Marcus had no idea how much time had passed since he sat in that place. Time didn't flow the usual way here; hours seemed to choke inside the silence. Most of those around him sat scattered—some in small groups, others isolated like him. There were no greetings, no explanations.
His eyes wandered over the calm faces… eyes that revealed nothing but silently judged. No one approached him. No one spoke to him. Those who passed by offered only fleeting glances, as if weighing his inner worth and deciding he wasn't worth their time.
He hadn't received any real training before arriving. He hadn't been given time to adapt. He was a good listener—perhaps the only thing he had. So he began to listen carefully, trying to absorb anything from the murmured conversations around him… but even that wasn't welcomed. Some ignored him, others grew annoyed. One man turned to him suddenly and said coldly,
"Don't stick your nose where it doesn't belong."
Marcus wanted to respond but chose silence. He didn't know whether that was a warning—or another test.
In a moment of inner frustration, a pressing need to understand, he decided to use his new ability. He hadn't practiced it enough, but this felt like his only chance to read the people around him. He focused… letting himself slip slightly into the perception mode. He observed a man speaking, trying to catch what wasn't being said—the hesitation in his voice, the tension beneath his smile.
But the man stopped abruptly. He turned toward Marcus with a sharp gaze and a curt tone:
"Stop that."
Marcus froze. Even those who weren't part of the conversation turned toward him. Some looked at him with suspicion, others with clear hostility. One muttered,
"Arrogant beginner…"
Marcus withdrew his ability like one pulling a hand from flame. He lowered his gaze. He hadn't expected that his mere desire to understand would be taken as an attack.
He realized then: his ability wasn't just a tool for understanding—it was a blade that could be turned against him. From that moment, he decided to hide it. This world didn't offer second chances easily.
Then, suddenly, a voice echoed across the space, rising from one of the elevated speakers:
"Welcome to the island. You are now within the range of the first Walkers' Trial."
A heavy silence fell. Everyone listened.
"The first trial is simple in concept, complex in meaning: reach the edge of the island. No laws stop you from moving. No one will prevent your return. If you feel unprepared, you may stay. Some remain here for years. Some leave without moving. Some wait for a teacher… If you're lucky, you may find one. If not, you are on your own. The island is open—filled with people, cafés, shops—all under the Walkers' system. No one helps for free."
Marcus felt the words weren't just for everyone—but meant for him specifically, piercing through his own private frequency.
"If you believe you're ready, move. If you choose to wait, sit. But no one will come to carry you. Not in this place."
Marcus lifted his eyes. He looked toward the distance, where nothing could be seen but gray mist… Perhaps, somewhere beyond, the edge awaited.
He didn't know if he was ready.
But he knew one thing:
He couldn't sit forever.