"Alright… I'm too bored now."
The voice of John Pmurt Dlanod echoed through the chamber one final time, still carrying the same lazy arrogance that made it unclear whether he had been speaking to the chosen participants, to the Capital audience, or simply to himself.
He shifted slightly on the floating golden platform, eyes half-open, one hand lazily circling the rim of the glass still resting in his fingers.
"I hope the next game is more entertaining."
Those were the final words the chosen heard before everything moved again.
No explanation followed, nor any warning.
The moment the King's platform withdrew and disappeared beyond the closing walls, attendants and drones immediately entered the Lounge. The surviving forty-one participants were separated without ceremony and directed once more toward the transport section.
The pods waited again.
Smooth oval chambers, identical to the previous ones, lined in long rows beneath white light.
This time no one asked questions.
