"What am I? Where am I? Am I... dead?"
Freeze screamed these words in panic, stepping two more steps back as if the danger was still approaching him. His heartbeat was racing—there were no signs of a positive outcome in the situation he was in.
The window appeared once again:
[What am I?]
Answer: You are not qualified to know.
[Where are you?]
Answer: In the arena of King Zero.
[Are you dead?]
Answer: No... not yet.
Placing his hand on his head, eyes widened.
"Not yet? Does that mean he'll kill me soon?!"
He turned his body around and started running, screaming, "What is going on!!"
After a few steps, like a mouse fleeing a trap, he slammed into a white wall that hadn't been there before—as if it appeared from nothingness.
He fell to the ground on his back.
After several seconds...
He took a deep breath in and exhaled strongly, calming himself.
His heart settled, and his expression shifted to surrender, as if despair had overtaken him. He wasn't hurt by the wall, but he knew there was nothing he could do as long as he remained in a place he didn't understand.
The window reappeared again—but this time with no words or letters.
"What does it take to get out of here? I want to return to the place you took me from," he said calmly, like someone trying to strike a deal.
[Do you want to return... for revenge?]
When Freeze read those words, images from the incident he had miraculously survived flashed into his mind—etched deeply in his memory...
The sight of the meat dish he loved placed before him, stabbing his fork into the piece he had cut with a knife. It was perfect, just the way he liked it. Then, the glass that shattered with stones crashing through the wall to his right, and the flames that followed the flying debris.
The joyful family gathering around a luxurious dinner table—he could barely remember the last expressions on their faces due to the shock, only their laughing mouths.
A blurry image of monsters radiating an aura of death bursting through the table... then the chase that led him to this place.
He snapped back to reality, as if everything had just happened.
"Yes," he said with certainty. There is no goal more valuable now.
[You are too cowardly and weak to return to where you came from.]
[Only the strong get answers. Only the strong survive in this world.]
Freeze read the words comfortably, for it was a truth he had believed in for a long time.
It was as if this thing was interacting with Freeze, not following a fixed script. All the signs indicated that it knew him—knew what he wanted. Positivity may have started to overshadow the scene.
[Update]
Exit condition from the arena of King Zero:
Requirement: Reach the fifth floor of King Zero's Tower.
"Oh magical thing, who is King Zero? And what tower are you talking about?"
He immediately raised his hand—still lying on his back—toward the glowing interface, as if telling it to stop. It wasn't a question, more of a test—to see if the conditions would change just by talking.
"Ah... I'm not qualified to know yet, am I?"
[Call me the Hand of the King.]
[Yes, you are not qualified yet.]
Freeze raised his torso forward to sit upright, stretching his legs, supporting his upper body with both hands so he wouldn't fall back on his head. He settled into this position without standing.
"A predictable answer."
[Now it's my turn to ask you, Freeze.]
The last words from the Hand of the King took Freeze's full attention. His serious expression clearly showed his focus.
[You are on a small rocky platform in the middle of molten lava, and ahead of you lies safety... but... the only thing connecting your tiny platform to that safe land is a bridge made of white rabbits with red eyes.]
Freeze furrowed his brows with a surprised and shocked expression, as if the positive atmosphere had already begun to fade.
[The question is...]
[What would you do then?]
He didn't hesitate and answered quickly:
"I run for survival, just like any human with an instinct to stay alive."
[Then use your instincts. And survive.]
Freeze imagined for a moment that the Hand of the King ended its words with a smile.
In the blink of an eye, Freeze's surroundings changed completely—just as the Hand of the King had described.
From the horror of what happened, Freeze sprang to his feet, standing tall as if preparing for what would come next.
The glow of the lava reflected in his eyes and on his skin, as if he were facing hell itself. It didn't take a second before sweat began pouring from his body and his breathing grew heavy.
He turned his head back to take in his surroundings. Behind Freeze stood a rocky wall—not mentioned in the Hand of the King's description.
But its purpose became clear as it began to move toward him, shrinking the space he stood on and pushing him toward the rabbit bridge.
Freeze looked toward the rabbit bridge ahead with a pitiful expression, his mouth open, gasping for enough oxygen as if he were suffocating. The rabbits—normal in shape—faced upward, screaming and squirming as if desperate to be freed. There were no signs of limbs, as if they were just a collection of shrunken heads.
He quickly stepped toward the edge and took the first step onto the rabbits. That's when he realized—he was barefoot.
Without thinking, he started running so that things would blur, so he wouldn't feel what he was stepping on.
The sound of cracking skulls echoed in his ears as he crushed them to survive.
Blood splattered across his feet.
He was being bitten with every step—but they were small rabbits, causing only minor scratches.
Misery, pain, disgust, and terror were all mixed on his face.
Tears pooled in his eyes. He didn't know whether they were from the heat—or the feeling of regret.
"My God... it's disgusting. Every sense and part of my body is cursing me!!" he cried with regret and sorrow.
A few more steps separated him from safety.
He ran, panting heavily, extending his right hand forward as if asking for help—he just wanted someone to grab him and pull him out.
He reached solid ground, disoriented, bending forward and placing his hands on his knees like someone finishing a marathon.
He took a deep breath—as if the air had become lighter, and his skin was now dry, free from sweat.
He lifted his head and looked around—
The hell he had been
in... had vanished.
Directly ahead, the vision was foggy.
The thing before him resembled a massive, black structure.