As the message fully appeared on the screen, Kaiza gasped, unable to contain his surprise. What did this mean?
"A game?" he thought, a disbelieving smile creeping across his face, tinged with fear. He hadn't expected an answer, but then the same thing that happened at the door unfolded again.
[A hero game.]
The message appeared slowly, letter by letter, until it was fully displayed. Kaiza had gotten the answer he sought, but now more questions flooded his mind. What were the consequences of losing at the door? Was it death, too? He wondered.
Even though he had longed for death to end his relentless chase, the moment Kaiza stepped into this magnificent room, his heart stirred with a newfound desire. He wanted more—more to explore, more to see of the world's beauty. The thought of dying vanished in an instant.
"Will I get a reward for winning the game?" Kaiza asked, his voice almost eager. He spoke to the screen as though someone on the other side could hear him. He assumed someone was controlling the system, especially since the instructions never appeared all at once. They seemed to be typed in real time, as if someone was watching him. But just as he settled on this idea, another question struck him.
How could the person possibly read the questions he had only asked in his mind? Kaiza couldn't answer this puzzling thought, so he abandoned his earlier conclusion, deciding to revisit it later with deeper analysis and evidence.
For now, his attention returned to the screen. He expected a new message to appear, just as before. However, no response to his latest spoken question appeared. Instead, the screen displayed an answer to the silent question he had asked in his mind moments ago.
The response lingered on the screen, unmoving, as Kaiza waited impatiently for an answer to his new question.
Then, he asked silently in his mind, "I hope death isn't the consequence of asking a question?"
The thought unsettled him. What if the system—or whoever controlled it—intended to kill him? But why? What would they gain from it?
Kaiza's mind raced with worry. How could anyone read his thoughts? He had heard of psychologists predicting behavior, but that was based on empirical methods, not mere assumptions. And if this system could somehow scan his mind and extract questions... that was inconceivable. Humanity hadn't advanced to that level of technology—or so he believed.
With that, Kaiza forced himself to dismiss the idea entirely, determined to clear his mind of the troubling thought.
[You can ask 2 more questions]
After the message appeared on the screen, Kaiza noticed a deduction in a number displayed at the bottom-left corner of the rectangular screen. The number shifted and transformed into a fraction: 2/5.
"That's the number of questions I have left to ask before the game begins… or can I ask questions during the game?" he wondered aloud, his voice carrying a mix of curiosity and concern.
But the screen remained unresponsive. No answer appeared.
Kaiza paused and considered this. He pieced together a possible explanation: questions asked in his mind received answers, while those spoken aloud were ignored entirely. That could only mean one thing—the screen only responded to thoughts, not words.
Intrigued, Kaiza decided to test his theory. With just two questions left, he resolved to use them wisely. He would ask something crucial—something that could guarantee his success in the game.
"What is the consequence of losing the game?" Kaiza asked in his mind.
[When the game is lost, the host faces a death penalty.]
Kaiza's heart sank. He had expected that answer, but hearing it confirmed sent a shiver down his spine. Still, this wasn't just about knowing; it was about testing if his assumptions were correct.
"What's the reward for winning?" he asked next, flipping his earlier question. He wanted to see if the reward would entice him enough to strive even harder to win. Though, truthfully, Kaiza already had a burning desire to win—reward or not.
[The reward for winning is power.]
As the words appeared and settled on the screen, Kaiza stared in amazement. His mind raced with questions. What kind of power? What could this "hero game" grant him?
Just as his thoughts deepened, the screen chimed again, interrupting his wonder. A new message appeared.
[The game will start now.]
[Game instructions are simple.]
[You are the hero. Play the hero.]
Kaiza's focus sharpened. Determination burned in his eyes as he resolved to win the game, no matter the odds. The promise of the reward, whatever it might be, consumed his curiosity. He had to see it for himself.
Suddenly, a series of stats rolled out on the screen:
[Number of questions: 5]
[Number of questions answered correctly: 0]
[Number of questions answered wrongly: 0]
Below that, a breakdown of the game's stages appeared:
[Level 1 (Easy): 2 questions (2 marks)]
[Level 2 (Intermediate): 2 questions (4 marks)]
[Level 3 (Difficult): 1 question (5 marks)]
Kaiza's gaze lingered on the screen, absorbing every detail. The challenge ahead seemed straightforward, yet he knew the stakes were anything but simple. Play the hero, he thought, steeling himself.
After reading the instructions, Kaiza interpreted them in his mind. He understood that the questions would likely become more challenging as the game progressed. Whatever they were, he hoped to answer them correctly. But one question lingered in his thoughts: What does it truly mean to be a hero?
Kaiza wasn't certain yet. He pondered the idea for a while. Did it mean saving people like the legendary heroes did during the Dowolf Beast's First World War attack? Or was it about defeating a singular villain?
No matter how hard he tried, Kaiza couldn't settle on a clear answer. It was complicated. He was an avid fan of heroes and knew almost everything about them. They were humanity's saviors, defeating its greatest calamities and nemeses. But was that still what it meant to be a hero? Or was this game asking him to play the hero?
Before he could delve deeper into his thoughts, a chime echoed through the room, snapping him out of his head. The sound came from the system, signaling that new information was being displayed—something Kaiza needed to know before the game began.
On the screen, a battery-like bar appeared, but no explanation accompanied it.
"What does this mean?" Kaiza muttered, his lips barely parting.
As he stared, he noticed the bar decrease by half. Out of the ten segments it originally contained, only five remained. But what could that possibly signify?
Before Kaiza could dwell too long on the question, new information began to appear on the screen:
[You have five life bars already.]
[Missed questions deduct your life.]
[Correct answers increase your life.]
[Make sure your life bar doesn't drop below 7.]
Kaiza studied the text carefully, letting the words sink in. He processed the information thoroughly, interpreting it in a way that made the most sense to him. The stakes were clearer now, and with each deduction or addition to his life bar, the outcome of the game would hang in the balance.
"It means I have to raise my life bar above seven and never let it drop below that. If it does… I guess that means death. I need to get the answers right in the first two stages and try my hardest on the third stage," Kaiza thought, determination solidifying in his mind.
As he completed his thoughts, the system chimed, and a new message appeared:
[Let's begin.]
Kaiza inhaled deeply, gathering his resolve, and exhaled slowly to steady his nerves.
[Level 1 (Easy) - Questions must be answered within a time limit of thirty seconds.]
[First Question:]
[Is heroism learned or is it an innate quality?]
After the question appeared, two options were provided below:
[Innate quality]
[Learned]
The timer began to count down rapidly, each second pressing Kaiza to decide.
Kaiza smiled at the question. To him, it seemed trivial. Who wouldn't know the answer to this? But just as he was about to select an option, a third one appeared: Both. The timer had already dropped below twenty seconds.
Kaiza paused, his mind racing. Heroism could be learned, he reasoned. It involved processes, growth, and stages before someone could truly embody it. But at the same time, some individuals were born with innate abilities. In the world now, people inherited powers from their family lineages.
After the war, it was confirmed that there were humans with blue blood, a unique bloodline granting special abilities. Later, there were discoveries of purple-blooded humans—individuals who could perform feats that even blue-blooded humans couldn't achieve. However, the purple-blooded humans were branded as monsters and killed.
Kaiza had read about this, and it made choosing an answer difficult. What he initially thought was a simple question now felt far more complex. And this was just the easy stage.