Grey slowly opened his eyes.
The world before him was a pure, endless white.
He found himself lying flat on the cold, featureless floor.
Suppressing the surge of unease, he took a deep breath and calmly surveyed his surroundings.
The room was square in shape, its stark walls glowing faintly.
Within it, there were only two objects: a button embedded into one wall, and a sword resting silently atop a small pedestal.
Besides these, there was nothing and no one but Grey himself.
Confusion gripped his mind.
First, the abyssal darkness.
Then, the enigmatic door.
After that, the battlefield and now this pristine, unfamiliar space.
He could feel his body as vividly as ever, yet the reality of the situation remained elusive, leaving him adrift in uncertainty.
He sighed softly and thought,
"I suppose I have no choice. It's almost certain that someone or something is manipulating my actions, steering me along a path unknown. I am nothing more than a pawn, powerless against the currents that have swept me from my reincarnation until now."
Resolute, he walked toward the sword and grasped it.
Its blade was keen, humming faintly with a dangerous aura.
Grey then approached the button, hand hovering inches away.
Yet before pressing it, he hesitated, murmuring inwardly,
"It seems someone wishes for me to fight, But against whom? And for what purpose? Even the strange mark I bore has vanished since I arrived here."
Steeling his nerves, he pressed the button.
A loud mechanical rumble echoed behind him.
Startled, he turned to see a section of the white wall sliding open.
From the opening emerged a figure clad entirely in heavy armor, head to toe concealed beneath plates of cold steel.
The knight moved slowly but deliberately, sword in hand, every step resounding faintly against the floor.
Grey tightened his grip on his weapon, his body tensing like a drawn bow.
The knight entered fully, then halted at the center of the room, standing still like an immovable monument.
He faced Grey directly, but made no move to attack.
A heavy silence filled the space.
Neither side advanced.
After what felt like an eternity, Grey decided to break the deadlock.
He called out,
"Who are you? Why are you here? What is happening in this place?"
But the knight remained silent, as though Grey's words had never been uttered.
It was as if he were speaking to a statue.
Grey sighed inwardly. He had somewhat expected this outcome.
Minutes stretched into half an hour. Neither side moved.
The stale air thickened with a growing sense of oppression.
It was then that Grey noticed something — a dryness in his throat, a faint but insistent thirst creeping upon him.
His pupils shrank slightly as realization struck.
"I'm... thirsty?
That means this place isn't like the darkness from before.
Here, my body deteriorates with time.
Whoever brought me here they intend for me to either fight or perish through hunger and thirst."
He bit his lip, weighing his choices, before slowly advancing toward the knight, stopping at a cautious distance of three or four meters.
Do or die.
As Grey came within range, the knight finally reacted.
He drew back his sword, discarding its scabbard without ceremony, and assumed a battle stance.
Seeing this, Grey quickly mirrored him, raising his own weapon though he knew posturing alone would not save him.
Without warning, the knight lunged.
The first swing came with frightening speed and force.
Grey barely managed to block, the impact sending him staggering two meters backward, the shock numbing his arms.
Before he could regain his balance, the knight closed the gap again, slashing downward with merciless precision.
Grey lifted his sword to defend, but this time the knight's blow struck his hands directly, tearing the weapon from his grip.
In the blink of an eye, the knight's sword was already descending toward him a gleaming arc of death about to sever his existence