The survivors were not given time to rest.By the same evening, they were gathered once again in the square.The air this time was unnaturally still, and the sky was devoid of any bird.
One of the men in the gray coat stepped forward, raising in his hands a strange metallic device, resembling half a glass mask streaked with faint lines of light.His voice was hesitant, as if he were reading from an ancient text:
— "The second stage… the passage.You will enter another world… a transparent world, not born of nature. A forbidden technology, from an age remembered only in the records."
Faces tensed.One of the youths shouted:— "What does this mean?! Is this magic?!"
But no one answered him.After an hour of silent marching through dense forests, the group stopped in a rocky clearing surrounded by ancient ruins.The gray stones were covered with strange carved lines, resembling a script that had died centuries ago.
The man in the gray coat stood before them, pointing to the center of the square, where a complex circle of inscriptions and small black stones had been placed.He spoke in a low voice that pierced through all the silence:
— "Here… begins the second stage."
The survivors glanced around, their faces pale, their breaths quickening.No one understood what he meant.Some tried to step back, as though that would return them to their village.But one of the men raised his sword in the air—a clear signal that there was no turning back.
The man continued coldly:
— "This technology… must not be used openly.But our masters have decided to activate it for you.You are about to enter the Transparent World."
Most of them did not understand what that meant.The Transparent World?A meaningless word to them.A murmur of uneasy whispers rose among the ranks:
— "What is he saying…?"— "A world? What world?"— "Is this a game? Some trickery?"
But Adam… did not turn.He did not ask.He did not tremble.Because he had heard the name before.
(The Transparent World…)It was the only word the masked man had spoken on the night of his mother's death, as he stood among the ruins of their home, speaking of "dimensions unseen by men."
The man in the gray coat raised his right hand high.In his palm was a black stone talisman bound with silver threads.He closed his eyes, murmuring strange words like a muffled heartbeat.
Then…The air split open in the center of the circle.As though liquid glass twisted and revealed something else.A wide fissure opened in space, stretching in height and breadth, until it resembled a vast window onto a gray world unlike anything they had known.
The ground there was like dense fog, and the buildings were gray phantoms.Even the air itself shimmered like a broken mirror.
Some survivors stepped back in terror.Others cried out:
— "No…! This is impossible!"— "What kind of madness is this?!"
But Adam…kept his gaze fixed on the opening.He felt no terror, no rejection.He felt something else:
(It is the same place… the masked man came from here.He… did not lie.)
For a moment, his heart seemed to stop.Thoughts raced:This was no ordinary trial.This was a passage… into something beyond human bounds.
The man lifted his head, speaking in a tone like a seal upon their fate:
— "The Transparent World… is a mirror of your innermost selves.Those who cannot endure their own reflection… will not leave alive."
Then he pointed to the circle:
— "Enter."
No one moved.Their faces were white as ash.
Adam stepped forward without hesitation.For the first time in a long while, he felt the next step might answer something that had haunted his heart:Why did the masked man kill his mother? Why all this ruin?
He stood at the edge of the fissure, cast one last glance at the trembling eyes behind him…then entered without turning back.Adam entered first.He passed through the transparent barrier, as though piercing a sheet of cold water, and emerged on the other side.He stood in the gray gloom, watching the ground beneath his feet ripple like liquid.Then the others followed, one by one…Sixty-nine men and women.All of them entered, some dragging their feet as though walking their last steps.
And as soon as they had crossed…the fissure closed behind them with the sound of shattering glass.There was no way back.
They looked around them:The horizon was without color.The buildings resembled ruins made of mist.The ground was smooth, yet pulsed beneath them every few seconds like a hidden heart.No sun, no moon.Only a faint light radiating from everything… as though it were a dreamlike world obeying no familiar laws.
In this world…they were scattered against their will.As though something unseen dragged each of them in a different direction.
The old woman with white hair vanished behind a transparent wall.The blond youth who had been trembling moments earlier… was drawn toward a broken staircase climbing into nothingness.The little boy began to run after a phantom in which he thought he saw his mother.And from afar echoed a desperate cry:— "Where are you…?! Can you hear me…?!"
Each one found themselves alone.As if the place were alive, intent on separating them.
Adam stood still.He felt the air cling to his skin like a damp membrane.He raised his hand and touched an invisible wall he had not seen a moment before.He stepped forward…and before him opened a long, narrow path, its sides lined with mirror-like walls…And in those mirrors, he saw his own reflection staring back with hollow eyes.
(This place… is not just another dimension.)(It is a twisted copy of our minds.)
He heard the echo of his own voice in his head, yet it seemed others were repeating it with him.Then the sound suddenly ceased.
Elsewhere, a woman was begging:— "Send me back… please!"But no one heard.
In another corner, a man walked across a transparent floor, watching his memories shift like shadows beneath his feet:The day of his birth, the first time he stole…The first time he cried as a child…Then the image of his face as he slaughtered a man.He collapsed, screaming and pounding at the glass in vain.
Adam kept walking in silence.His steps were light, but his heart heavy.He sensed this place…was designed to make them face themselves before devouring them.
He no longer heard the others.He no longer saw anyone.
He felt that from this point on…nothing would ever be the same.
He lifted his eyes to the endless gray sky, and a single thought passed through his mind:(If I am to survive… I must learn how this place works.)
And he walked on into his transparent tunnel, without certainty, without outward fear…Yet inside, a strange awareness burned…Like a tiny seed beginning to sprout in barren soil.Deep within…with every step Adam took in the glass tunnel, he felt as though the steps were draining from his soul rather than his body.As though he were leaving behind successive fragments of memory, senses, any remnants of old emotions.
He passed another wall of mirrors, but this time he did not see his reflection.Instead, he saw a rust-colored slab, carved with an inscription:
17772458
He did not blink.He read the number calmly.Then asked in his mind:(What is this?)
The answer came…It was not anyone's voice, but a hollow whisper that seemed to rise from the walls of the place itself:
"You are the 17,772,458th person to enter this world since it began operation… over a thousand years ago."
The number stirred no emotion in him.But his mind kept calculating:
(Seventeen million… this is no small trial. This is a system… a hunt… or a selection.)
Images flashed across the mirrors around him:Men and women through history…Frightened faces, bewildered faces, faces stripped of humanity.He saw one smiling as he was consumed by transparent mist.He saw a woman dying as she clutched a baby—alive, or only an illusion, he could not tell.
Then…he saw a white-haired youth wearing a black mask…his back to the mirror.But he suddenly turned, as though sensing Adam's gaze.
In that moment…Adam's eyes slowly widened.Something inside him clenched sharply—not fear, but a cutting awareness…That image reminded him instantly of the night of the attack… his mother's blood.
He lifted his hand to touch the mirror's surface, but the image dissolved.He stood there for a long moment.
(If this place preserves the images of all who have passed here… then perhaps it bears witness to every ancient crime.)
The tunnel stretched ahead, and he kept walking.Every ten steps, new numbers flickered on the walls:
1777245917772460
And names he did not know.Until he reached a slightly wider space, at its center a half-transparent glass slab resembling an altar.He approached slowly…and saw that its surface was covered with dozens of names, carved in precise order.
His eyes searched the rows, until they fell upon his own:
ADAM ETHAN
Directly beneath:
Entry Number: 17,772,458Status: Active
A cold shiver ran down his spine.(This means… this place is monitoring us moment by moment.)
He felt that if he lifted his eyes now, something—or someone—might be watching him…But it no longer mattered.
He did not retreat.He did not tremble.Instead, he touched the glass slab with his fingertips, whispering to himself in a dry tone:
"Then watch me… I will find a way out."
Then he turned, and stepped into the corridor that opened before him on its own.
Elsewhere, the screams of the others still echoed through the gray walls…But to him, they no longer sounded like screams.Only a distant noise…as though it belonged to a life that was no longer his.He walked the endless passages, mirror after mirror showing fragmented scenes:
A child crying over a corpse,A man driving a sword into his enemy's chest,A woman screaming as she was dragged into a white void.
Adam did not stop his steps.His eyes skimmed over the scenes as though they were stories of strangers, unconnected to him.
Inside, a single question kept pulsing:
(How many of them returned alive?)
But he did not expect an answer…Until a faint voice came in his mind, unlike the previous whisper, more like an echo rebounding from the walls of his own thoughts:
"Less than one percent."
He paused.Looked around.No one.He did not comment, nor did he marvel that he was hearing voices without a source.
He kept walking.Each step drew him deeper into a strange mental state:
Complete coldness,Severe clarity,An almost total absence of desire to survive or fear of the end.
He entered a slightly larger hall, without a roof.He looked up…The void was black—no sky, no stars.
In the middle of the floor, he saw something like a glass well.He approached, peered inside…and saw his name glowing in blue script:
ADAM ETHAN
Threat Level: LowSurvival Probability: 7%
He stared at the number for a long time.He did not feel panic, but a strange kind of calm…
(Seven percent… that is more than I expected.)
He placed his hand on the edge of the well, as if to confirm it was real, then drew in a cold breath.He watched his distorted reflection on the inner wall:
A pale face,Dead eyes,Black hair falling to his jaw,And a weariness that seemed eternal.
For a moment he thought he saw his mother's ghost pass behind his shoulder in the reflection.He did not turn.
Instead, he said softly:
"I do not know why I came here… and I do not care if I die."
He paused, then added inwardly:
(But since I have arrived, I will watch until the end.)
He turned, continued on his path.His mind began to plan:
If this is a test, I must not break.
If it is a trap, I must understand the rules before I lose.
And if it is fate… then resistance is meaningless, but at least I will know how it ended.
He felt the cold of the tunnel floor seep into his feet, and the sound of his steps became like the ticking of a slow clock.
Here…in this glass void, Adam no longer knew if he was a victim, a watcher, or merely another number in a centuries-old ledger.
But he kept walking.And for the first time…a question came to him unlike his usual ones:
(If Neil saw me now… would he know I am no longer the same child he once defeated?)
And he walked on… into a depth unlike any place he had ever seen before.