Infinite Game - Start With SSS Rank Class

Chapter 237: Arbiter

Deep in the fog, there was a place that didn’t belong to the apartment complex.

It also didn’t resemble the side mission areas that Survivors had ever set foot in. No corridors, no room doors, no System lights, and certainly none of the chaotic noise of people trying to survive.

Only a gray stone path stretching through the fog curtain.

On both sides of the path were old streetlamps, but with no flame inside. They stood still in the fog like corpses of light, their shapes remaining but their reason for existence gone.

Otrix walked along that path.

His old armor produced very small metallic sounds with each step. The sound wasn’t loud, but in this space so quiet it was nearly dead, it rang out with strange clarity.

He carried no lantern.

But the fog still automatically parted before him.

Not out of fear.

But out of recognition.

In this dead zone, there were many frightening things. But there were a few existences that didn’t need to display their power. Their very presence was already a type of rule.

Otrix was one of them.

At the end of the path, a tea table appeared in the fog.

The small round table was covered in a white cloth. On it sat a black teapot, two porcelain cups, and a pocket watch with its lid open. The watch’s hands weren’t moving. They had stopped at some unspecified moment, as if time here had been held back by someone’s hand.

Beside the tea table, a silhouette was seated.

He wore a very neat black formal suit. Long coat, white gloves, polished leather shoes. On his head was a tall black top hat, and in his hand he held a slender cane with a silver tip.

But his face couldn’t be seen clearly.

Not because of darkness.

But because around him there was always a thin layer of fog. That layer of fog was very strange, not thick enough to completely obscure his form, but just enough to make every gaze that fell on his face slide away, unable to retain any features.

He wasn’t a Lamp-Bearer.

Nor an ordinary Survivor.

He was an Arbiter.

Arbiter wasn’t a name.

It was a title.

In the dead zone, Arbiters stood between the rules, maintaining a minimal balance between bets, rounds, Lamp-Bearers, and Survivors. They didn’t need to guide anyone, nor did they directly place bets like Lamp-Bearers. What an Arbiter had to do was ensure the game didn’t collapse before it reached its intended outcome.

That was precisely why Arbiters had power.

But that power also had limits.

An Arbiter could observe.

Could judge.

Could adjust a few small boundary lines to prevent the dead zone from losing balance.

But they were not supposed to personally push pawns into the Survivors’ game board.

Otrix stopped about ten paces from the tea table.

He looked at the man whose face was obscured by fog.

"You’ve crossed a line."

The person sitting by the tea table slightly tilted his head, as if smiling.

"It’s been a long time, Otrix. We’ve barely met again and already you speak such harsh words?"

His voice was very mild.

Not old, not young. It sounded like the voice of a polite gentleman at a dinner party, gentle, refined, carrying no hint of hostility.

But precisely that calmness made this place feel even colder.

Otrix didn’t sit down.

He also didn’t look at the remaining teacup on the table.

"You are the Arbiter of this region."

The other man laughed softly.

"Correct."

"Then you should know your duty is to maintain balance, not interfere in Survivor affairs."

Arbiter lightly tapped the rim of his cup with his fingertip.

Clink.

The very small sound rang out, then was swallowed by the fog.

"Interfered?" He said. "That word choice is a bit severe."

Otrix answered coldly: "You used a level 6 Survivor hiding behind others, had him push Vance to room 2705’s door. Then let Amed observe Rover’s reaction. If that isn’t interference, what would you call it?"

Arbiter was quiet for a moment.

Then he laughed very softly.

"I only dropped a small stone onto the water’s surface."

Otrix looked at him.

"An Arbiter’s duty is to keep the water’s surface from breaking, not to throw stones into it."

Arbiter placed down his teacup.

"Sometimes, to know how deep the water is, dropping a stone is the simplest method."

"That isn’t a reason."

"Then what reason would you like to hear?"

Otrix didn’t immediately answer.

Killing intent began spreading from the gaps in his old armor. It didn’t erupt violently. It only slowly pressed down on the surrounding space, making the lampless streetlamps on both sides of the path emit very small cracking sounds.

Arbiter observed this, but still didn’t stand.

"It seems you care very much about Rover."

Otrix said: "You shouldn’t say his name in that tone."

"Which tone?"

"The tone of someone appraising an item."

Arbiter tilted his head slightly.

A moment later, he said: "But he is standing on a betting table."

"The Lamp-Bearers’ betting table, not an Arbiter’s judgment table."

"That boundary is thinner than you think."

Otrix stepped forward one pace.

The stone beneath his foot cracked.

"I didn’t come here to argue with you."

Arbiter looked at him.

"Then you came to warn me?"

"Yes."

The answer was very short.

But the entire stone path suddenly sank slightly, as if an invisible weight had just been placed on it.

Arbiter slowly leaned back in his chair.

Beneath the thin layer of fog obscuring his face, no one could see his expression. But his voice remained unchanged.

"You know I’m an Arbiter."

"I know."

"Then you should also know, threatening an Arbiter isn’t a wise choice."

Otrix said coldly: "Then you should also know, touching Rover isn’t a clever choice either."

The fog stopped.

In that moment, the entire space seemed to be pressed between two blade edges.

Arbiter was silent for a very long time.

Then he laughed.

"Interesting."

Otrix didn’t laugh.

Arbiter slowly said: "I have no ill will toward him. At least not right now."

"Your ill will doesn’t matter." Otrix said. "Your actions do."

"I only wanted to test how he was."

"Why?"

Arbiter didn’t immediately answer.

He picked up the small silver spoon and gently stirred the teacup before him. The dark tea water didn’t form a whirlpool, instead becoming flat as a mirror’s surface.

After a moment, he said:

"Because he is the son of that person."

The space went completely still.

Even the fog seemed to stop moving.

Otrix stood motionless.

But the killing intent on his body immediately turned so cold it nearly took on physical shape. The cracks in the path surface spread further outward. The streetlamps on both sides began to tilt, as if blown by an invisible wind.

Otrix’s voice dropped low.

"You have no right to mention that person."

Arbiter gently placed the silver spoon down.

"Perhaps."

"Not perhaps."

Otrix stepped forward one more pace.

This time, the tea table before Arbiter trembled. The porcelain cup cracked along a very thin line, dark tea water spilling over the rim and falling onto the white tablecloth like a streak of dried blood.

"Pull your hand back." Otrix said. "Even if you are an Arbiter."

Arbiter looked at the cracked teacup.

He seemed slightly regretful.

"This set of cups was very hard to find."

Otrix didn’t answer.

Arbiter sighed very softly, as if he truly felt sorry about the teacup and not about Otrix’s warning.

"Alright."

He stood up.

His movements were very slow, very courteous. He reached for the tall top hat on his head, removed it, then slightly bowed toward Otrix like a gentleman saying farewell before leaving a dance.

"Otrix, your warning, I’ve heard it."

Otrix looked at him.

"Hearing it isn’t enough."

"Is that so?"

Arbiter smiled faintly.

"Then I’ll be a little clearer. This probing has concluded. I won’t continue sending pawns to room 2705’s door."

"Until when?"

"Until Rover himself steps into the place he needs to step into."

Otrix slightly narrowed his eyes.

Arbiter put the top hat back on.

"You know clearly, he can’t stay in that room forever. If he truly is the son of that person, if he truly received all of your eyes upon him, then sooner or later he will walk out of the dead zone."

He picked up the cane, its silver tip lightly touching the ground.

"When that time comes, it won’t just be me who wants to see him."

Otrix said coldly: "Then wait until that time."

"Of course."

Arbiter smiled.

"I’ve always been very patient."

With those words, he raised the cane and struck it hard into the ground.

BOOM!

A wave of fog exploded from the point where the cane tip met the ground.

Not a shockwave.

But a dense, cold layer of white fog that flooded outward like a rushing tide. It swallowed the tea table, swallowed the streetlamps, swallowed the stone path, and also swallowed the black-suited silhouette.

Otrix stood still in the churning fog.

His old armor didn’t waver at all.

When the fog dissipated, the mysterious man had vanished.

The tea table had also vanished.

Only the cracked porcelain cup remained on the path, with a small amount of dark tea water still inside.

Otrix looked down at that cup.

After a moment, he stepped on it.

Crack.

The porcelain cup shattered.

His voice rang out in the fog.

"Don’t let me encounter you a second time."

No one answered.

But very far away, in another layer of fog, a very faint laugh seemed to ring out and then disappear.