Opening the door wider, allowing the cold night air to rush in completely, Zario was once again confronted with the same scene, which, despite its unchangedness, now felt different, as the same people who had previously seemed to be moving in one direction now appeared chaotic, their running devoid of any clear structure, turning into a chaotic, tense movement.
His gaze, focused and sharp, slid towards the direction from which this strange, soundless movement was coming, but despite his attempt to focus, he could only discern a dense mass of human silhouettes merging into a single, indistinguishable picture, behind which something was hidden that remained beyond his current perception.
And it was annoying.
Not the unknown itself, but the impossibility of seeing it.
Because in his past life, where his senses were beyond normal human comprehension, he was able to detect the slightest movements at a distance of thousands of meters, distinguish shapes in absolute darkness, record even the slightest vibrations of space, but now, being in this body, his vision, deprived of its former sharpness, was perceived as something curtailed, as if there was an invisible barrier between him and the world.
It was as if his lenses had been taken away.
The thought, simple in its essence, but precise in its sensation, instantly took hold in his consciousness, intensifying the internal irritation, which, however, did not turn into emotion, but was merely recorded as a fact requiring a solution.
He still didn't fully understand the limits of his current capabilities, didn't know how deeply his previous powers were sealed, and which of them could even be restored, but this did not stop him, since the situation itself unfolding before him already demanded action.
Because people don't run without a reason.
And if this entire crowd, devoid of sound but filled with tension, was moving in one direction, then there was something behind it that was either pursuing them or attracting them.
And Zario, without taking his eyes off this scene, had already decided to find out what exactly they were running from... and where.
***
Then Zario, finally casting aside the need to remain within the confines of this dilapidated shelter, stepped forward, leaving his modest starting point, and, without losing his inner concentration, joined the flow of people moving in the same direction, since, not knowing the reason for their flight, he instinctively chose the least risky option, following the mass, because the most dangerous enemy for him was always the one about whom absolutely nothing was known.
He moved at a steady, controlled pace, neither speeding up nor slowing down, but each of his movements was accompanied by a strange, unfamiliar feeling of emptiness, because the lack of hearing, to which he still could not adapt, distorted the very perception of reality, depriving it of depth and fullness, turning the surrounding world into a soundless picture, cut off from familiar sensations.
His entire life, built on absolute sensitivity to the smallest details, on the ability to grasp what was inaccessible to others, now seemed cut off, as if one of the fundamental pillars of his existence had been torn out without warning, leaving in its wake only a dull, unfamiliar silence.
"What a hassle..." the thought that flashed through his mind did not carry any complaint, but only a dry recording of the inconvenience, which he was already beginning to perceive as temporary.
And it was at this moment, when his attention was focused on adapting to the new conditions, that among the stream of people his gaze caught something that stood out from the general picture, three figures whose presence immediately stood out from the rest.
They didn't look like ordinary people.
Their bodies were clad in archaic armor, covered in patterns darkened by time or use, and in their hands they held weapons - swords and spears, whose shapes left no doubt as to their purpose, and their movements were different from the rest, being more coordinated, more deliberate.
There were three of them, and despite their outward restraint, their movements showed a coordination that had been developed over many battles, for as soon as their gazes met with Zario, in that brief, almost imperceptible contact a decision had already been formed, after which they glanced at each other, exchanging silent signals, and in that same second, without giving him time to react or room to retreat, they suddenly took off from their place, heading straight for him.
"Hey... what the hell..." The thought that flashed through Zario's mind wasn't accompanied by fear or panic, but was filled with a sharp, cold incomprehension, since what was happening didn't fit into any of the logical models he had managed to construct in such a short time.
He didn't know who they were.
He didn't understand why he became their target.
And yet, even without this information, his perception, however weakened, unmistakably recorded the main thing, since in their movements, in the way they closed the distance, in the way their weapons had already taken up attacking positions, there was not the slightest doubt.
They were hostile.
***
Zario, having already suppressed them without any unnecessary noise or effort, calmly sat on top, holding the three pinned to the ground, where two of them turned out to be girls, and the third was a young man with an unexpectedly soft, almost innocent expression on his face, which, however, did not fit in with the fact that just a moment ago they had rushed at him without hesitation with the clear intent to kill.
"Why did you want to kill me… answer, or I'll kill you…" His voice, cold and devoid of unnecessary emotion, sounded like a direct statement of a possible outcome, and not like a threat, leaving no room for bargaining or justification.
By this point, the stream of people that had previously filled the streets had completely disappeared, vanishing somewhere deep into the village or beyond, leaving behind only an oppressive, almost unnatural silence, in which empty houses and abandoned passages created the feeling of a place suddenly abandoned, but still bearing traces of recent movement.
And it was in this silence that Zario noticed how one of them, the same guy with the innocent face, began to say something, his lips moving quickly, almost hastily, and his facial expression changing, as if he was trying to explain something, to convey a meaning, perhaps even to justify himself.
But there was no sound.
Fully.
And this instantly cut off any possibility of understanding what was happening through ordinary perception.
Zario, frowning slightly, had already realized the futility of such an attempt at communication, and then, without changing his position but increasing the pressure, he spoke, directing his words more by inertia than from the hope of understanding.
— Is there a piece of paper here you can write on… I can't hear you…
His words, having failed to reach their target, remained only a movement of the lips, not backed up by a sound for those beneath him, and therefore their reaction was predictable, but no less irritating.
They exchanged glances.
Again.
But now, no longer with the intention of attacking, but with obvious incomprehension, their gazes darted between each other and Zario, trying to grasp the meaning of what was happening, after which they barely noticeably shook their heads, making it clear that they did not understand either him or his demands.
"Ah... I have to do it all by myself, then..." The thought that arose in his mind sounded with a hint of irritation, but was already accompanied by a cold acceptance, since the situation in which communication turned out to be impossible automatically translated everything into a much simpler, but less pleasant format for them.
Zario, rising from their bodies, was about to finish what he had started, his intention was cold and direct, but at the last moment, when the decision was almost formed into action, he stopped, because the thought that arose in the depths of his mind turned out to be much more practical than the usual impulse to destroy, reminding him that in this new reality, every unit of resource can matter.
In his past life, such a situation would have ended instantly, without hesitation or any attempt to profit from it, since anyone who raised a hand against him would automatically lose their right to exist. However, now, being inside a system whose rules were not yet fully understood, he could no longer afford to act so bluntly.
He straightened up, his gaze deepening, as if at that moment he had finally accepted a new pattern of behavior, after which, without turning around, he turned to Lunari, knowing in advance that she would appear.
— Lunari... do they see you?..
The snow-white sparks that flared in the air quickly gathered into a familiar shape, and Lunari, appearing without delay, gave her answer with the same precision as always.
[A player's personal assistant can only be seen by the player themselves.]
"I see…" the thought took hold instantly, taking its place in his strategy, since it meant that interaction with the outside world would have to be structured differently.
He turned his gaze to the three still standing in front of him, their state tense, their movements cautious, and their gazes wary, as they already understood that this was no ordinary person in front of them.
"Hey… you… take me to your king…" His words, despite the complete lack of sound for them, were accompanied by a confident movement of his lips and a look in which there was no request, but only a demand.
They looked at each other again. Lying down.
Then, slowly rising, shaking the dust off themselves, they began to say something, their lips moved, their facial expressions changed, but the meaning remained completely inaccessible to him, turning any attempt at communication into a meaningless gesture.
"Oh, damn... I don't understand you..." Irritation, though weak, still cut through his cold control, "maybe I should kill you after all... I have enough physical strength as it is..."
The three of them, barely noticing the change in his gaze and feeling the growing pressure, stepped back, their movements became cautious, but at the same time tense, as if every muscle was ready to break into flight, and the fear, read in their postures and looks, no longer tried to hide, manifesting itself openly and clearly.
However, Zario, observing this, did not take a single step forward, since his intentions had already gone beyond simple suppression or murder, and in the depths of his mind, coldly and calculatingly, another plan began to take shape, in which these three ceased to be a target and turned into a tool.