All conversations ceased as the lords sized each other up, suspicion thick in the air. Amid the tense silence, Trix’s laughter echoed through the hall once more.

“There’s no need to get so worked up,” the examiner began, its tone dripping with amusement. “I was only joking… or was I?”

Trix’s emoji flickered between a cunning smirk and a laughing face. The lords focused on the examiner, unable to discern its true intentions. Yet their patience, already thin, began to fray.

“Is this some kind of joke to you?” a disgruntled lord demanded, barely keeping their composure.

Trix’s emoji shifted again, the grin growing more mischievous. “Life has always—and will always—be a joke,” it giggled. “You just have to have fun and play it however you see fit.”

With a sharp clap of its hands, the lights in the room brightened, and the orb at the center dulled in luster. “Take your seats, everyone,” Trix urged with an almost too-cheerful grin. “There’s no point in worrying about what’s beyond your control. Now that we’ve covered all the major agendas for this conference, the floor is officially open for questions.”

As Trix’s voice echoed, the previously motionless examiners stirred. They stepped forward in unison, aligning themselves alongside Trix. The mischievous voice came again.

“For the newcomers, here’s how it works: you’re free to ask any examiner whatever questions you might have regarding the agendas discussed today. Your questions—and their answers—will remain private. However, refrain from asking anything outside the scope of this conference. We reserve the right to decline any inquiries that exceed your authority. Keep that in mind.”

Trix’s emoji changed to one of excitement. “With that said, let’s begin.”

The hall dimmed once more as light pulsed from the silver orb, thin tendrils of energy snaking outward to attach themselves to each participant, bypassing any resistance.

Most lords remained impassive, but a few betrayed their displeasure, their irritation etched plainly on their faces. For the first time, an eerie silence blanketed the room.

----------------------------------------

Scott’s fingers drummed softly on the armrests of his seat as he studied the examiners on the dais. His gaze lingered on the orb, unease flickering in his mind.

What kind of artifact is that? Even if my authority wasn’t restricted, I doubt I could have evaded its light. His eyes darted to the lords seated on either side of him.

Meelat’s lips moved faintly, as though speaking to someone unseen. Scott noticed the same subtle movements among several other lords. They were already conversing with the examiners.

Turning his attention back to the dais, Scott’s focus settled on Trix. The examiner’s screen displayed a serene tropical beach, utterly unaffected by Scott’s scrutiny. Yet, a nagging feeling gnawed at him.

It knows who I am, Scott mused, his thoughts racing. There’s no way it doesn’t know I’m the one the gods are after. So why do I feel like it’s holding back? Could the administrator and the gods be at odds?

The possibility struck a chord, unsettling yet oddly plausible.

“You’re going to burn a hole through my screen with that stare,” Trix’s voice suddenly echoed in Scott’s mind.

Scott’s brow furrowed slightly, though he gave no other outward reaction. He kept his gaze trained on the examiner’s screen, which remained unchanged.

“Oh? No reaction? I was hoping for something more dramatic,” Trix teased, its disappointment palpable.

“What do you want?” Scott’s voice was sharp but quiet, his lips barely moving. “Are examiners even allowed to initiate contact with lords?”

Trix’s snigger filled his ears. “Why wouldn’t we?” it countered. “Who said the Q&A session was only for lords to ask questions?”

Scott’s fingers stilled on the armrest, his eyes narrowing. There’s no way this asshole contacted me for no reason.

“I’m not interested in playing your games,” Scott replied flatly, shifting his gaze away.

“Don’t be like that,” Trix said, a giggle punctuating its words. “We’re allied to the same throne… or at least, I used to be.”

Scott’s head snapped back toward the examiner, his thoughts spinning. No way. It couldn’t be… right?

Fighting the rising tide of curiosity, he asked, “What do you mean?”

Trix’s voice brimmed with excitement. “What’s there to explain?” it said, almost mockingly. “I was once a candidate for the throne, just like you. Is that so hard to comprehend?”

Scott’s brows arched as he processed the revelation. This has to be a trick—or some kind of trap, right?

Before he could formulate a response, Trix’s voice echoed again, effortlessly picking up where it had left off.

“It’s so strange talking to Arkhontis’—”

“Who?” Scott cut in sharply, his frown deepening. Why does that name feel familiar? His mind churned, grappling with the eerie sense of recognition despite hearing the name for the first time.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

Trix erupted into laughter, its giggles spiraling into full-blown cackles. “I can’t believe this…” It paused, only to laugh even harder, almost hysterical.

For the first time in what felt like forever, the examiner’s screen flickered to life. A cascade of laughing emojis spilled across it in quick succession before Trix continued, “But I can’t say I’m surprised. It’s just like Arkhontis—not telling his own incarnation his name.”

Scott’s expression darkened as silence settled between them. Could that be the name of the former Mad God? The more he considered it, the more certain he became. It was the only explanation for the inexplicable sense of familiarity.

“You knew the former Mad God?” Scott finally broke his silence, his voice edged with both curiosity and caution.

The emojis vanished, replaced by a single, smug smile. “Knew is putting it mildly,” Trix said, its voice almost teasing. “If things had gone a little differently, I might’ve been the Mad God.”

The screen shifted again, the emoji now a grinning face. “I’m kidding, of course,” Trix chuckled abruptly. “Arkhontis and those other monsters from the 2nd, 3rd, and 5th Orders were leagues above me. Even if I were a thousand times stronger than I am now, they would have crushed me without breaking a sweat.”

It broke into more laughter, wild and unhinged.

Scott remained tense, his frown deepening as the weight of Trix’s words settled in. He didn’t know exactly how powerful Trix was, but becoming an examiner wasn’t a feat achieved by weaklings. Just how monstrous were the candidates back then? His thoughts wandered, lingering on the current generation of contenders.

Are there any among the other seventeen Orders capable of matching the legends of the past? He couldn’t answer. His encounters during the inheritance ceremony offered only glimpses—fractured remnants of their wills. Estimating their true strength was impossible.

His musings were interrupted by Trix’s voice, laced with an unmistakable bitterness.

“It’s been so long since I was severed from the throne, I don’t even remember what it feels like to wield the Authority of Madness. I miss it.”

Scott stiffened, detecting the wistful yearning beneath the statement. “How are you still alive?” he asked abruptly. No matter how he looked at it, if Trix had been a candidate, it should have perished long ago. After all, Arkhontis had claimed the mantle of Mad God.

Trix let out a hollow laugh. “Now, that’s a dangerous question,” it said, voice dropping into a conspiratorial tone. “As much as I’d love to tell you, it’s better for your safety if I don’t. Let’s just say the Administrator saw potential in me and granted me clemency.”

Scott’s brows knit together, but he didn’t press further.

“Why reveal yourself to me?” he asked instead, his voice calm but probing. He harbored no illusions that Trix acted on impulse or good intentions. There had to be more at play—something he hadn’t yet uncovered.

Trix’s laughter returned, soft and unsettling. “The way you use your authority… it reminded me of old times,” it admitted, almost fondly. “You and Arkhontis couldn’t be more different, and that’s what excites me. This generation might not endure the same chaos, but then again, you could be even worse…”

It paused, its emoji transforming into a radiant sun. “Even I, a former candidate, can’t fully comprehend your authority. When it’s active, it’s as though reality twists into illusions, and illusions become reality. Maddeningly brilliant.”

Scott’s expression remained unreadable, his silence urging Trix to continue.

Trix obliged, though its tone shifted, carrying a subtle edge. “Aren’t you curious why I didn’t reveal your identity?”

“Not at all,” Scott replied flatly. “I know what I need to do. Nothing changes for me.”

The screen displayed a grinning emoji again. “Confident, aren’t we? Cocky, even. I see you share a streak with your predecessor,” Trix said, its voice brimming with amusement. “For your sake, I hope that’s where the similarities end.”

The screen flickered once more, now displaying an intricate, unfamiliar sigil.

Scott’s eyes narrowed as he studied it. What the hell is this supposed to mean?

Before he could dwell further, a voice filled his mind—ancient and chilling, brimming with malice and bloodlust.

“Since you do not desire it, I will refrain from speaking,” it declared, its tone heavy with finality. “But I do have a message for you. One that must be delivered.”

Scott’s gaze hardened. “Who is the sender, and what does the message say?” he asked, his voice calm but commanding.

A distinct chime resonated in Scott’s mind, and a new voice emerged—smooth, warm, and laced with an almost regal elegance.

“I sincerely applaud you for reaching this far in your journey,” it began. “The Tower of Champions has stagnated for eons, festering in the rot left behind by the gods and their ilk. Change is overdue—a change that will shake the tower’s very foundation. You, my friend, are the harbinger of that change.”

The voice paused, its tone growing firmer.

“Our existence must remain hidden, but rest assured, we will see you to the Point of No Return. You are the key to sparking the war necessary to usher in a new era—an era where the mantle of gods will no longer be reserved for a select few.”

A quiet intensity rippled through the message as the voice continued, “Fret not, our forces are deeply entrenched within the Endless Bridge. You need not know them, but they are prepared to lay down their lives to halt the gods' forces when the invasion begins. Your focus should remain on reaching the Point of No Return.”

The voice softened, almost reverent. “We wish you well on a journey fraught with unprecedented dangers.”

As the final words faded, so too did the sigil on Trix’s screen, vanishing as though it had never existed.

Trix’s voice returned, tinged with a wry amusement. “I hope I don’t need to remind you that the contents of this message must remain strictly confidential.”

Scott remained silent; his expression unreadable. Inside, however, his thoughts churned darkly. The only reason they’re pulling this crap is because they don’t see me as a threat. His fists clenched as the realization sank in. They think I’m just a tool—something to be used and discarded once their goals are met.

“So, moving on,” Trix chirped, its excitement barely contained. “You’ve got another message!”

Scott’s frown deepened. Another one? he thought grimly. “From whom?” he asked aloud.

A grinning emoji appeared on Trix’s screen. “The lesser god of Illusions,” it declared with a hint of drama.

Scott’s expression stirred, memories from his early days in the tower flashing through his mind. He vividly recalled the eccentric deity’s interest in him back then, though their connection had all but vanished since the council declared him wanted. He hadn’t expected the lesser god of Illusions to reach out ever again.

“What does the message say?” Scott asked after a brief pause, his voice steady.

“Survive and show them hell,” Trix declared gleefully, its words dripping with enthusiasm.

Scott’s features relaxed, though a flicker of uncertainty lingered beneath the surface. He still wasn’t sure what to make of these cryptic messages.

“And now, for the third message!” Trix announced suddenly, its tone brimming with mischief.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Scott muttered, his voice sharpening. “There’s another one?”

Trix’s screen lit up with a laughing emoji as its giggles erupted, flooding Scott’s ears. “Actually, no,” it admitted, struggling to contain its laughter. “I just wanted to see how you’d react!”

The screen flashed a cascade of troll emojis, each one more taunting than the last, as Trix continued to laugh uncontrollably.

Scott, however, remained perfectly still, his gaze cold and unrelenting, brimming with an almost tangible bloodlust as he watched the jester laugh with wanton abandon.