After speaking, the voice belonging to the "game" fell silent, passing to the next person.
Click.
In Room Seven, The Creator abruptly pressed the stopwatch and looked down.
—Three minutes exactly!
From Sin's earlier silence to the sudden appearance and disappearance of the "game voice."
Precisely three minutes!
Exactly the full speaking time allotted to one person!
"Heh..."
"Isn't this... a bit too coincidental?"
The Creator toyed with his stopwatch in his room, murmuring to himself.
How could this possibly be a coincidence?
"You..."
"First pretended to be Sin by remaining silent, then after a long delay, pretended to be the game?"
"Not bad... Who are you..."
"Good acting, but I've seen through it."
The Creator wore a smile, but suddenly, his entire body stiffened, his expression freezing solid.
No!
What if the opponent wanted him to see through it?
...That seemed highly possible!
Running through all the faces he'd seen today in his mind, he suddenly gasped:
"Hah! It's you!"
In his room, The Creator instantly sighed, his face lighting up with something akin to delight.
This game of hide-and-seek had everyone isolated in their own rooms, unable to see each other, with open chat times broadcast to all participants.
This created a major problem—if you wanted to convey a message, there was almost no way to transmit it point-to-point.
You couldn't privately inform any individual; you could only speak on the public channel for everyone to hear.
Just like Chiyo Eine earlier, wanting to say something but hesitating due to potential consequences.
And the public channel was inherently competitive, especially with the game's true entity—Brother Jue—now participating.
Thus, if you wanted to send a specific message, you had to address everyone while ensuring only one particular person could understand its hidden meaning.
This posed an enormous challenge for both sender and receiver!
So why could he detect something amiss here?
Because he was intimately familiar with this method of message transmission!
In his chaotic past, during that most recent game in prison when he was still Know-it-All.
That game where two opponents coordinated, employing endless variations of message-passing to confuse their enemies had left a deep impression on him.
Moreover, he'd previously claimed to be the one impersonating the game, inviting its true entity to find him.
The "game voice" just now had specifically mentioned him, serving as a reminder to subconsciously connect those words to himself!
That girl impersonating the game was sending him a message!
If this communication method succeeded, it would mean every player was an information island while she alone could transmit targeted information.
With others struggling to communicate, only she could achieve specific player-to-player messaging, staying steps ahead of everyone.
"What a confident little..."
Just as he finished mentally reconstructing events, The Creator shuddered violently again.
Wait...
Earlier, when each player made their demand to the game, what had she requested?
—Divided battlefields!
Divided battlefields making every player an isolated individual!
That was her original demand!
Had she planned everything from that moment?
This was a method tailor-made for herself after thoroughly analyzing her own strengths and weaknesses.
Reaching this realization, The Creator suddenly saw everything with crystal clarity while simultaneously feeling chills down his spine.
His expression grew complex yet carried appreciation for this junior as countless emotions surged within him.
"After meeting me just once, you already figured me out?"
"Impressive... little girl, you've factored in both me and the game itself..."
"Planning to be this game's chess player? You're not overdosing on meds again, going this hard."
"Heh, Room Zero, but how can you be sure I'll help you?"
The Creator kept muttering to himself, yet felt no hostility at being used—only paternal admiration.
Our nation's younger generation truly produces remarkable talents!
After a quiet laugh,
Heh, that girl called Blank might have even anticipated this reaction of his.
Whatever. Regardless, he'd definitely go take a look!
As this thought formed, the kindness in his eyes gradually sharpened.
"I choose to use my opportunity to challenge another player's room!"
"Target: Room Zero!"
......
While The Creator pieced together clues about Blank's plans, messages outside continued flowing.
Though it hardly made any difference.
Because after that "game" voice disappeared, a full six minutes passed without a single word from anyone!
This wasn't right!?
Who would dare do this?
Someone like Sin might, but wasn't Sin's turn already over?
Moreover, three minutes per person—so why six minutes now?
Who had the audacity? Wasn't there supposed to be at least one correct message?
What did this complete silence mean?
Had someone like Xue Yue been killed by Chiyo Eine? Or eliminated by another player?
Each person sat quietly in their room yet felt trapped in a dark, terrifying forest devoid of safety.
These seemingly bright, clean rooms were actually shrouded in thick mist and lurking dangers.
The strongest player asleep at the wheel, the game referee personally entering the fray, the world's second most combat-ready player fired up...
This Game 2.0 was excessively lethal.
Yet all this had little to do with Xie Antong in her room.
After mimicking the game's voice, she violently spat out that button-sized device and began coughing violently.
This thing wasn't just for voice imitation.
Emotions, intent—everything had to synchronize perfectly since she wasn't trying to fool some nobody.
Afterwards, she sat cross-legged, quietly waiting while calming her mind and spirit.
Finally, after an indeterminable time, a figure appeared in her room.
An overwhelming, oppressive aura pinned her firmly to the floor.
And the character in her room read:
"Martial."