The one asking the question was never the Sphinx. It was the stairway beneath their feet — the stairway to the heavens.

The so-called riddle was not about guessing an animal. The real question had been posed on the very first step.

The inscriptions on the pyramid had misdirected their attention. The Sphinx was the final trial of the game.

Anyone who saw that colossal statue would have their mind go blank with terror. No one, after exhausting themselves to climb to the top of the pyramid, would have the presence of mind to go back down.

Daniel’s eyes were blazing red. He could not accept this.

He stared up at the Sphinx, voice trembling: “This can’t be right… this can’t be right…”

The Sphinx slowly raised one great forepaw —

The immense, stone-hard mass hung above Pan Xiaoxin’s head, casting him into shadow.

Pan Xiaoxin’s pupils contracted.

Had he also gotten it wrong?! But if his answer was wrong too, then what was the real answer?!

Light blazed in Daniel’s eyes. Sudden elation surged through him. “Ha! Clever little brat — but you’re finished too! We’re both done!!!”

— BOOM!

The stone figure’s paw fell.

Pan Xiaoxin watched the massive stone rushing toward him. His entire body locked up. He couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything but stand there as it came down.

Was he going to die?

In the end, was he just a child? Had all he done been to cause trouble for adults, nothing more?

Half a second passed — yet it felt like an eternity.

Until — a soft thud.

The Sphinx’s paw made contact with the sword in his hand.

Crack.

Crack… crack…

The surface of the stone sword fractured. Fragments crumbled away like rain, revealing the gleaming edge beneath — and a red ruby, brilliant as blood.

Pan Xiaoxin stared at the sword in his hands.

For a long moment, he stood still. Then his whole body went slack. He dropped to his knees as everything inside him broke loose.

Pan Xiaoxin sobbed openly.

He was right.

He had gotten it right!!!

Daniel looked at the crying child, and something stirred in him — a complicated tangle of envy, resentment, bitterness… and perhaps, just possibly, the faintest trace of feeling moved.

“You little brat…” tears spilled from Daniel’s eyes too. “I’m the one who should be crying…”

Pan Xiaoxin heard him. Through his tears he looked over — and saw only a dried and shriveled puppet.

Because he had won — Daniel had been eliminated.

— The ruby longsword dissolved into pinpoints of starlight and vanished from his hands. At the same moment, in another space, an empty scabbard received the ruby hilt.

—

Bai Youwei stared at the ruby on the sword hilt, and her eyes burned with heat.

Even without knowing the details of the game, she could imagine the danger her companions had faced.

Especially against an opponent with such an overwhelming numerical advantage — to hold firm, to withstand that pressure and retrieve the King’s sword for her… that wasn’t something that could be described with words like “courage” or “intelligence.” It was the seamless trust of people working in absolute unity, and the wholehearted giving of everything they had.

They had already done this for her. She could not afford to let them down.

Bai Youwei held back the tears threatening to fall. She drew the sword and looked across at Vilrad with an icy smile.

“Now then — let me cripple your other arm.”

Vilrad’s expression froze.

He turned to the referee. “If I recall correctly, their side missed at least two games — so the swords from those rounds…”

“Regrettably, all those contestants were eliminated,” Tu Shenshi replied with polite composure.

Vilrad was silent for a moment. “…Even with no competition, winning isn’t guaranteed?”

“That is correct.” Tu Shenshi inclined his head slightly. “Cases where the subjects failed to retrieve the sword, resulting in the king’s death on the battlefield — those do occur.”

“And if all available swords have been used, but neither king has died?” Vilrad asked again.

“One of them will die.” Tu Shenshi smiled. “Between two people, one will always fall first.”

Before this game could end, the wound’s pain, time’s toll on stamina, the absence of food and water — all of it would eventually claim a life. The only question was who fell first, and who fell last.

Bai Youwei drove the sword into Vilrad’s other arm. The wound in her abdomen tore open again.

Her heart felt hollow: could a game like this actually be won?

—