The Insane Regressor: Throne of Pride

For the moment, Ravian remained passive.

He was not yet searching for a loophole; instead, he was formulating a precise interpretation in his mind that allowed no room for unwarranted assumptions. Every word the entity had spoken might later prove to be the difference between an extra life he could not use here and the true annihilation of his soul.

Ravian was certain that the only way out of this place was to win the game, since he had already found that he could use neither his newly acquired soul power nor a single one of his abilities, as though they had all been sealed.

The only ability Ravian could currently use was Absolute Focus, his unique ability, which had nothing to do with soul power or even this world.

But Ravian did not care about any of that.

His abilities were not what had made him who he was; rather, it was who he was that had brought those abilities to him in the first place.

The entity raised a third finger before Ravian, and it seemed it was not finished yet.

"Third... among the eight who are not the Killer, one holds a role known as the Mage. At the beginning of each night, the Mage may protect up to three people, provided he has communicated with each of them during the day. He may include himself among the three."

The woman in the blue robe, whose earlier trembling had eased somewhat, asked, "Can he protect the same people every night?"

The entity turned toward her—or at least appeared to.

"Everything the other participants need to know has already been said. Anything beyond that concerns the holder of the role alone."

An answer that confirmed nothing and denied nothing.

But Ravian noted that she had been the first to ask about the Mage’s limitations, just as he noted the old man’s brief glance in her direction. Everyone had begun collecting the same details.

’She was simply a fool... wasn’t she?’

"Fourth... direct aggression between participants is prohibited."

Its smile vanished, and the entity’s voice became that of a hoarse old man.

"Weapons, poison, traps, strangulation, shoving, bodily or spiritual harm, and enlisting any of the mirage’s guests or servants to harm another participant are all prohibited. It is also prohibited to restrain or forcibly confine someone, or to deliberately sabotage anything they need in order to cause their death. The moment your intent turns into a genuine attempt, the aggressor will die before the harm reaches its target."

The broad-shouldered man slowly relaxed his fist.

The entity noticed and chuckled to itself.

"The prohibition does not cover lying, surveillance, threats, withholding information, or pushing any of you into making a bad decision of your own volition. This is a game of minds, not a fighting ring, after all."

It raised a fifth finger.

"Fifth... after any participant dies, the accusation window will remain open from the White Bell until the first chime of the Black Bell. An accusation will be accepted only if the accuser provides sufficient evidence for it to be presented before the Nightmare Realm. Acceptable evidence consists of two living witnesses who saw the accused genuinely communicate with the victim during the day preceding the victim’s death."

The old man—the only one of the eight beside Ravian who was of that age—said, "Seeing him communicate with the victim doesn’t prove he was the last to do so."

"Of course not."

The entity’s voice returned to that of a delighted child.

"The two witnesses merely grant you the right to take the risk. If your accusation is correct, you become the sole survivor and everyone else dies. If it is wrong, you die immediately and the game simply continues."

Silence reigned for several moments.

The rule was more insidious than merely demanding evidence. Even the cooperation they needed to expose the Killer would not end with the collaborators surviving, but with only the first person to make the correct accusation surviving. Every piece of information one of them gave another could become the ladder a single person used to climb above all their corpses.

The tall woman in the red robe, standing to the left of the blue-robed woman, asked, "Can we lie to the two witnesses or force them to confirm something they didn’t see?"

"You may lie as much as you wish, but the Nightmare Realm knows what occurred within it. The witnesses do not need to agree to anything; it is enough that they actually witnessed the interaction and that the accuser names them. If the accuser fabricates an event that never happened, I will consider the accusation false."

The entity then lowered its hand.

"As for the simple rules of the night, any communication that occurs after the third chime will count toward neither that same night nor the following one. You may move around and meet if you wish, but the Killer and the Mage lock in their choices at the beginning of the night, after which the Nightmare Realm carries out the result. There will be no more than one killing attempt per night."

Ravian committed this point to memory as well.

Hiding in their rooms would not be compulsory, but it would be the natural choice for anyone who wanted to preserve the order of their final communications before nightfall. At the same time, allowing movement would make surveillance and investigation possible and prevent the game from becoming nine closed doors waiting for the bell.

The mist around them shifted, and nine floating faces appeared within it, one of them Ravian’s.

He studied it for a moment, then realized that something about it was wrong. The hair was white and the eyes crimson, but the shape of the nose and jaw, along with the distance between the eyes, differed ever so slightly—just enough to make him look like someone else.

The entity said, "And finally... the faces you see are not your true faces, and the voices you hear are not your true voices. I preserved your approximate ages and spiritual bodies to retain some variety, but the mirage veiled anything that could reveal your identities. You may give your real names or invent new ones. I will not verify them, and anyone who leaves will be unable to track down the others—or anyone connected to them—using anything they saw here."

"If anyone gets out at all," the thin man spat.

"Kikiki... Well said."

The entity then spread its arms, and the mist behind it rose like a black curtain.

"You will be working together, and so you need names to call one another by. Begin. If any of you refuses, I’ll choose a name I like for you."

No one moved for a second before the broad-shouldered man stepped half a pace forward.

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