The silence that followed Edward's words was not empty but heavy, saturated with suppressed breathing, clenched jaws, and the quiet realization that what stood before them was no longer a fellow participant but a force that had slipped beyond the boundaries of shared morality, because the rules that once bound them together had already been shattered the moment blood touched the ground.
A fragment user stepped forward, unable to tolerate the pressure any longer, his pride forcing movement before reason could restrain him, and with a cold laugh he spoke loudly, trying to reclaim dominance through volume alone, declaring that Edward's actions meant nothing, that killing a Common Bloodline child did not grant authority, that fragment families were not something an exile could threaten without consequences.
"My name is Nova," he announced, his voice sharp and defiant, "from a Fragment family, and if you think we're afraid of you, you're delusional."
He closed the distance deliberately, each step calculated to show contempt, and when he reached Edward, he placed a hand on his shoulder, fingers pressing down as if to assert control, his lips curling into a mocking smile as he said that fear had no place here.
Edward did not turn.
Edward did not speak.
The blade flashed.
The sound came first a wet, heavy impact followed by a spray of blood that painted the floor and the surrounding air, and only then did Nova realize that his hand was no longer connected to his body, the pain arriving a fraction of a second later, exploding through his nervous system with such intensity that his scream tore through the hall like a dying animal's cry.
His severed arm hit the ground.
Edward slowly turned his head.
"Nova," he said calmly, his voice low and even, as though correcting a name on a list, "Fragment family."
He tilted his head slightly, studying Nova's collapsing form.
"Choose," Edward continued, his tone almost polite. "The game, or an item."
"Hurry," he added softly. "You're bleeding out."
Laughter escaped him, quiet and chilling.
"If the blood doesn't stop," he said, "you die."
Fear detonated across the hall.
Eyes widened.
Breaths stuttered.
Even those who had believed themselves prepared now understood something irreversible had crossed the line.
Derek's fingers tightened.
Kinston swallowed.
Someone thought it silently, and the thought spread like poison.
We chose the wrong person.
Nova collapsed to his knees, screaming in agony, his arrogance shattered along with his arm, blood pooling beneath him as he screamed for mercy, for help, for anything.
"I choose the item!" he screamed. "Item! I choose item!"
Edward nodded once.
Nova fumbled through his storage, his movements frantic and uncoordinated, before throwing a ring onto the ground.
"A fragment ring," he gasped, "it stores Holo Stones only, now let me go!"
Edward picked it up, examined it briefly, and smiled.
"Acceptable," he said.
"You may leave."
Nova did not waste a second.
He crushed a white fragment in his trembling hand, activating its healing property, light wrapping around his wound as his severed arm was pulled toward the stump, flesh beginning the slow, agonizing process of reattachment.
But healing took time.
Twelve hours at least.
And the gate would open in less than twenty-five minutes.
Edward turned back to the others.
"Next."
A Common Bloodline child stepped forward, trembling so violently that his knees nearly gave out, his eyes fixed on the bloodstains still wet on the floor.
Edward glanced at him and waved dismissively.
"Common Bloodline," he said flatly. "No need."
"The first kill was your payment."
"Leave. Go stand in the corner."
The words landed like mockery wrapped in mercy, and the Common Bloodline children retreated quickly, relief and humiliation mixing into something bitter.
Only Eternal and Fragment Bloodline participants remained.
Forty-four of them.
Their anger burned openly now, faces twisted with fury, humiliation, and hatred, yet none dared move, because every one of them understood the cost of acting rashly at this moment, knowing that any injury sustained before entering the Holo World could mean death inside it.
Edward walked among them slowly.
"Items," he said simply.
One by one, they stepped forward.
Fragments.
Equipment.
Storage tools.
Each offering was placed into Edward's hands with clenched teeth and burning eyes, and each refusal was met with the coin appearing in Edward's fingers, flipping lazily through the air, the sound of metal spinning becoming a death sentence suspended between heartbeats.
When shoes were offered, Edward rejected them.
When bags were offered, he demanded better.
When hesitation appeared, the coin appeared.
Life.
Death.
No negotiation.
When Derek's turn came, Edward raised a hand.
"No," he said.
Derek froze.
"No need," Edward repeated.
The reaction was immediate.
Jealousy ignited.
Suspicion followed.
Why was Derek exempt?
Why was he spared?
A seed was planted, and Edward smiled inwardly as it took root, because distrust was far more destructive than violence.
The last participant stepped forward and presented a sword fragment and said longer than a standard blade but powerful enough to crush a stone
Edward accepted it without ceremony.
"Gentlemen," he said lightly, his voice carrying clear across the hall, "thank you for playing with me."
Curses erupted.
Hatred boiled.
And then
A message appeared, glowing with finality.
Entering the Holo World has started. Please be ready.
Edward looked down at his pocket watch.
Time.
He closed it.
And smiled.