"Angelo, you shouldn't speak so harshly," Maria said softly.

  "I merely answered his question," he replied, gentler now.

  The man behind the counter chuckled lightly.

  "I take no offense. Youth tends to burn brightly."

  A pause.

  "I assume you're new to Life Without End?"

  Angelo smirked.

  New.

  "In that case, allow me to explain."

  His voice lowered slightly.

  "There was once a player named Angelo Fool. The Bloody Emperor. The first to fully conquer the game. The first to slay the Supreme God, Gert Keller. The first to defeat Grey Moll. And the first to crush all five of Pelegon's strongest guilds."

  Maria grew still.

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  "The Supreme Gods were permanently removed. The developers chose not to restore them. The five guilds, however, refused to accept defeat. They challenged him again and again. They failed every time."

  A brief pause.

  "And then he vanished."

  Completely.

  "As if he had never existed."

  "The five guilds reclaimed control. The system stabilized. Predictable. Balanced."

  He glanced at the poster.

  "But balance does not last."

  "A major update introduced new deities. Stronger. Smarter. More adaptive."

  His gaze settled on Ehiria.

  "And one stood above the rest."

  The hologram shimmered.

  "Goddess Ehiria."

  "She subdued the five guilds faster than the Bloody Emperor ever did. Pelegon fell under her dominion."

  Silence.

  Angelo laughed softly.

  "So even after my disappearance… those idiots still couldn't keep Pelegon under their control."

  Maria gave him a warning look.

  "My apologies. A brief reaction."

  The man inclined his head.

  "There is currently no player capable of opposing the new gods. The game mirrors reality."

  He spoke slowly.

  "The strong remain above. The weak remain below."

  The pieces aligned in Angelo's mind.

  Interview.

  Invitation.

  A new era.

  This was not a courtesy.

  It was a test.

  They wanted to see whether he could counter the goddess.

  "Thank you," Angelo said calmly.

  He placed twenty francs on the counter and took Maria's hand.

  As they turned to leave, the man spoke:

  "Sir… we will meet again."

  His tone was gentle.

  But deliberate.

  Angelo paused briefly.

  Not fear.

  Recognition.

  He did not look back.

  For the first time in years, he sensed something unfamiliar:

  A board he might not fully control.