All discussions in the hall ceased as every gaze shifted toward the examiner who had stepped forward. However, instead of speaking further, the examiner retreated silently, replaced by another.
Scott’s brows creased as he observed the new figure. This examiner was unlike any he had encountered before—its head was a glistening digital screen, reminiscent of an old television. A glowing emoji depicting a curious face flickered across the display, and when the examiner finally spoke, its voice carried a distinct, computerized timbre.
“Hello, everyone. It sure is nice to see you all again,” the examiner began, the emoji shifting to one with a wide grin. “I’m glad to see that we have a lot of new faces here today.”
As if on cue, spotlights swept across the room, illuminating Scott and several other champions in attendance for the first time.
Scott’s frown deepened as the beam landed on him. He disliked the attention, but unsurprisingly, the same light bathed Meelat and others seated in his section. He glanced toward the lords seated closer to the dais and noticed that only a handful of newcomers occupied the higher ranks.
“On behalf of the examiners’ committee, I sincerely welcome all new invitees to the conference,” the examiner declared, its screen shifting to an emoji with a beaming grin. “My name is Trix, and I will be the host of this conference.”
The emoji shifted again, now displaying a serious expression as Trix continued, “Before we proceed, it’s important to familiarize our new participants with the rules governing the conference.”
Almost immediately, a system notification materialized before Scott’s eyes.
Rules Governing the Conference Between Lords! Combat, in whatever shape or form, is strictly prohibited before and during the conference. Territorial Lords possessing authority to a particular throne are forbidden from using them within the conference room. Attacking, murdering, or injuring examiners in charge of the conference is strictly forbidden. Territorial Lords are expressly forbidden from divulging the true nature of the conference to those who haven’t been invited. Leeway is given to lords who failed to attend for valid reasons, but even then, information shared must be limited. All decisions made during the conference are binding.
Failure to adhere to the rules could result in the stripping of one’s title or immediate death, depending on the severity of the infraction!
Scott read through the rules carefully, his gaze lingering on the second point.
I had a hunch my authority was being suppressed, Scott thought. This explains why I’ve felt subdued since arriving here.
He reread the list twice, committing it to memory before dismissing the notification. His attention returned to Trix, whose digital face now flickered between curiosity and apprehension.
“I hope you all endeavor to uphold these rules,” Trix said, the emoji on its face shifting to a grin. “With that said, let’s officially begin the conference!”
The lights in the hall dimmed as the pulsating orb above the dais unleashed an ethereal glow that barely illuminated the space.
“The topic of this conference, once again,” Trix announced, “centers on the nature of the competition.”
Scott’s expression hardened, his focus narrowing on the examiner. He immediately recognized the reference: it was the same competition that Toi had mentioned, the one determining who would claim The Unclaimed Thrones.
Trix seemed to bask in the attention of the gathered lords, its emoji shifting to one of excitement. “For those attending for the first time, it’s paramount that you understand the true nature of the competition. As some of you may know, the competition can only begin when over 90% of the unclaimed territories on the Endless Bridge are claimed by a lord. Only then will the competition officially commence.
“However,” Trix continued, its voice filled with excitement, “it’s important to understand this: while you all share the title of Territorial Lord, you are not equal.”
Murmurs erupted among the lords seated farther from the dais—newcomers and lower-ranked lords who, like Scott, were attending the conference for the first time.
Scott’s frown deepened. What does it mean by ‘not equal’? he wondered. Instinctively, his thoughts turned to the ranking system, and an unsettling realization dawned on him. Could it be that only those within a particular ranking tier will participate in the competition?
The notion contradicted Toi’s explanation, but Scott wasn’t surprised. The examiner’s laid-back demeanor made it likely he had glossed over key details.
“This is getting too complicated for me,” Meelat muttered softly beside him.
Scott turned toward her, his expression softening slightly. She looked genuinely overwhelmed, her brow furrowed in frustration as she tried to process the conversation.
She really reminds me of those cute, clueless drunks, Scott thought, a wry smile tugging at his lips.
“I’m sure your alliance members will fill you in later,” Scott said, his voice low. After a brief pause, he added, “Better still, I can explain when I visit your territory.”
Meelat’s eyes widened, her expression brightening. “You’d do that for me?” she asked, her tone brimming with surprise and excitement.
Scott nodded, his smile faint.
Meelat’s grin widened, her excitement undimmed. “Thank you so much! I promise to treat you to the best wine in the entire lounge,” she said eagerly.
“I’ll be looking forward to it,” Scott replied, his smile polite but measured.
Before Meelat could respond further, Trix drew their attention back.
“Some of you might be curious about what I meant earlier,” Trix began, his emoji shifting into one of exaggerated thoughtfulness. “But the truth is, for anyone here to rise high enough to claim the glorious authority left by the Administrator, you’ll need to prove yourselves worthy.”
The audience listened intently, their expressions ranging from cautious optimism to outright skepticism.
“With that in mind, only those bearing the title of Apex Champion will be qualified to participate in the competition—”
“But that’s not what I heard!” a massive troll interrupted, his booming voice resonating across the hall. He stood, his hulking form towering over the seated champions. “My examiner told me the competition was open to all lords. Are you saying they lied?”
Stolen novel; please report.
A ripple of agreement spread through the room, particularly among the first-time attendees, who bristled at the conflicting information.
Trix’s emoji shifted again—now displaying wide eyes of mock confusion. “No one lied,” it said, its tone almost placating. “Everyone attending the conferences—yes, even those in The Challenger League and The Initiate Class—can technically participate in the competition.”
The troll’s eyes narrowed, as did those of several others.
Trix raised a hand, cutting off further objections. “The only catch,” it continued, “is that you’ll need to rise from your current ranks. It’s that simple.” He paused, his emoji shifting to one of restrained laughter, the eyes sneaking playful glances at the audience. “Or maybe ‘simple’ isn’t the right word, but you get the gist.”
Soft murmurs and whispers filled the hall. Though Trix’s words had defused some tension, the champions were far from satisfied.
“Look,” Trix added, its tone shifting to a mock-conspiratorial whisper, “if you weren’t a territorial lord, you wouldn’t even know about the competition. So, trust me—there’s plenty of time for all of you to rise. The game isn’t over yet.”
The murmuring subsided, replaced by an uneasy silence. Scott, like many others, remained stoic, his thoughts focused on what Trix had said.
The ‘only’ catch? Scott mused. So much for keeping things straightforward.
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Satisfied with the relative calm, Trix clapped his hands together, his emoji now radiating delight. “Now that that’s settled, let’s move on to the second agenda of this conference.”
Total silence fell across the room. Even the champions who had seemed restless moments ago leaned forward slightly, their attention sharpened.
“Let’s talk about alliances,” Trix declared, tapping the silver orb on the dais. Instantly, dozens of names floated into the air, glowing faintly as they arranged themselves in a massive, scrolling list.
Scott narrowed his gaze, scanning the list. There were over a hundred names, but only two stood out to him.
Is that a list of all recognized alliances?
His eyes flicked to Meelat, who sat beaming with pride, her expression alight as she spotted Throdan Alliance on the list. Turning back to the floating names, Scott’s gaze froze on the eighty-ninth entry: 18th Order of the Mad Throne.
When did I create an alliance? Scott thought, his brows creasing.
Trix, basking in the attention, continued. “This topic was raised during the last conference, and I’m thrilled to say we now have an official answer on how alliances will be treated during the competition.”
The champions leaned in; their focus unwavering.
Trix gestured toward the list, its emoji shifting into a broad, confident smile. “These are the currently recognized alliances. And here’s the big news: during the competition, only the leaders of these alliances will be allowed to participate—assuming, of course, they meet the ranking requirements.”
The hall erupted into murmurs, frustration rippling through the room like a palpable wave.
“To clarify,” Trix continued, raising its voice slightly, “if multiple members of an alliance reach the rank of Apex Champion, only the leader will be eligible to compete. Everyone else? Well, you’ll have to watch from the sidelines.”
Scott glanced around the room, observing the various reactions. Many champions, particularly those with aspirations of their own, looked visibly angry or disheartened. Even those who stayed silent seemed tense, their gazes hard and calculating.
I can understand their frustration, Scott thought. No one here lacks ambition. Telling them they can’t climb higher because of this restriction… It’s like shackling a starving predator.
He turned his attention back to Trix, who was still smiling despite the charged atmosphere.
----------------------------------------
“Everyone, please quiet down,” Trix said, its emoji switching to one of mild concern. “I understand your reservations, but unfortunately, this decision is final.”
The declaration only deepened the tension in the room, but no one spoke up.
Trix’s tone softened slightly, its emoji shifting to a friendlier one. “What this means, however, is that you all—assuming you’re not the leaders of your respective alliances—will be able to negotiate proper benefits with your leaders. Think of it as an opportunity to secure your position within the alliance.”
The murmurs gradually faded as the champions redirected their attention toward Trix.
“I can’t speak for my colleagues,” Trix began, its animated voice carrying an unsettling mix of charm and cunning, “but I know that if I were in your shoes, I would negotiate the best deal possible for myself. After all, setting aside one’s ambition is worth something, wouldn’t you say?”
The examiner’s rhetorical question lingered in the air, subtle yet deliberately provocative. Scott’s gaze swept the room, observing how the statement stirred the features of several territorial lords. Some shifted uncomfortably, while others exchanged glances.
Scott’s lips curved into a faint smile as he leaned casually on the side of his chair. As expected of an examiner—cunning and manipulative. It phrased it like a harmless suggestion, but it’s bound to sow discord among the factions.
Absorbed in his thoughts, Scott’s attention flicked to Meelat, seated to his side. She was nibbling on dried rations with one hand while sipping from a modified cup fitted with a straw in the other.
Scott shook his head slightly, bemused. Gruffpaws—regardless of how far they evolve—are just too carefree and simple.
Meelat caught his gaze, her cheeks flushing slightly as she smiled bashfully. She held up the packet of dried rations, offering to share. Scott declined with a slight wave of his hand and turned his attention back to Trix.
Scott’s relaxed demeanor vanished in an instant. His brows furrowed as he noticed the emoji on Trix’s screen had changed again—this time to a pair of watchful eyes, unsettlingly simple yet unnervingly direct.
Is he staring at me? The thought prickled at Scott’s mind. Am I being paranoid, or is this deliberate?
Before he could dwell on it further, the emoji shifted once more, now a benign smile, as Trix resumed speaking.
“I know many of you have questions,” Trix said, raising a hand to preemptively quell any interruptions, “but please save them for the Q&A segment after the third agenda. For now, let’s proceed to the final agenda of this conference.”
A hush fell over the room as Trix’s words resonated, its tone deliberately drawing everyone’s attention. “I have a feeling this will be the most exciting part for all of you.”
Trix paused for dramatic effect, reveling in the growing tension. All eyes turned to the examiner, the collective anticipation in the room palpable. But instead of continuing, the examiner tapped on the glowing orb, causing the long list of names displayed in the air to vanish.
With another tap, the orb pulsed with a golden radiance, its light casting shifting patterns across the conference room.
Scott’s features darkened. While the rest of the room buzzed with curiosity, a somber expression crossed his face. If he’d only been suspicious before, he was now certain—Trix was watching him. The only question that remained was: why?
Trix’s voice, now unnaturally human in its tone, cut through the silence.
“The final agenda for this conference—the very reason this meeting was convened in the first place—centers on every single one of you.”
Another pause.
Scott’s unease deepened. The golden light emanating from the orb seemed to pulse in tandem with his racing thoughts. What is he leading up to?
“The gods have made an offer to the Administrator,” Trix finally revealed, his voice carrying a weight that silenced even the quiet murmurs in the room. “And the Administrator, in turn, has extended that offer to you—all of you—the current custodians of the authority of the Endless Bridge.”
A murmur swept through the room, but before it could build, a booming voice from a giant territorial lord interrupted.
“Can you stop with the dramatic pauses and just get on with it?”
Trix’s emoji face shifted to a crying face, and it coughed awkwardly. “Alright, alright, I hear you. I’ll skip the theatrics,” it said, though its smirk returned as it tapped the orb again.
The light dimmed slightly as Trix continued, its tone now sharper, more serious.
“As many of you know, the gods have long issued a decree regarding certain champions,” Trix explained. “It’s the reason many of you find yourselves on the Endless Bridge. To cut the long story short, the gods and their sanctuaries believe that their fugitives are hiding here—on the Endless Bridge.”
The room tensed as Trix’s words sank in.
“They’ve sought permission from the Administrator to send their forces to invade, with the goal of obliterating the fugitives once and for all.”
Scott’s expression grew colder, his eyes narrowing at Trix.
Trix tapped the orb once more, and images of celestial armies flickered above it—divine champions clad in radiant armor, mythical beasts, and titanic beings wielding overwhelming power.
“Of course, the Administrator has... refused to grant them unfettered access to the Endless Bridge.” Trix’s emoji face now displayed a sly wink. “Instead, that responsibility has been passed to you—the lords of the Endless Bridge.”
A chilling silence settled over the room. Even the most ambitious lords seemed shaken by the implications.
“With that said,” Trix continued, relishing the tension, “a vote will soon take place across all ranking tiers—a decision on whether to grant the gods permission to bring their forces here.”
Scott leaned back in his chair; his features unreadable as his mind raced. These bastards are moving faster than I anticipated. This is going to be a problem.
“Your votes will shape the fate of the Endless Bridge,” Trix concluded, its tone light but its words heavy with implication.