Ezgar's gaze locked onto the projection. The veins in his eyes flared red with rising fury.
The screen displayed a scene every citizen on the planet could recite by heart—an endless starfield, gradually zooming in on planet Anarken. Then came the same voice:
"In just a few decades, everything changed. Once, we believed we were alone in this vast universe.
But we were wrong. Utterly wrong."
Ezgar's body trembled. His fists clenched. His jaw tightened until it hurt.
He had seen this damn video too many times. In school. At public rallies. Even at memorials for those who died in the Verge.
And now, alone in a dim room, they were calling this recycled propaganda "exclusive information"?
He scoffed bitterly. His eyes remained bloodshot.
"Old man... is this what you meant by exclusive? If your plan was to piss me off—well done. Mission accomplished. Now shut this damn thing off!"
But the video continued.
"Our curiosity shattered an invisible boundary—one that once protected us from outsiders..."
"Enough!" Ezgar stormed to the door and slammed his fist against it.
"OPEN UP, OLD MAN! I SWEAR—I'll burn this place to the ground!"
No response. Only the video's cold narration echoed back.
Without thinking, Ezgar kicked the door with everything he had.
Big mistake.
"AHHH!"
Pain shot up his leg like lightning. His foot went numb.
"Fuck! What the hell is this door made of?!"
Hopping on one foot, he limped back to the seat and collapsed, clutching his foot.
Head tilted back, eyes fixed on the ceiling, he whispered:
"Did I do something that horrible? I stole a few things… hit a few people… flirted with some pretty girls now and then… But I'm an orphan! What did they expect from me?"
He let out a long, bitter sigh. "But this... this is just torture."
The projection droned on, but Ezgar closed his eyes. The pain and exhaustion finally caught up. Sleep overtook him fast, dragging him under.
————————————————————
A blinding light pierced his eyelids.
Ezgar groaned and raised a hand to shield his eyes. When he adjusted, the door stood open—and the old man had returned.
Ezgar blinked.
"Huh. So you do open doors. I thought you just locked me in and went off to die."
The old man chuckled.
"I'll give you this, kid—you've got patience. Most scream halfway through the video. You? You slept."
Then his tone sharpened. "But you need to move."
Ezgar sat up, blinking rapidly. "Wait—how long was I out?"
"Not long. Just a few minutes left before the Verge."
Without another word, the man turned and walked off—light-footed but swift.
Ezgar scrambled up, still limping slightly.
"Oye! Old man! Wait! Can you—huff—slow down a bit?!"
But that man kept moving at his own pace.
After a short distance, the old man finally turned to him.
"Head straight to the main building. The others are waiting there."
Without another word, he walked away.
Ezgar watched him go—still irritated, still full of questions—but the man never looked back.
Soon, Ezgar arrived at the main administration building—the tallest one. Its massive glass doors opened into a wide hall teeming with people.
Dozens—no, hundreds—were gathered. Some looked pale with fear. The Others were blank and expressionless. A few stood tall, eyes blazing with resolve.
But one group stood out—they were laughing.
Ezgar glanced over—and instantly realized:
They were laughing at him.
Confused, he checked his reflection in the glass. Nothing odd. His clothes were simple but clean. His face looked tired—not comical.
"What the hell are they laughing at?"
He didn't react. Not openly. But he memorized every face.
"Laugh now. I'll remember all of you. Catch one of you alone... and I'll return the favor."
He knew better than to start a fight. They outnumbered him, and he wasn't suicidal.
So, he calmly stepped away, moving out of their line of sight.
As he passed, someone sneered loudly:
"Look at that idiot. Came early like it's a school test. Doesn't even know the basics. Someone tell him to stop wasting his life. Come serve me instead—maybe he'll live to see forty."
Ezgar's fists clenched, but he forced them open with a slow exhale.
Then someone stepped into his path—a boy in light body armor with a dagger sheathed at his side. His face was forgettable, but his build was solid.
Ezgar's eyes narrowed.
A weapon? I thought those weren't allowed. Armor makes sense... but that dagger?
Before the boy could speak, Ezgar cut in.
"May I ask something?"
The boy raised an eyebrow but still nodded.
"Go ahead."
Ezgar pointed at the dagger.
"Isn't it prohibited to carry weapons into the trial?"
The boy burst out laughing like Ezgar had told a joke.
"Hahaha! You serious? That rule's for normal trash like you. No one's gonna stop us. But you better be ready to pay the price."
Ezgar's lip twitched. The arrogance radiating off this guy was thicker than his armor.
The boy leaned in, mock-serious. "Wanna know why it's allowed? Agree to my condition first."
Ezgar stared… then turned and walked away.
Hehe. This bastard's got muscles, not brains. No need—I already got my answer.
He was confused.
Huh... Shouldn't he take the bait and agree to my condition? No. Stop. Fuck... I've to stop him.
The boy stepped in front of him again.
"Whoa—hey! You asked. That means you owe me."
Ezgar looked him dead in the eye as if they met for the first time.
"You didn't give me anything useful. So I don't owe you a damn thing."
Then he brushed past.
The boy stood frozen, but soon snapped out from his shock. "Damn it... Boss is gonna kill me. It was a simple task... How'd I mess it up?"
At that moment, a thunderous voice cut through the hall: "ATTENTION!"
Ezgar turned with the others—and froze.
It was the old man. But not the one from before.
This man stood like a war-god. A massive sword hung from his back. His silver hair floated unnaturally. His beard looked like sharpened steel. His body gleamed in full battle armor.
Ezgar blinked, his heart skipped.
What the fuck—that's the same old man?! How did I miss all that before? And I called him... "old man"? How am I still alive?!
The man glanced at Ezgar and gave him a faint, amused smile.
Then his gaze turned sharp.
"Participants. You are moments from crossing over. Listen well."
His voice deepened: "Inside, each of you will face a task. You won't know what it is until it begins. Don't ask questions. Just do it. That's the only way to survive."
He paused, letting the silence hang.
"There's another world out there. Stronger. Stranger. Hungrier."
The ground rumbled. A pillar of blue light crashed down beside him. Strange patterns glowed on the platform at its base.
Ezgar's eyes widened.
That's… no teleport tech I've ever seen. Is this how they send us?
"Enter the passage!" the old man commanded.
People began stepping into the light—one by one—then vanishing.
Ezgar hesitated, but he kept moving forward. Even now, one thought lingered in his mind:
Everyone had something—swords, gear, enchanted trinkets. But I... I have nothing.
As he approached the platform, he noticed a small crack—a broken shard of stone.
He bent down and picked it up. Rough. Heavy. One side sharp.
Still—better than nothing.
With the stone in hand, he stepped into the light.
The blue light covered around him. His body felt weightless—then heavy. His ears rang. His chest tightened.
And then—a virtual screen appeared before his eyes.
[WELCOME TO THE VERGE]
[System Integration... 1% ... 52% ....99%... 100%]
[Integration Complete.]
[Binding Task: DIE.]