The hall filled with screams as the guests pushed and shoved each other, desperate to reach the doors that would not open.
Men who only moments ago stood proudly with wine glasses now scrambled like frightened animals, knocking chairs over and pushing others aside just to get away.
Daniel watched the chaos with calm amusement.
"I always like this scene," he said slowly. "When people who sit on their high horses suddenly fall down and scramble like everyone else for their lives."
He walked forward through the crowd as the single light followed him.
"At this moment," Daniel continued, "you finally understand something."
"You are no different from normal people. Money, power, influence… all those material things have no meaning in front of the fear of death."
The guests froze as he passed them.
Some collapsed to the floor.
Others backed away in terror.
"Stay back!"
Daniel didn't even look at him.
Lights flashed briefly over the terrified faces of the party guests—nobles, officers, politicians—each one pale with fear as the reality of death stood before them.
"No need to panic. I'm not unreasonable," Daniel said calmly, his voice carrying across the terrified ballroom.
"You see, I won't do any of you harm… if you cooperate," he continued.
"All of you will play a game."
Confused murmurs spread among the crowd.
"A game?" one nobleman whispered nervously.
Daniel nodded slightly.
"The game is simple. I will ask one question. You answer it with the truth you believe. If your answer satisfies me…"
He raised his hand and casually tossed the scythe upward. Instead of falling, the weapon stopped midair, suspended above the center of the hall. The blade slowly rotated until it pointed straight down toward the marble floor.
"…then I will grant you eternal life."
"Immortality," Daniel added.
The word rippled through the crowd. Fear that had filled their faces moments ago began to mix with something else—hope, greed, disbelief.
"Immortality…?" someone whispered.
A trembling officer slowly stepped forward, staring at the floating weapon above them.
"And… if the answer doesn't satisfy you?" he asked cautiously.
His voice cracked slightly as he spoke, clearly regretting the question the moment it left his mouth.
"That," Daniel said slowly, looking up at the floating blade, "is my favorite part."
"If your answer does not satisfy me, the scythe will strike you down. Your soul will be trapped inside that weapon for eternity… until you finally understand your wrongdoings."
The words sent a ripple of fear through the crowd.
Several guests instinctively stepped backward.
One nobleman, pale and sweating, raised a shaking hand.
"I… I wish to drop out of this game," he stammered.
Daniel looked at him for a moment.
"Oh," he said casually. "Okay."
The next moment—
A flash of black lightning struck down from the hovering scythe.
The man's head was severed cleanly from his body before anyone could even react. His body collapsed to the marble floor with a dull thud.
Screams erupted across the ballroom.
Women shrieked.
Daniel glanced around the room calmly.
"Drop out means death," he said.
Then he tilted his head slightly, looking at the terrified crowd.
"So… does anyone else want to drop out?"
No one spoke.
That silence made Daniel smile.
"Good," he said slowly. "Looks like no one wants to drop out."
"Then let's begin with our first contestant."
The scythe above shifted slightly as if listening.
Daniel looked around the crowd, then calmly called out a name.
"Baron Otto Falkenhayn."
"A wealthy German industrialist during the war," he continued calmly. "The man who controlled large portions of raw materials and supply distribution. Wheat, metals, chemicals… while soldiers starved and civilians struggled, profits quietly flowed upward."
"You see," he said, "war creates many heroes… but it also creates very comfortable parasites."
"Come out, Otto," Daniel said.
A man suddenly screamed as something unseen grabbed him from the crowd. He was dragged across the marble floor and thrown forward until he landed on his knees in front of Daniel.
"Please—!" the man gasped, shaking violently.
Daniel looked down at him with calm curiosity.
"Now tell me," he said slowly, the scythe still hovering above them, "why did you hoard the food and raise the price of grain?"
"Didn't you feel even a little pity for your fellow humans?" Daniel asked.
Otto trembled under his gaze.
"I—I had no choice!" the man stammered. "War changes markets! Supply and demand—everyone does it!"
"Everyone does it," Daniel echoed.
Otto nodded desperately.
"Yes! If I didn't do it someone else would have! It's just business!"
"Business," Daniel repeated softly.
He looked down at Otto, who was trembling on the marble floor.
"Then tell me something, Otto," Daniel said slowly. "Why do you think soldiers go to fight and die for their country?"
Otto said nothing.
Daniel continued, his voice calm but heavy.
"They could stay home. They could hide somewhere safe and wait for the war to end. Many of them don't even understand why the war started, yet they still march into trenches knowing very well they may never see their families again."
"They do it because they want to protect their homes, their families, their country," Daniel said. "They put their lives at risk for the people behind them."
"And those same people from their country… sit comfortably in rooms like this."
He gestured around the luxurious ballroom.
"Raising the price of food. Guarding wheat and grain so profits rise while the very soldiers dying for their country struggle to eat."
Daniel's voice remained calm, but the weight behind his words filled the entire hall.
"So tell me," he said quietly, "while they risk their lives for their country… how do you justify turning their suffering into profit?"
He paused for a moment, then added with a faint shrug.
"I don't blame you for seeking profit. But when profit becomes the only goal… that's where the rot begins."
"And now my question."
Otto swallowed nervously.
"Are all human lives equal?"
Otto nodded quickly.
"Yes! Of course they are!" he said.
But before the words even finished leaving his mouth—
His body suddenly froze.
His face twisted in terror as something invisible grabbed him. He began to choke, his feet dragging across the floor as an unseen force lifted him slightly off the ground.
"Please—!" he gasped.
Then something dark and faintly glowing was violently pulled out of his chest.
His soul.
It struggled for a moment before being dragged upward into the hovering scythe.
The blade absorbed it instantly.
Otto's body collapsed lifelessly onto the floor.
Daniel looked at the scythe for a moment, then back at the stunned crowd.
"Wrong answer," he said calmly.
"In your heart you were thinking…"
"'How can their lives be compared to mine?'"
*****
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