A Request to the System

Time stopped on a precipice. A tiny sun of utter destruction, the deadly energy crackling in Gein's palm hovered just inches above Katrina. The monster's expression of complete control wavered, giving way for a single, breathtaking instant to the blankness of a machine faced with an intractable conundrum. Gein's entire reasoning, which was based on violence and power, was unable to calculate the question mark that Nicolas's outstretched palm was.

"What is this?" For the first time in a long time, there was a hint of real surprise in Gein's voice as he spoke. "Child, are you giving up? Is it really that simple?

"No," answered Nicolas in a tired but firm voice. "I'm just letting you know that I won't follow your rules."

In the minds of the others, the silent act of defiance was a thunderclap. Hector stared at Nicolas while moaning on the ground from the fire in his fractured arm. He had previously seen this boy's insanity. The logic he had witnessed came from a source more fundamental and pure than the perverted laws of this world. The survival instinct of a hunter might not be as strong as the persistence of a writer.

Hector gritted his teeth against the pain and mumbled, "I believe in him." Forced forward with a burst of will, he extended his good arm like Nicolas had. "He is competent in his field."

Gein's focus was now divided. This attack lacked organization. This was an uprising. An uprising against the fundamental essence of conflict.

Katrina was the last to give in. In her head, two years of survival roared. Fight. Kill or perish. Never put your reliance in others. Her life had been sustained by those mantras. However, same catchphrases had also brought them to this point, on the verge of complete loss. She turned to face Nicolas, this innocent, unyielding, unimaginably brave youngster who had destroyed every barrier she had put up during the last two years. Maybe what she was defending behind the walls was the issue, not the walls themselves.

As a last, furious plea, she muttered to herself, "Damn you, journalist." "I will personally come back to haunt you if this doesn't work." She also held out her hand.

That was the dam-breaking first fracture. The others made their decision once Katrina gave in to this irrational optimism. Bruno fought to sit up, his body a canvas of agony. Maris forced her fear aside. Harmon joined them, nodding silently in agreement. Now, in one silent act, six Zinox, six broken souls, and six distinct agonies came together.

Pazzo's final, frantic theory—the blueprint for Doctor Aris—was starting to take shape. "...only the combined strength of the Zinox can defeat the enemy." Their goal was never to combine their skills. Their goal was to unite their will.

The system reacted immediately. This was a "help request" submitted by the Zinox, the system administrators, not an attack against the Gein infection. Gein's defenses were unable to stop the deed since it was so illogical.

Each Zinox emitted a ray of bright white light from its palm. It wasn't Nicolas's mental echo, Katrina's shadow energy, or Kuvarsoya's earthly might. This was the basic foundation of the game; the unprocessed system code that permeated their universe.

"No." As Gein watched the six rays converge on him, he breathed. This was a corrective energy rather than a destructive one. His entire body trembled. His armor's smooth surface was dotted with pixelation, its texture warping and color fading.

"This isn't possible!" he said, his voice stuttering with electronic noise. "The only absolute is power! Feelings such as trust and weakness are only mistakes!

Like a distorted image on a screen, his body started to phase. The scrolling green lines of code inside his arms and legs turned translucent. He wasn't actually going to die. They were erasing him. The machine itself was doing a factory reset on him.

In his perverse universe, his last words were the height of irony—a whisper. "This violates the rules."

Then Gein vanished in a huge, silent burst of white light.

He left no ash heap or body behind. Just quiet. The stifling, ominous atmosphere that had suffocated the arena disappeared with his presence. The sky's sickening purple clouds dissipated, revealing the soft, light hues of a morning that was not of this world.

Their triumph was devoid of joy. Just a complete, heart-breaking tiredness. One by one, the six Zinox fell to the ground, having used up what little strength remained. For a long time, all they could hear was the murmur of a wind that seemed pure for the first time, and the sound of their own ragged breathing. It was done. It was really over.

At that moment, there was a glimmer of activity at the summit of the surrounding cliffs. The first light of the new day was reflected by hundreds, maybe thousands of gleaming glints. They were surrounded by royal soldiers in hushed, orderly columns who had sealed all the exits.

Out of the soldiers, two guys moved forward. A recognizable, victorious grin was fixed on Lucas's face. The other was the King of the City of Anomaly, dressed in royal armor and exuding a sense of arrogant power.

The Zinox lacked the willpower to fight. Hector was unable to raise his arm to grasp his bow. Katrina was too exhausted to hold her daggers.

The King did not regard them with appreciation or deference. His eyes were as icy as a craftsman's toward tools that had fulfilled their function and were no longer required. He raised his gloved hand slowly and without a word.

Radiating outward from his hand was a surge of golden energy as bright as the sun. It was a quiet, soft, and enticing explosion, not a ferocious one. The six of them experienced no discomfort when the wave swept over them. Just a void. The mystical link to the system, the power coursing through their veins, and the whispering in their brains were all cut off in a split second. Zinox was no longer them. They were simply humans, exhausted, injured, and completely helpless.

The King had vanquished them all in a single motion.

He glanced down at the six still bodies. Lucas was grinning more broadly than before.

The King's voice reverberated throughout the quiet arena as he spoke, "You vanquished a fool who desired to be the god of the game." "I am thankful for that. However, there is one thing you have overlooked.

He stopped, the cold fire of his total control over this unreal world shining in his eyes. He struck the last, fatal blow:

"There is already a king in this game."