CHAPTER 142: AN UNCOMFORTABLE DINNER

Nox stood over Elisa’s unconscious form, a faint wisp of black smoke dissipating from his fingertip.

Serian ran onto the training ground, kneeling beside her sister. "Elisa! Are you alright?"

Mela followed, stopping a few feet away. She just stared at Nox. ’He didn’t even use his full power. He just... played with her.’

Vexia walked calmly into the arena, her expression unreadable. She glanced at her fallen sister, then fixed her gaze on Nox.

Elisa groaned, her eyes fluttering open. She sat up, rubbing the back of her head. "What... what happened? The last thing I remember was my Supernova..." She looked at her own hands, then at Nox. "Did I win?"

"You lost," Nox stated, dismissing the last of the void armor from his skin. "You’re my training dummy for a week. And princess," he looked over at Serian, "you owe me dinner."

Elisa’s face turned red. "What?! Impossible! I used my final art! No one can just block that!"

"I didn’t block it. I ate it." Nox shrugged. "It was a little spicy."

"You... you...!" Elisa scrambled to her feet, but she swayed, her energy completely spent. "Fine! A bet’s a bet! But you better be ready, because I’m not going to be an easy training dummy, master."

"Good," Nox said. "It’d be boring if you were."

Vexia finally spoke. "Your control has improved since our... discussion. Your methods, however, remain crude." She turned and started walking away. "We will discuss the terms of your stay over dinner. All of you."

---

The dinner was incredibly awkward.

Elisa sat across from Nox, stabbing her food and glaring at him. Serian was trying her best to make small talk, while Mela just ate in a stony, resentful silence. Vexia sat at the head of the table, her gaze sharp.

"So," Nox broke the silence, "this sanctuary is nice. A little too bright, but the beds are comfortable."

"It is a fortress, designed to protect the last of our people," Vexia corrected him. "Not a resort."

"Whatever. You got any coffee here? I’m dying for some coffee."

Vexia ignored his question. "Nox. We need to discuss the nature of this world. Not your ’sponsor’. This new reality."

’Here we go again.’

"I have been studying the phenomena since our arrival," Vexia continued, her voice low and serious. "The appearance of monsters, the dungeons, the strange powers granted to individuals like yourself. We have come to call it the ’World’s Scripture’. A set of rules imposed upon reality."

Nox just kept eating. ’So she knows about the System. Saves me the trouble of making up more lies.’

"We know it grants levels," Vexia said, her eyes fixed on him. "We know it grants skills. And we know it chooses ’players’ from your world. You are one of them, aren’t you?"

"Yep."

Elisa slammed her fork down. "So you’re just some random human who got lucky with the magic lottery?"

"Something like that," Nox said.

"This is a problem," Vexia stated. "My sister is the last heir of the Feselian line. Entrusting her safety to a random, unstable variable of the Scripture is... suboptimal."

"Hey, I got her here, didn’t I? That’s more than you two did."

Vexia’s eyes narrowed. "The Scripture is not a benevolent force. Our research indicates that it operates on a system of scenarios and trials. What you have experienced so far, the dungeons, the monsters... we believe it has all been a tutorial phase."

Serian stopped eating. "A tutorial? What do you mean?"

"We believe a main event is coming," Vexia explained. "The Scripture speaks of an ’opening ceremony’. We theorize it will be a large-scale event, one that will involve every player chosen by the System. A forced competition. We believe it is imminent."

Nox felt a cold knot in his stomach. ’So the game is finally starting for real.’

[The entity ’Vexia Feselian’ has a high analytical capability,] Liona’s voice noted in his mind. [Her conclusions are 92% accurate based on available data.]

Just as Vexia finished speaking, the air in the room grew still. A deep, resonant hum vibrated through the very stones of the Sanctuary.

A massive, transparent screen appeared in Nox’s vision, but this time, it wasn’t just for him. Serian gasped. Mela’s eyes went wide. Even Vexia and Elisa were staring at the empty space in front of them with shocked expressions.

They could all see it.

[WORLD ANNOUNCEMENT]

[THE TUTORIAL PHASE HAS CONCLUDED.]

[INITIATING INTEGRATION OF ALL REGISTERED PLAYERS.]

[THE FIRST MAIN SCENARIO WILL BEGIN IN: 24:00:00.]

The entire dining hall was silent. Everyone, from the Sun Elf guards to the sisters, was staring at the massive, glowing text hanging in the air.

Elisa was the first to react. "What in the hells is that?"

"The Scripture," Vexia whispered, her analytical calm completely shattered. "It is communicating with all of us."

’So everyone can see this? Not just players?’ Nox thought, a strange feeling twisting in his gut. ’This is new.’

The text on the screen changed.

[SCENARIO 1: THE KING-MAKER.]

[OBJECTIVE: A new world requires new rulers. From the ashes of the old, a new order must be forged. Players, your first trial is to prove your worth. Prove you have the strength to lead.]

[RULES:]

[1. All registered players will be designated as ’Candidates’.]

[2. Each Candidate will be assigned a ’Flag’. This Flag represents your claim to leadership.]

[3. Protect your Flag. If your Flag is captured by another Candidate, you are eliminated from the scenario.]

[4. Capture the Flags of other Candidates. The more Flags you collect, the greater your reward.]

[VICTORY CONDITION: Survive.]

[SCENARIO DURATION: 72 Hours.]

[REWARDS: Based on final Flag count. The Candidate with the most Flags at the end of the scenario will be granted the title ’King’ and a unique, Mythical-grade reward.]

[ADDITIONAL DIRECTIVES: Non-player entities may choose to align with a Candidate. Their survival is linked to the survival of their chosen Candidate’s Flag.]

The screen flickered one last time and then vanished, leaving a stunned silence in its wake.

"King-Maker?" Mela said, her voice barely a whisper. "What does this mean? It is a hunt. They are turning the whole world into a hunting ground for these ’players’."

Serian looked at Nox, her face pale. "They are going to hunt you."

Nox just stood there, a slow, dangerous grin spreading across his face. ’So it’s a battle royale. A free-for-all. And I’m one of the main targets.’ He didn’t feel fear. He felt a familiar, thrilling buzz. ’This is going to be fun.’

A faint, shimmering light coalesced in the air in front of him. It solidified into a small, simple flag of pure black cloth, attached to a short, unadorned wooden pole. It just hovered there, radiating a faint, dark energy.

[You have been designated as a Candidate.]

[This is your Flag of the Void Monarch. Protect it.]

Elisa walked over and poked the flag with her finger. It felt solid. "So this is it? This little thing is what everyone is going to be fighting over?"

"It is a symbol," Vexia said, her mind already working, processing the new information. "A target. It forces conflict." She looked at Nox, her expression grim. "The Scripture has just painted a target on your back for every other player in this region."

"Good," Nox said, grabbing the flag from the air. It was surprisingly light. He unceremoniously jammed the pole into the back of his belt, the black cloth hanging down his back. "Let them come. It’ll save me the trouble of having to hunt them down myself."

"You cannot be serious!" Mela snapped. "You are just one person! How many of these ’players’ are there?"

As if in answer, a new screen appeared, this one a map of the local region. It was dotted with hundreds, maybe thousands, of tiny, blinking red lights. One of those lights, a slightly larger, purple one, was right where they were standing.

"That many," Vexia said, her voice grave.

Serian stepped forward, her expression firm. "Then we will protect him." She looked at her sisters. "He is our companion. His fight is our fight."

Elisa cracked her knuckles, a wide, predatory grin on her face. "A worldwide brawl with a shiny prize at the end? This sounds like my kind of party."

Vexia just sighed. "This is strategically... problematic. We have no information on the other Candidates’ abilities. We are operating blind."

"It’s not that complicated," Nox said, cutting through her analysis. He looked at the three sisters. "Here’s the plan. We find the biggest, most defensible place around here, we fortify it, and we wait."

"We wait?" Elisa looked disappointed. "I thought we were going to go out and crack some skulls."

"We let them come to us," Nox explained. "They’re all going to be running around like headless chickens, trying to find Flags. We let them kill each other off. We take out anyone who gets close. It’s more efficient. Less walking."

Vexia considered his plan. It was simple, defensive, and completely at odds with Nox’s usual reckless aggression. ’He has learned,’ she thought, a flicker of surprise in her eyes. ’He is actually thinking strategically.’

"It is a sound defensive strategy," she admitted. "The crystal spire at the center of the Sanctuary is the most defensible position. Its walls are impenetrable, and it has only one entrance."

"Then that’s where we go," Nox said. He looked at Mela. "You in, pointy-ears? Or are you gonna run back to your mom?"

Mela glared at him, but she gave a stiff nod. "My duty is to protect Her Highness. Where she goes, I go."

"Good," Nox said. He looked at the timer that was now a persistent, tiny icon in the corner of his vision. "We’ve got less than a day to prepare." He started walking out of the dining hall. "Let’s not waste it."

---

The next twenty-four hours were a blur of organized chaos. Vexia, in her element, took charge of the Sanctuary’s defenses. She directed the other Sun Elves, her voice sharp and commanding, as they reinforced the single entrance to the crystal spire with magical wards and physical barriers. She was turning their home into a fortress.

Elisa, meanwhile, was in charge of arming everyone. She was like a kid in a candy store, pulling out ancient, glowing weapons from the Sanctuary’s armory and passing them out to the handful of elven warriors. She tried to give Nox a massive, glowing warhammer. He just looked at it, then back at her.

"Too slow," he said, and summoned his Brutalizers. Elisa just laughed and kept the hammer for herself.

Serian was the diplomat. She moved through the Sanctuary, her presence a calming balm on the elves’ frayed nerves. She explained the situation, her voice steady and full of a quiet confidence that was infectious. She was no longer just a lost princess; she was a leader, and her people responded to it.

Mela, surprisingly, found her place as the scout. She spent hours in the mountains surrounding the valley, a silent ghost moving through the peaks. She returned with reports of other players, small groups already forming, moving erratically, drawn by the promise of the King-Maker scenario.

And Nox? He spent the entire day in his room. In his Territory.

He sat cross-legged on the floor, the black flag leaning against the wall beside him. He wasn’t training his body. He was training his power. Within the absolute authority of his Territory, he could manipulate the void with a precision that was impossible outside of it.

He practiced. He forged weapons, not just simple daggers and spears, but complex, interlocking pieces of armor, a full helmet with a horned visor, sharpened greaves, a shield that could grow spikes on command. He practiced his Monarch’s Dominion, expanding the sphere of black-hole-nothingness, learning to hold it, to control it, to feel its terrifying, hungry pull.

He was preparing for war.

As the final hour of the countdown began, they all gathered at the reinforced gate of the crystal spire.

"Reports are coming in from our outer sentries," Vexia announced, her face grim. "Dozens of Candidates are converging on this valley. It seems our Sanctuary’s powerful magical signature has made us a very attractive first target."

"Let them come," Elisa said, hefting her new warhammer. "They’ll break themselves on our walls."

"Nox," Serian said, turning to him. "Are you ready?"

He just nodded, his eyes fixed on the timer in his vision.

[00:00:10]

[00:00:09]

...

[00:00:03]

[00:00:02]

[00:00:01]

[THE FIRST SCENARIO HAS BEGUN!]

[GOOD LUCK, CANDIDATES.]

The moment the countdown hit zero, a scream echoed from the valley below. The battle for the throne had started.