Chapter 45 The Game Begins
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Lassen stood in the middle of that strange void, where the white floor and the dark sky seemed to stretch endlessly. It was as if he were floating between existence and nothingness, caught in a space that defied reason.
His breath echoed faintly, shallow and quick, as if even the air around him resisted his presence.
"What is this place ?"
"System...system"
He tried to call the system but he got no response
"Where the hell are you when i need you"
He took a hesitant step forward.
The sound rang out—sharp and brittle, like the chime of glass on the verge of shattering.
A chill crawled down his spine.
This place was wrong. Everything about it screamed at him to turn back, to escape, but there was nowhere to go. Only the endless horizon of pale ground and pitch-black sky.
He clenched his fists to steady himself, but the tremor in his hands betrayed him.
And then—it came.
A sound.
A distant explosion, muffled but unmistakable.
Then another.
The echoes spread outward, rippling through the emptiness, sharp and unnatural. The cracks in the silence felt as if reality itself was beginning to splinter.
He blinked—and everything changed.
---
Alex gripped his phone tightly, his knuckles white. Sweat slicked his fingers, but he didn't dare loosen his hold.
The blood spreading beneath Lassen's still body seemed endless, dark and thick, soaking into the once-pristine marble. It pooled like a shadow, growing larger with each second that passed.
Adrian stood nearby, gun drawn and pointed toward the shattered windows. His body was tense, like a predator ready to strike, but his eyes betrayed him. There was fear—controlled, buried deep, but there.
Alex swallowed hard and forced himself to dial the number he needed.
The line rang.
Once.
Twice.
Every second stretched unbearably long until finally—
"Alex? What's going on?"
The voice of the police chief came through, calm, almost lazy.
"Someone shot Mr. X."
A heavy pause.
The sudden scrape of a chair rang through the line.
"What?! What did you say !? Are you sure?! What happened !?"
"No time to explain. I need an ambulance. Now!"
"I'm dispatching one immediately. Security teams too."
"Good. Hurry."
Alex ended the call and tossed the phone onto the table, not caring where it landed. He dropped to his knees beside Lassen.
Adrian was already checking for a pulse.
"Still alive. Barely" Adrian said, voice clipped.
"Master! Can you hear me?" Alex's voice cracked. "Master!!"
Nothing.
Lassen's chest barely moved, his breathing shallow and uneven. The pale hue of his skin made the dark red of the blood look even more brutal.
"We're losing him" Alex muttered. "We need to stabilize him now!"
Clara and Yann burst into the room, their eyes wide with panic.
"What happened?!" Clara shouted.
"Yann, get the kit!" Adrian snapped.
Yann stumbled toward the medical supplies while Clara pressed down hard on the wound.
"Stay with us, Lassen!" she cried. "Don't you dare give up!"
But his eyes slid shut.
---
"Don't tell me I died again."
The words felt strange—disconnected, as if they belonged to someone else.
Lassen's eyes fluttered open, but the brightness stung.
Everything around him was white. The ground beneath his feet looked like polished marble, too smooth, too perfect. It reflected a faint glow but cast no shadow.
Above him stretched the void—black, endless, hungry.
The sight made his stomach churn.
He took a step forward, and the sound of his footfall echoed unnaturally, sharp and hollow.
"What is this place?" he murmured.
His voice hung in the air, as if suspended, before the silence swallowed it whole.
A sound.
A distant explosion. Then another.
The echoes shattered the stillness, leaving behind cracks that ran through the emptiness like veins.
He blinked—and everything changed.
---
He was six years old.
The ticking of the clock filled the room, steady and sharp, like the countdown to something inevitable.
His mother stood at the sink, scrubbing dishes with tired hands. She turned every so often to smile at him, her face soft but strained.
His father paced nearby, speaking quickly into the phone, his voice low but urgent.
Lassen clutched his toy car, pushing it back and forth over the floor. His father had promised—they would go for ice cream after dinner.
Then the gunshots came.
Sudden. Deafening.
Lassen flinched, dropping his toy as the sound tore through the air.
His father spun toward the door, the phone falling from his hand.
— "Lassen! Get to the bedroom! Now!" his mother screamed.
But his legs wouldn't move.
The door exploded inward.
His father grabbed a knife, but the men were already there.
A gunshot.
Then another.
His father fell.
— "husband!"
His mother screamed, running toward him.
A third shot silenced her.
Lassen stumbled back, hands covering his ears, but the sounds kept echoing inside his skull.
Then came the flashing lights—blue and red cutting through the night.
Chaos erupted again.
And then—nothing.
When the police arrived, Lassen was still there.
Frozen.
---
Voices.
Faint. Distant.
They echoed somewhere, muffled, as if an invisible wall separated him from them.
Lassen first felt pain. A dull, stinging ache in his chest, followed by a crushing weight on his limbs. His eyelids felt heavy, glued shut, and every attempt to open them seemed to drain what little energy he had left.
Then he sensed something else. A smell.
Disinfectant. Metal.
A hospital.
He finally opened his eyes.
The void returned, but his heart raced as if he'd never left that room.
His hands trembled as the memory lingered, sharper than it had ever been before.
— "Why now?" he whispered.
The ground cracked beneath him.
He saw himself again—a helpless child, trapped in fear.
But he wasn't that child anymore.
The white light on the ceiling blinded him for a moment, forcing his pupils to adjust. Everything around him was sterile, clean, silent. The steady beeps of monitors filled the room.
His father's words echoed.
— "You're a pawn until you become a player. And if you're going to play, be the best player."
Lassen clenched his fists.
The weight of his fear fell away, replaced by cold, sharp determination.
His lips curled into a faint smile.
"You forced me to play… Then let's play."
"Master!"
Alex's voice—relief and worry tangled together.
Lassen blinked several times. His mind was still swimming through the fog.
— "Alex…?"
— "Yes, it's me! You're finally awake."
Alex stepped closer, his usually immaculate suit wrinkled and stained with blood. His hands trembled slightly, but his gaze remained sharp and professional.
"What happened…?" Lassen asked, though the pain in his chest and the fragments of memories were already forming a picture.
Alex took a deep breath.
"You were attacked. You lost a lot of blood, but we managed to stabilize you and get you here."
"How long…?"
"Two days."
He closed his eyes for a moment, forcing himself to suppress the anger simmering beneath the surface.
"Report."
Alex blinked, surprised by the sharp, commanding tone. It wasn't the hesitant voice of his master from before.
"The shooter was neutralized, but he killed himself before we could interrogate him. We found traces of military-grade equipment suggesting a likely connection to Geria."
Lassen nodded slowly.
"And security measures?"
"Reinforced. Adrian and his team are on high alert. Elias is already working on an update to the defense systems. But…"
Alex hesitated.
— "But what?"
— "We intercepted communications suggesting that this attempt was only a test. They wanted to evaluate your vulnerability."
A heavy silence fell over the room.
Lassen pushed himself up, ignoring the sharp pain that shot through his body. His eyes, usually calm and detached, burned with cold intensity.
"So they think I'm weak."
Alex swallowed hard.
"They made a mistake."
---
"I tried to stay quiet, even though I have the power to destroy everything. I locked myself away with my books and let the world do as it pleased. But despite that... they still tried to kill me. Why?"
Lassen's voice was calm, but there was an undercurrent of darkness. A storm ready to erupt.
Alex lowered his head, unable to answer.
He was a creation of the system himself and knew his master had only ever used it for amusement. Lassen never intended to interfere with the outside world.
But now...
Alex clenched his fists.
He had seen the reports—fragmented information about orchestrated attacks carried out in the shadows. Suspicious movements, encrypted communications between mercenaries and underground networks. This was no coincidence. Someone had tried to test their defenses.
"They don't know who you are," Alex finally said, his voice low. "But they know someone is pulling the strings. Someone untouchable. And that terrifies them."
Lassen's eyes narrowed.
"Then I'll give them something to be afraid of."
A chill ran down Alex's spine. He knew—everything was about to change.
A great storm was coming.
And the world would never be the same.
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