Zario stood motionless in the midst of this oppressive darkness, slowly running his hand over the perfectly smooth marble, the surface of which remained so clean and cold, as if it was still being cared for even here, deep under the cliff, where neither sunlight nor the breath of the outside world penetrated, and it was precisely this abnormal neatness, devoid of the slightest trace of time, that caused him much more anxiety than if the room had been destroyed or abandoned.
After all, caves are not like that.
Dungeons don't keep polished marble dust-free, don't leave the air so still that the space itself feels artificial, and certainly don't create the feeling that something is silently watching you with every step you take, something that can perfectly conceal its presence.
That is why Zario understood one thing, even if he could not prove it with either hearing or sight, which had long since ceased to be the weapons they had been in his past life.
Someone was here.
Not because he heard breathing, not because he caught movement, but because the place itself seemed too "alive," too preserved, too prepared for emptiness, and the longer he stood among the cold marble, feeling the perfect surface under his fingers without a single crack or layer of dirt, the more this unpleasant feeling of someone else's observation took shape inside him.
"Maybe you should come out already, where you're hiding..." the thought sounded heavy and irritated inside his mind, although he understood perfectly well that he could only convey it to himself, since his own voice had long since become a non-existent thing for him, cut off along with his hearing somewhere at the moment this damned Festival began.
And yet…
Despite the lack of evidence, despite the absolute silence and impenetrable darkness, Zario continued to feel this strange pressure, as if somewhere beyond his perception someone was patiently watching his every movement, in no hurry to show itself.
Zario descended here as carefully as was possible for a person deprived of hearing, since he calculated each step through the pressure of his body, through the contact of his sole with the surface, through the memory of distance, and even the fall downwards he tried to make as quiet as possible, leaving behind only a short slide on the wet stone, which in such dead darkness an ordinary person would hardly be able to notice.
That was why irritation was slowly building up inside him.
Because whoever was hiding here not only sensed a stranger's presence, but also seemed to have realized in advance that someone had entered this place, as if the cave itself had already announced the appearance of a stranger to the one who lived deep inside this underground hall.
How? This question haunted Zario, as there were too many possibilities, ranging from banal traps to something far beyond human comprehension, and the more he thought about it, the more he realized how little he actually knew about the rules of this world.
He didn't just sense a strange presence, or stumble upon it by chance, but rather he realized that Zario's very appearance in this dungeon had already been noticed in advance by something that was watching every movement inside this cold, marble void.
And the longer Zario considered this, the more unpleasant the thought became. Because there were too many options.
Perhaps he was noticed at the entrance to the cave, perhaps the damp stone under the descent was not a coincidence, but someone's footprint, perhaps the area itself was reacting to the presence of strangers, or perhaps...
Whoever was hiding here possessed something that went far beyond ordinary perception.
And at that very moment, as Zario continued to stand motionless among the cold marble, peering intently into the impenetrable darkness ahead, a strange voice suddenly sounded inside his consciousness, calm and eerily clear, as if someone had spoken the words directly into his head, bypassing hearing, air, and reality itself.
— How did you know I was here?...
***
"What the hell... no... wait..." Zario's thoughts began to become increasingly confused, as the situation he found himself in was breaking not only the logic of what was happening, but also the very foundation of what he had managed to understand about his own state after the start of the Death Festival. The more desperately he tried to find a rational explanation for what was happening, the deeper he fell into a feeling of absolute incomprehension.
Because it was a voice.
Not an illusion born of fatigue or the oppressive darkness of this place.
He actually heard it, so clearly, as if the words were spoken right next to him, although Zario himself knew perfectly well that his hearing had disappeared, and disappeared completely, leaving behind only an eternal, silent emptiness.
"I won't repeat myself... answer, how did you know I was here?" The alien voice sounded inside his head again, calm and cold, and this unnatural clarity only further unsettled Zario, since the sound didn't pass through the air, didn't touch his ears, but seemed to emerge immediately from within his consciousness, bypassing all human perception.
"Wait... what the hell... where is that sound coming from?.. Am I hearing something?.." Zario tried his best to gather his thoughts together, going over options one after another, from magic to hallucinations, but no theory came together completely, since the very fact that he was perceiving someone else's speech already contradicted the rules that this damned Festival had imposed on him.
And the worst part wasn't even that.
The worst thing was that the unknown voice sounded too confident, too calm, as if whoever was hiding in this darkness understood Zario's state perfectly, saw his confusion perfectly, and that was precisely why he was in no hurry to show himself, continuing to put pressure on him with his mere presence.
No, Zario quickly realized one extremely important thing, which made this whole situation no less strange, but on the contrary, only put more pressure on his consciousness with its abnormality, since he still did not hear anything in the usual sense of the word.
No air. No steps. No breath of his own.
All these voices arose directly in his head, as if someone was forcibly inserting words directly into his consciousness, bypassing the hearing itself, which no longer existed in him, and that is precisely why Zario, despite all the absurdity of what was happening, tried to find at least some kind of rational explanation.
"Hallucinations... I understand... I spent so much time in this darkness, and without a single sound, I never thought my mental state could fail me so badly..." Zario's thoughts flowed slowly and tensely, since even he himself understood how pathetic such an explanation sounded, but he had no other options yet.
And just at that moment, when he had almost convinced himself of his own theory, a strange voice cut through his consciousness again, and this time much more roughly and irritably, as if the very existence of these thoughts was beginning to irritate the stranger.
— What the hell are you talking about hallucinations... answer my question, or you'll rot here forever.
And from these words, an unpleasant feeling slowly ran through Zario, since hallucinations do not argue.
Hallucinations are not irritating.
And they certainly don't threaten him so consciously and consistently, as if there really was something alive on the other side of that impenetrable darkness, patiently watching his every move.
Zario's adaptability showed itself once again in all its terrifying glory, because the chaos that had been tearing his thoughts apart just a moment ago suddenly began to form a coherent picture, where every oddity, every illogical detail, and every sensation that seemed absurd fell into place so perfectly, as if it had all been part of the same construct from the very beginning.
And at that very moment, Zario finally understood one thing, which made his gaze even colder.
He still heard nothing. Absolutely nothing.
There was no movement of air, no sound of his own breathing, not even the sound of his footsteps as he continued to slowly walk along the perfectly smooth marble, feeling under his feet only the icy surface, whose purity was no longer seeming ordinary.
Nothing has changed.
No miracle happened, the negative effect did not disappear, his hearing was not restored, because the problem itself was completely different, and as soon as Zario realized this, his consciousness instantly discarded all erroneous options.
Everything was ridiculously simple.
The voice didn't come through his ears. It came directly from inside his head.
As something that directly touched the consciousness, bypassing any physical perception, which is why even a person completely deaf was still able to "hear" it, and this is what made the situation truly abnormal.
"So… this is how you talk to me…" the thought formed calmly, although tension was already slowly rising inside her, because this kind of thing disrupted too many things at once.
The darkness around remained the same, the cold continued to slowly penetrate under the skin, and the perfectly clean marble underfoot only further reinforced the feeling that this place could not be an ordinary cave, since too many things here looked as if someone still maintained this place in perfect condition.
And the most unpleasant thing wasn't even the voice.
And the fact is that this someone was still watching him right now.
The voice inside his mind sounded frighteningly clear, so pure and deep, as if each word was not spoken, but was directly cut into his mind, and the timbre itself turned out to be unexpectedly pleasant, with soft feminine notes that he involuntarily wanted to hear again, and this was what was most alarming.
But Zario was not interested in the beauty of the voice.
He was interested in the nature of ability.
The picture was too perfect to be a coincidence, so after just a few moments he had almost completely constructed in his head the possible mechanism of what was happening, connecting the lack of hearing, the direct penetration of words into consciousness, and the fact that the unknown person realized of his presence even before he had time to do anything.
The conclusion was obvious.
The voice belonged to the player.
And the likelihood that her ability was related to reading thoughts, perceiving consciousness, or direct contact with the mind of another person already exceeded all reasonable limits, because Zario simply saw no other explanation for how exactly he was discovered in absolute darkness.