your execution," the old man said, his voice calm but firm, "has been suspended."
Erwin's eyes widened. "Execution?"
The old man ignored his question, wheeling away from the table with deliberate slowness. The blue dashboard flickered and disappeared as he moved.
As he reached the door, the old man paused, his voice dropping to a whisper. "The Path of Chaos... how very interesting."
With that, he disappeared into the hallway, leaving Erwin alone in the dimly lit room. The silence returned, but Erwin's mind was anything but quiet.
The pieces of this puzzle were growing more complex, and Erwin was determined to find the truth. For now, though, one thing was clear: his survival would require more than just cunning—it would require a strength he had yet to fully comprehend.