Time passed as one game followed another, each one flowing into the next without pause, as if the space itself refused to give even a moment of rest.

The second game ended the same way as the first.

With loss.

There was no loud reaction, no frustration, and no sign of struggle. Vivian simply accepted the result the moment it was decided.

Then, without hesitation, his sword moved.

It was fast and clean, a single precise motion that did not allow even the slightest delay.

His other leg fell.

Blood rushed out at once, thick and heavy, spreading across the white floor that had long been stained red.

His body trembled slightly from the sudden loss of balance, but it was brief and quickly faded as he steadied himself with what little remained.

His expression did not change.

Not even for a moment.

It was as if pain had no meaning to him at all.

***

The third game began soon after.

The clown’s tone turned lighter, almost cheerful, as if he were introducing something pleasant instead of something cruel.

“A beautiful game this time,” he said with a soft laugh.

The space shifted, and a garden appeared around them, filled with countless roses stretching as far as the eye could see.

Red, white, and even darker shades bloomed together, their scent filling the air with a sweetness that felt out of place in such a space.

“The rule is simple,” the clown continued, walking slowly through the flowers, his fingers brushing lightly against the petals.

“The one who takes the red rose wins.”

He paused and glanced back, his grin widening slightly.

“But not everything that looks red is truly red.”

****

Vivian moved forward without asking anything.

His steps were slow and uneven now, his body already pushed far past what it should have endured.

Blood trailed behind him as he walked into the field of roses, leaving a clear path marking every step he took.

He reached for one rose.

Then another.

Each time, the result was wrong.

The colors shifted in ways that did not make sense, as if the space itself was playing with his perception.

What looked red was not red. What seemed real was false.

It was not a game of sight.

It was a game designed to mislead.

***

In the end, he lost again.

There was no announcement this time, no dramatic reveal or mocking sound.

The result simply settled into the space as a quiet truth.

Vivian did not wait.

His sword slipped from his hand as he bent forward, his movements steady despite the state of his body.

Then, without hesitation, he used his teeth.

He bit down.

Hard.

A wet tearing sound broke the silence as his right arm separated from his body and fell to the ground.

***

Now, he had nothing left.

No arms.

No legs.

Only a broken body that should not have been able to remain upright.

Yet he was still there.

Blood covered him, dripping slowly from what remained of his limbs and pooling beneath him in a dark, spreading stain.

His body swayed slightly, unstable and incomplete, but he did not fall.

More importantly—

He did not change.

His face remained still.

Empty.

Unmoving.

Like a doll that had been damaged piece by piece, yet showed no sign of what it had lost.

****

The clown burst into laughter, his voice echoing loudly through the space as he clutched his stomach.

“Kekekekekekek—! You are really cruel, aren’t you?” he said between laughs, clearly enjoying the sight in front of him.

“Cutting off your own limbs like that without even reacting… it’s almost scary.”

He straightened slowly, wiping at his eyes as if he had laughed too much, though his grin never faded.

“You could have tried to fight back at least,” he added, tilting his head slightly.

“I cheated in many of the games, you know? It wasn’t fair at all.”

His smile widened further.

“And yet you didn’t even try.”

***

Vivian’s eyes narrowed slightly as he looked at the clown.

The movement was small, almost insignificant, but it was the only visible change in him.

Right now, he had no control over his body.

The only things left under his control were his thoughts—

And his voice.

This space was not something he could simply break through.

It was a Genesis Heart, a complete domain controlled entirely by the clown.

Everything within it followed the clown’s rules, bending and shifting according to his will.

To destroy something like this required more than strength.

It required a Genesis Heart that had reached completion.

The peak of Grandmaster.

Only then could someone shatter a domain like this by force.

***

If his grandfather had been here, this space would not have lasted long.

It would have been destroyed without much difficulty.

But Vivian was not at that level yet.

He had only just stepped into the early stage of Grandmaster.

While he was strong enough to stand against the clown in a direct fight, his Genesis Heart had not developed enough to break this space itself.

That meant one thing.

Fighting back would not work.

Any attempt to resist directly would simply be suppressed by the domain.

***

So he chose not to struggle.

He chose to endure.

To observe.

To understand.

His thoughts remained calm as everything slowly connected in his mind.

Every game.

Every rule.

Every punishment.

None of it was meaningless.

This place was not just trapping him.

It was teaching him.

***

Vivian watched him quietly for a moment, his face slowly shifting into something more focused.

“Alright…” he said, his voice lowering slightly.

“Let’s begin the last game.”

“As you say, dear participant,” the clown giggled as he snapped his fingers.

Snap!

The sound was sharp, clean, and with it, the spinning wheel vanished without a trace, as if it had never existed in the first place.

The empty space it left behind felt strange for a moment, almost too quiet.

The clown giggled again, clearly pleased.

“The last round is already decided, so we don’t need that anymore,” he said lightly, waving his hand as if dismissing something trivial.

He stepped forward onto the platform, his movements exaggerated and lively, then spread his arms wide like a grand host welcoming an unseen audience.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” he called out, his voice rising with excitement.

“I, yours truly, the clown, am going to present the final round of the 769th session!”

He declared, bowing slightly as if receiving applause that no one else could hear.

His head tilted as he looked out into the empty space, eyes shining as though he truly saw a crowd watching him.

“And our participant…” he continued, his voice lowering for effect, “…is Vivian D. Zenithara.”

He paused.

The silence stretched.

Then his grin widened.

“And the stakes are…” he said slowly, dragging out each word as his eyes flicked toward Vivian.

“If he loses this round—”

He lifted a hand and made a slicing motion across his own neck.

“—his head will be cut.”

The air grew heavier.

Even the space itself seemed to hold its breath.

Vivian slowly raised his head.

His face remained the sam3, still, empty, almost lifeless, but his eyes were not.

They were focused.

Sharp.

Thinking.

‘My intuition… it has returned?’ he thought quietly.

There was no change in his expression, yet something within him had shifted.

Until now, everything had felt dull, distant, as if a layer had been placed between him and the world.

But now—

That layer was thinning.

‘Only a few hours should have passed here,’ he continued, his thoughts moving calmly, ‘but if my intuition has recovered to this level… then the flow of time must be different.’

A small realization formed in his mind.

This space did not just control rules.

It also affected time.

The clown watched him for a brief moment, as if sensing the change, before his grin stretched even wider.

“So~” he said, clapping his hands together once, his tone bright and excited again.

“For the final round, let me announce the name.”

He paused deliberately, enjoying the moment.

His eyes gleamed with anticipation.

“The Mirror Game.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep