Prologue THE MAN
⚠️ Warning: This chapter contains scenes of violence. Reader discretion advised.
The author takes no responsibility for your nightmares ⚠️
Two hooded men were walking toward me, fast. At first, I thought they were just homeless guys-another shadow in the night. I was dead wrong. They were mercenaries. Their movements were cold. Surgical.
Without a word, they pulled pistols from under their cloaks and aimed at me. The metal flashed for a split second under the streetlights before the sharp crack of gunshots tore through the silence. I took two bullets, point-blank. The pain was an unbearable burn... then... nothing.
How did I know they were going to shoot? Because they'd been following me all evening. I felt their eyes on my back, hiding in every dark alley, patiently waiting until I was alone to take me out.
At least, that's what I thought... before I opened my eyes again.
I woke up with a gasp in a sterile white room, my body completely free. No blood. No wounds. Around me, other people were groggily coming out of a forced sleep. Shock and confusion were written on every face: like me, they'd just come back from nothing.
My eyes scanned this strange group.
First, there was this man. A man who looked like he'd expired a long time ago. If I'd seen his passport, "EXPIRED" would've been stamped where his birth date should be. His face was a parchment of wrinkles, his eyes weary from decades of secrets. In my head, I gave him only one name: "The Old Man."
Right next to The Old Man, my attention was caught by a young woman with jet-black hair. She looked completely disoriented, her trembling hands betraying an inner panic she was desperately trying to contain. She couldn't have been older than 19. In this chaos, she seemed so vulnerable that I couldn't help but name her: "The Lost Girl."
Further on, a stark contrast: a man in his twenties, all round edges, who looked like he'd been ripped from his couch in the middle of a meal. He was breathing heavily, his gaze empty. He seemed like a harmless big guy, a little too soft for whatever was coming. To me, he instantly became "Lardass."
But danger was never far. Another guy, about 25, stood out completely. With his delinquent swagger and his shifty but aggressive stare, nothing about him was clean. You could tell he'd do anything to get out of this. A real "Scumbag."
Strangely, a duo stood apart. A 19-year-old girl still wearing an apron, like she'd just left work. Beside her, a 20-year-old guy in a bathrobe held her hand tightly, as if to reassure himself. An unlikely couple. I named them "The Baker" and "The Mangaka."
Right behind them was the guy with glasses. He had to be around 22, but his face was twisted with a gnawing anxiety, deeper than the others'. He couldn't stay still, his eyes darting desperately for an exit that didn't exist. I tagged him immediately: "The Coward."
In total contrast, a man around 26 stood motionless, arms crossed over an imposing frame. Muscular, steel gaze, he already seemed to be plotting a combat strategy, unfazed by the chaos. Him? That was "The Gorilla."
My gaze then slid to a strikingly beautiful woman. About 23, with a regal bearing, she radiated an aura of nobility that had no business being in this grim room. Even here, she looked like she was waiting to be served. To me, she became "Princess."
And finally, there was me. At 18 years old, I stood there, motionless, methodically analyzing every face, every detail, as if my life depended on it-because it probably did. Who was I among these strangers? Just another lost newbie? No. I was the one watching them all.
Suddenly, a man approached us with a calm, almost casual step. He looked at each of us in turn, an enigmatic smile on his lips, before breaking the silence with a voice that made the whole room shiver.
The man let out a dry, almost demonic laugh that echoed off the spotless walls.
"Hahaha... Ladies and gentlemen, I have the pleasure-and the horror-of announcing that you are officially participants in the Death Game."
A deathly silence settled in. He continued in an icy tone:
"You will have to fight each other. To help you, we will grant you powers. These gifts will awaken the instant you drink the vial I'm about to hand you."
Like a single shockwave, a collective scream rose in the room:
"WHAT???"
But the man didn't answer. His smile widened as he watched us like lab rats.
To be continued
Author's Note: To help you navigate this chaos, I've chosen to name these characters based on my own observations. Instead of racking your brain trying to remember complex names, you can dive straight into the intensity of this story. Follow me... the real game is just beginning.
