A different world game? A different world game!

Inside the dome of rules, that bizarre and chaotic space was now filled with an eerie silence.

Countless projections of rules in various shapes still float, flow, and collide like stars, shimmering with the radiance of their origin.

However, in the core area of ​​the space, the first group of trial participants were like creatures frozen in amber, suspended against a soft white light background, each immersed in a completely different "world".

Their forms are enveloped and shaped by the power of the rules they themselves have chosen.

A member of the Church of Holy Light was completely enveloped in a pure, condensed holy light that exuded warmth and majesty.

It formed a perfectly round sphere of light, inside which seemed to be tiny runes flickering, sacred and unfathomable.

Another warrior from the Guardians of Light was enveloped in a dark, viscous, and slowly flowing metallic liquid that seemed to be alive.

It solidified into a rough, human-shaped metal sculpture, gleaming with a cold, hard light.

A Night Watchman was tightly bound by countless chains woven from shadows and starlight, the ends of which disappeared into nothingness, as if he were being dragged into some deep shadow realm.

Others were enveloped in flowing water, leaping flames, and swirling sandstorms...

Their varied forms and bizarre appearances together create a scene that transcends reality, silently telling the multifaceted story of the power of rules.

They are like dormant seeds, nurtured by the fundamental principles of rules, waiting for the moment to break free from their cocoons and transform into butterflies.

In this stillness, a barely perceptible ripple, like the first pebble thrown into a calm lake, quietly spreads out.

Vane, enveloped in a slowly flowing, mercury-like liquid silver metal, suddenly opened his eyes!
"call--!"

A gasp, filled with suppressed emotions and as if breaking free from suffocation, exploded deep within his consciousness.

In the real world, although his body was still, deep within his suddenly opened eyes, there was a sharp golden light, like the edge of a newly forged sword, which flashed by like lightning tearing through chaos.

The moment the golden light faded, the liquid metal enveloping his body seemed to lose its core gravity.

In an instant, it went from a flowing state to stiff and solidified, then contracted, condensed, and shaped again, returning to its original deep, cold, and angular square steel block.

The projection of the rules, symbolizing the very essence of steel, swayed slightly before Varn, as if in a silent confirmation.

Then, like an ink droplet thrown into water, it silently dissipated into the surrounding chaotic white light, completely merging into this sea of ​​rules.

With the restraints released, Varn's body swayed slightly, instinctively adjusting his posture to float steadily in the air once more.

He lowered his head.

He blankly spread out his hands, which were covered in thick calluses and now felt somewhat unfamiliar.

The knuckles unconsciously tighten and relax, feeling the real touch of flesh and blood.

In my mind, there is that long, chaotic "journey" filled with primal instincts and bodily memories.

From flowing lava to deep-buried veins, from forging in furnaces to hammering and refining, from trekking through barren mountains to digging in mines, then to forging on an anvil, and finally to seeking survival with a sword on a bloody battlefield...

The scenes, like faded images, carry a strong sense of unreality, yet are deeply imprinted on the soul.

"A marionette..."

Varn's throat was dry, and the word slipped out uncontrollably.

The feeling of being in a daze from beginning to end, being pulled forward by an invisible force, when recalled after he regained consciousness, gave him an indescribable, instinctive sense of rejection and a slight tremor.

It was as if one's will was being roughly kneaded and shaped, just to fit into some cold and ruthless mold.

He forced himself to take a deep breath, trying to suppress the discomfort.

As I reflected on my experiences during the trials and introspected on my own state, a realization gradually became clear.

"Steel...such grand rules..."

Vain muttered to himself, his voice hoarse and shocked from his recent breakthrough.

He understood that for someone who had only just entered the legendary realm, to fully master the vast domain of "steel"—encompassing material properties, forging techniques, and even spiritual symbolism—was nothing short of a pipe dream.

This trial space did not offer him a ready-made, narrow path of rules, but rather brutally threw him into the source of the vast river of rules known as "steel".

Let him passively experience and instinctively "become" steel itself throughout the entire life cycle of ore's birth, smelting, forging, and shaping.

Rules have no wisdom; they merely instinctively drag the lives that touch their interfaces into their vast and primal "experience."

"Instinct, it's just instinct again."

Varn pondered the word, his eyes filled with complex emotions.

That ignorant and clueless process of digging, forging, and fighting based solely on bodily memory perfectly corresponds to each stage that steel goes through when it is discovered, smelted, forged, and finally becomes a finished product.

Each stage contains a branch of rules that can be understood independently.

The resilience of ore, the destruction and rebirth of lava, the shaping and refining during forging, the conflict and finalization during quenching, the sharpness and protection of weapons...

At the end of this chaotic and bloody path of trials, what he finally grasped was the "branch of rules" represented by the sword he had forged and stained with blood on the battlefield.

The "toughness" of a "steel-made weapon".

It is not indestructible, but rather possesses an indomitable will to maintain its core structure and "weapon" form and function even after enduring tremendous impacts and wear and tear.

This resonated strongly with his experience of physically confronting a powerful enemy on the battlefield and ultimately achieving victory in a desperate situation.

"At least it was a success."

Varn let out a long breath and slowly loosened his clenched fist.

Reaching the legendary realm was like igniting a brand new lamp within him. Although the light was still unstable and the power was still surging, the real feeling of stepping onto a new height filled his heart with a profound sense of security.

Just then, not far from him, Legolas's Hunting Arrow, which was entangled in a "ribbon" woven from flowing light and invisible threads, also trembled slightly.

The dazzling "hunting arrow ribbon" shone brightly for a moment, then, as if it had completed its mission, it turned into fireflies and disappeared.

Legolas opened his eyes, and those sharp eyes belonging to an elven hunter now gleamed with a calm and confident light that came from understanding the true nature of his prey.

On his wrist, a simple leather ribbon, seemingly imbued with endless hunting wisdom and glory, silently appeared—proof of his passing the trial.

A symbolic representation of the rules of archery.

Legolas immediately looked at his wrist, his fingertips gently tracing the ribbon, feeling the power it contained that resonated with his soul.

A genuine, satisfied smile, like that of a hunter after reaping a top-quality catch, appeared on his face.

Immediately, his gaze swept around and he caught sight of Varn, who was also floating not far away and whose aura was now different.

"team leader!"

Legolas's voice carried a hint of exhilaration after his breakthrough. He spoke from a distance that wasn't far away, and without needing to shout, his voice was clearly audible in the quiet space.

He glanced at Varn, then quickly swept his gaze over the other teammates, who were still enveloped by various rules and powers and in different forms, his eyes revealing concern and a hint of barely perceptible pride.

He and the captain were the first two to complete the trial.

Vayne looked at him and nodded, about to ask if Legolas's experience was also "chaotic." However, an irresistible, gentle yet undeniable force of repulsion, like an invisible tide, instantly enveloped the two of them.

"Um?!"

"This is……"

Before they could finish speaking, the two felt the space distort, and the bizarre and fantastical sights before them vanished instantly, replaced by the solid feel of solid ground beneath their feet and the slightly dazzling normal light.

They have been "spit" back into the real world from the mysterious spiritual space of the dome of rules.

At the top of the Tower of Trials is a login platform that connects to the entrance to the Dome of Rules.

Around the platform, the intense gazes of Alyris and other high-ranking officials had long since disappeared, leaving only the researchers in white robes from the alchemy laboratory.

And scholars from the Great Library, carrying heavy notebooks.

Like precision instruments awaiting experimental results, they focused intently on the two who had just appeared, their pens and recording crystals already prepared.

Before the researchers could fully gather around, a familiar figure, accompanied by a gentle breeze, strode quickly to Varn.

Varne's sister.

Her sharp gaze swept quickly over Vain and Legolas beside him, sensing the unique aura of legendary powerhouses emanating from them—auras that, though fluctuating, were distinctly different. A relieved smile finally appeared on her lips.

"Congratulations, two legends."

Her voice was steady and powerful, carrying sincere congratulations.

"It seems that the 'Sky of Rules' has not disappointed you."

She keenly noticed the fluctuating breaths of the two men, like newly lit torches, their light bright yet flickering.

She raised her hand to signal the researchers who were eager to step forward to be patient.

"However, don't rush to answer their questions."

She looked at Varne and Legolas with concern in her eyes, "They've just broken through, their power is still boiling, and the rules within their bodies haven't fully settled yet."

"First, calm your mind and stabilize this power. Legendary power is like a newly forged sword; if its sharpness is too exposed, it can easily hurt you. I'll give you some time."

Both Varn and Legolas understood what their sister meant.

The two exchanged a glance and immediately sat down cross-legged on the spot.

Varn closed his eyes, feeling the new life force within him that surged like molten lava and solidified like steel. He tried to guide and soothe it, allowing it to smoothly integrate into his limbs and bones, merging with his original power system.

Legolas, like a seasoned hunter, adjusted his breathing, smoothing out the transcendent perception brought by the rules of archery and the surging energy within his body, causing the ribbon on his wrist to lose its luster.

This process did not last long, as both of them were already well-established individuals.

About fifteen minutes later, the restlessness in Vain's body completely subsided, leaving only a heavy, unwavering sense of composure.

Legolas, on the other hand, became like a cheetah blending into its environment, its presence barely perceptible, only its eyes becoming deeper and sharper.

Seeing that the two had calmed down, the head of the alchemy laboratory and the chief recorder of the Great Library, at the signal of Sister Varne, gathered around with their assistants.

Their eyes were filled with curiosity, and the recording crystal was pointed at the two of them.

"Lord Varn, Lord Legolas, congratulations on your successful ascension to Legendary status."

The chief recorder spoke respectfully, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

"We are eager to document in detail their experiences within the 'Dome of Rules,' especially their encounters with the rules, the trials they underwent, and the direction of the rules they ultimately comprehended."

"This is crucial for our understanding of how the rules dome works and for subsequent personnel selection."

Varn nodded and spoke first, his voice steady but carrying a hint of barely perceptible confusion:

“My experience… was very ‘chaotic’,” he described as clearly as possible.

"After touching that piece of steel, my consciousness blurred. I felt as if I had become lava, erupted... then cooled, buried deep, dug out... then melted and forged again..."

"Throughout the entire process, I had no memory of 'myself,' like an empty shell, only able to act based on the most primal instincts and the 'memory' of my body: mining, blacksmithing, fighting..."

"It wasn't until he finally killed that Night's Watch warrior on the battlefield that he gradually regained some sense of 'self'."

"It's like...like a piece of iron, being guided by an invisible hand through the entire process of becoming steel and weapons."

He paused, his brow furrowing slightly:
"This feeling... is very uncomfortable. It's like being manipulated and shaped. Although I eventually comprehended the fragments of rules related to the weapon's 'toughness,' the process was far too... passive."

Legolas showed obvious surprise after hearing Varne's description.

He looked at Varne, his tone inquisitive:

"Erased of memory? Acting on instinct? This... my experience is completely different, Captain."

"Oh?" Varn and the surrounding recorders all perked up their ears.

“I was fully conscious and remained ‘self’ throughout the entire process.”

Legolas began to recount the events in detail, speaking at a steady pace and with clear logic, as if he were giving a precise tactical report.

"I chose the 'hunting' rule and entered a hunter's hut. I knew exactly who I was and that I was undergoing a trial."

“I need to use the clues in the notes to track down and hunt down a level 6 behemoth called ‘Iron Predator’ in the forest, but my own strength has been suppressed to level 3.”

He began to describe how he analyzed clues, tracked tracks, avoided secondary predators, set up a series of traps, used bait, modified arrows, and took advantage of the terrain. Ultimately, after making tremendous efforts and employing an almost "ugly" but extremely efficient combination of tactics, he successfully lured the behemoth, which was far beyond his strength at the time, into a death trap.

His account is full of the hunter's strategy, patience, use of the environment, and absolute confidence in his own skills.

"...Finally, I was truly safe when it fell off the cliff and was pierced by a stalagmite. Although the process did not match my perfect image of a 'glorious hunt'."

"But this was an undisputed victory of the weak over the strong, of wisdom crushing brute force. What I learned was the core of the rules of archery: the art of 'capturing the deadly opportunity' and 'the art of environmental hunting'."

Legolas stroked the ribbon on his wrist and concluded.

After listening, Varn remained silent for a moment, a look of realization and deeper contemplation flashing in his eyes.

"Passively becoming a metal blank... Actively transforming into a hunter..."

Varn muttered to himself, as if asking a question.

"It seems that the trials of the Rule Dome are not all the same. The tests it presents may be closely related to the essence of the rules we have chosen?"

The chief recorder was writing down notes rapidly, his eyes growing brighter and brighter, as if he had discovered a new continent.

The older sister listened quietly to the two newly emerged legends whose demeanor had undergone a complete transformation, her gaze deep and thoughtful.

The mysteries of the Rule Dome are slowly being unveiled as the first explorers return.

The starkly different paths of trial taken by Vayne and Legolas undoubtedly provide more information for this exploration. (End of Chapter)