The beach was artificial.
Pale sand, perfectly smooth, stretched in a wide arc at the foot of a colossal mass suspended above the water: a mothership, vast as a floating fortress. Its dark hull absorbed the ambient light, while lines of Shinsoo ran slowly along its structure, pulsing at regular intervals—like a deep, steady breath.
It was a place of transit.
A place of waiting.
The kind of place where you liked to observe men before deciding their fate.
On the beach, several figures stood scattered—some seated, others standing—all different, yet bound by something invisible.
An attentive observer would have understood immediately:
these were no ordinary travelers.
⸻
"…Honestly, I was expecting something more spectacular."
The voice came from a tall man, casually leaning against a spear planted in the sand.
His light hair was swept by the sea breeze, and the familiar smile that defined him played on his lips.
Khun Eduan spoke as if all of this were nothing more than a game.
A little farther away, seated directly on the sand, a man with long, pale hair kept his eyes closed, his sword resting in front of him. His posture was straight, motionless, as though the world around him simply did not exist.
He did not open his eyes when he replied.
"The Tower has never needed scenery to be dangerous."
The voice was calm.
Sharp.
It was Arie Hon.
Khun Eduan chuckled.
"Always so reassuring, Hon."
Slightly behind them, arms crossed, a woman watched the mothership with barely concealed impatience. Her presence radiated a natural, almost instinctive pressure, as if combat were her normal state of being.
Ha Yurin turned her gaze toward the horizon.
"We've been waiting too long," she growled. "When something drags on in the Tower, it's rarely a good sign."
Not far from her, a slender man with a detached air examined the sand between his fingers, as though analyzing its composition rather than the place itself.
Po Bidau Gustang spoke without lifting his eyes.
"Waiting is already part of the test. The real question is: what do we observe during that time?"
The wind shifted slightly.
And finally, at the center of the group, stood the one around whom everything seemed to organize itself without him needing to impose it.
Zahard.
Standing still, his gaze fixed on the vast expanse of water, he watched the reflection of the mothership without truly seeing it. His expression was serene, almost curious.
"The Tower brought us here for a reason," he said calmly.
"A reason that will only be revealed at the very last moment," Gustang added.
Zahard smiled faintly.
"Obviously."
⸻
Suddenly, the air changed.
There was no sound.
No vibration.
Rather… an absence.
The Shinsoo, once fluid, froze as if the world itself were holding its breath.
Then, above the beach, a light appeared.
It did not illuminate—it existed.
The light stretched, distorted, and from its core emerged an immense silhouette, impossible to clearly define. A body both massive and indistinct, its shifting contours crossed by flows of Shinsoo so dense they made looking painful.
The Administrator was there.
None of them spoke.
One by one, they straightened.
Zahard was the first to step forward and incline his head slightly.
"Administrator."
The others followed, each in their own way:
a martial salute, a formal bow, a respectful silence.
The entity's voice resonated, without any clear direction.
"You have succeeded in the previous test."
A simple statement.
"The Tower acknowledges your progress."
"We thank you for your evaluation," Zahard replied calmly.
The Shinsoo pulsed softly.
"The trials supervised by examiners are no longer suited to your current state."
Khun Eduan's lips curved into an intrigued smile.
"So there will be no examiner from here on."
"Correct."
A brief silence, heavy with meaning.
The Administrator continued:
"You will be sent to a kingdom."
The light projected a blurred image: ramparts, towers, a city organized around a palace.
"Your presence there will last one year."
Ha Yurin frowned.
"And our role?"
"Protect the royal family of this kingdom.
Preserve its bloodline.
Prevent, as much as possible, the death of its members."
The sea breeze seemed to fall silent.
Arie Hon finally opened his eyes.
"And the threat?"
A beat.
Then:
"Attacks will occur."
Zahard lifted his chin slightly.
"From whom?"
The light flickered imperceptibly.
"This information will not be communicated to you."
A silent murmur passed through the group.
Gustang smiled, thoughtful.
"A test without an identified enemy… How interesting."
"Remember," concluded the Administrator,
"the Tower does not evaluate only your strength.
It observes what you choose to protect."
The light intensified.
The mothership responded, its Shinsoo lines igniting in unison.
And as the scene slowly dissolved, the Tower itself watched.
Without judging.
Without explaining.