Then Lunari, without the slightest hesitation, as if the very concept of time had no meaning to her, began to fulfill the request, and the space before Zario was once again filled with a soft, yet blinding glow of snow-white sparks, which, having gathered into a single plane, formed before him that very sheet, the surface of which looked simultaneously material and inaccessible.
Words began to appear on this surface.
Not gradually, not in jerks, but smoothly, as if they were not written, but extracted from the very structure of reality, and the handwriting in which they were written possessed impeccable purity, ideal symmetry and such a refined beauty that it seemed as if the deities themselves, standing behind this process, left the imprint of their will on the paper.
Yet this is not what attracted Zario's greatest attention.
Language.
The words that formed the rules were written in a language he knew.
In the language created in his empire.
In a language that shouldn't exist here.
His gaze deepened, became more intense, because this coincidence could not be accidental, and even if he did not have all the information, his mind was already beginning to build a chain of possible connections in which his past and current situation were intertwined much more closely than it seemed at first glance.
"Is this… somehow connected?" the thought, which escaped almost silently, was not directed at anyone in particular, but already contained the beginnings of suspicion.
Meanwhile, the lines completed their formation.
And, as if recording the end of the recording, the surface trembled slightly, after which Lunari, remaining in her previous position, began her explanation; her voice, as before, arose directly in Zario's consciousness, devoid of unnecessary intonations, but perfectly structured, as if each phrase was calculated for maximum clarity.
The explanation began. It was quite forgiving. But no less significant for that.
***
[Rules of the Death Festival
1. Each player receives a starting point in different parts of the world, and the distances between them can reach thousands and millions of kilometers, and the world itself has no fixed boundaries and continues to expand.
2. There are only five players, but the world is scattered with countless creatures, factions, and anomalies that can either help or destroy the player.
3. The main goal is to survive and eliminate the other players, with only one player completing the Festival becoming the winner.
4. Each player receives a unique ability (or "Signature") that develops as they play the game, but is initially very limited.
5. The Paper system serves as the player's interface, providing information, tasks, updates, and access to basic functions, including summoning a Personal Assistant.
6. For kills, completing tasks, and interacting with the world, the player receives "Festival Points," which can be spent on developing abilities, the body, or resources.
7. The world reacts to players by increasing threats and creating events if the player becomes more powerful too quickly.
8. Death in the Festival is final, and no powers, including divine ones, guarantee a return after defeat.
9. Players can cooperate temporarily, but any alliances are unstable and not protected by the system.
10. The festival ends only when there is only one player left, or when a hidden condition, unknown to the participants, is met.]
***
Zario, slowly lowering his gaze from the surface of Paper, where the lines of rules had recently been recorded, had already managed to construct in his mind a general picture of what was happening, where every detail, every formulation, despite its apparent simplicity, formed a single, cruel system that left no room for any doubts or illusions regarding his main goal.
However, much more powerfully than the very essence of the game, he was captivated by another sensation, permeating him from within - the very fact that all this, so absurd, so large-scale and going beyond any laws known to him, was happening to him, igniting inside him a long-forgotten, but painfully familiar feeling, bordering on excitement and thirst.
"Well, well..." his voice, quiet but filled with inner tension, slowly cut through the musty air of the room, "Lunari, tell me... other than these descriptions of the game, are there any rules that cannot be broken under any circumstances?"
The answer came instantly, without pause, without hesitation, as if it had already been formed long before the question itself.
[No! The rules provided are the only source that governs the game.]
And at that moment, when the last doubts, if they had ever existed, had finally dissipated, the picture in his mind became complete, clear, cold and utterly distinct, leaving no room for double interpretation.
His lips slowly stretched.
At first it was barely noticeable, almost unnoticeable to an outside observer, but then it grew wider, more and more open, until it turned into a smile that contained neither joy nor relief, but only a return to something that had never truly disappeared.
And then…
Laughter.
At first, it was quiet, restrained, as if testing the boundaries of a new body, but the next second it burst out, growing, filling the entire space of the room, reflecting off the cracked walls, intensifying, becoming louder, sharper, more insane, until it turned into something more than just a sound.
"I'll kill everyone who stands in my way..." the words broke through the laughter, heavy, filled with a confidence that required no proof, "every single one... and when I win this damn Festival... I'll see what awaits me at the end..."
His voice was not directed only at Lunari.
And it was not addressed only to itself.
It sounded like a statement thrown at the system itself, at the game itself, at reality itself, which had decided to give him a second chance, without understanding who exactly it was bringing back.
And somewhere deep inside, where even death could not erase his essence, something responded.
Quiet.
But it's clear enough.