4,000 years ago, the sky cracked apart.
The sound wasn't thunder or falling mountains; it was like the sky itself breaking into pieces, like a giant mirror shattering. Glowing shards fell down, scattering streaks of light and leaving behind strange reflections.
Then came a sickening grinding noise, as if the whole world was being ripped apart. The sound went deep into the spines of those who heard it, filling their hearts with fear. Amid the chaos and screams, a strange dimension appeared.
Soon after, a rip in space glowed with crimson and violet, strange and beautiful, like something out of a fantasy. But that beauty also felt cold and threatening.
Before anyone could understand what was happening, that strange space released something.
A huge black shadow pulled itself out—a shape with no clear form, covered in thousands of eyes staring down, its voice roaring like the depths of hell.
People would come to call these beings "demons."
The demons killed without mercy.
They hunted, tore people apart, and dragged them into darkness. Nothing could stop them—no gun, no bullet, no weapon of any kind.
These creatures weren't in any human records or legends. They were something no one had imagined.
Within weeks, the world was engulfed in fire.
People hoped for a savior, a hero, or someone with powers to fight back. But there was no hope—no superhuman, no special ability, no miracle. This wasn't a story anyone could imagine.
Humanity could only try to survive.
And when weapons failed, negotiation was all that was left.
In fear and despair, the world's leaders met to make a deal with the demons. A deal they couldn't refuse, written in human blood.
A stone tablet was made from human bones and blood, carved with ancient letters no one recognized. The letters glowed cold and eerie, as if alive.
The agreement was clear:
1.Demons wouldn't kill humans outside their realm without reason.
2.Humans would get their freedom back.
3.Each time there was an opportunity, humans would be sent to the Demon Realm, the number varying by country.
4.Humans sent there would go through atomic disintegration.
5.Humans sent to the Demon Realm would be playthings.
6.No one under eighteen could enter, since their bodies aren't strong enough for the disintegration effects.
7.Humans and demons wouldn't interfere in each other's affairs.
8.Breaking any of these rules would lead to massacre.
9.There'd be no relationship between demons and humans.
10.If any race broke the covenant, the deal would end.
11.The leaders of the nations and the Demon King made this covenant.
12.No one could worship any religion.
13.God was declared dead.
After this, peace returned in a way.
Sure, it was horrible to sacrifice some so most could live, but…
Wasn't it the lawbreakers who became playthings?
…
"You're probably wondering what I mean by narrative. I'll explain, but first, your status as playthings."
A voice sounded from above.
A heavy stone tablet was thrown down with a crash, the blood-red sand breaking like human bones snapping.
At the top, words were written in blood:
Rules for Surviving in the Demon Realm.
The humans' eyes widened. Silence swallowed everything. No one moved or made a sound. All stared at the tablet like it was a tombstone marking their fate.
Despair and fear filled the air.
[Rules for Surviving in the Demon Realm]
Everyone stared helplessly at the stone slab.
[Status sets the entire hierarchy, and humans have only one: playthings.]
Playthings: no matter what you were before, playthings are just that—playthings.
They exist to entertain the demons. If you're a "star plaything," you get extra rewards.
"Now that you've read this, let's get to what you're all wondering… how do you get out of here?"
Death's footsteps dragged through the crowd, the sound of a limp corpse scraping the ground echoing in the air.
The dead man's blood dripped, smelling strongly of iron.
Death looked at the terrified crowd, a corner of his mouth curling into a faint smile.
"To give playthings some motivation…" His voice was cold, without emotion.
"We'll give you a way out…"
Silence. Everyone stayed quiet.
"…Among the hundred humans here, and all the humans in this land."
Death put his hand on the corpse, plunged it inside, and pulled something out. Blood covered his hand, but he didn't care.
Chuckling softly, he used the blood to write on the stone tablet.
"If only one survives, that one gets to leave."
[7 rules to obey here]
1.Playthings are playthings. Don't be a nuisance.
2.Good playthings face hardships. Join other demons' "narratives" to entertain them.
3.Narratives are hidden throughout the land. Find and join them.
4.If you don't join a narrative for too long, you die.
5.Each narrative has its own rules. Follow them—probably.
6.After each narrative, there's a death vote. The first is normal; later ones can take any form.
7. ...…
"Sorry, I forgot rule 7. If I remember right… well, doesn't really matter."
Death shook his head, laughing at his poor memory.
The humans reacted differently—some trembled, some froze, some nearly fainted.
Soon Death left.
After he was gone, a heavy silence fell. You could almost hear heartbeats.
"He's gone."
One voice said, but it didn't ease the fear.
The humans slowly nodded. No talking, no laughter, no one stepping forward.
They gathered themselves, and someone suggested introductions.
At that point, few could stay calm, so only six people spoke.
The first was Wesley from Canada, who took the lead.
Next was Ulrich, a big man from Germany with burn scars.
Then Yuria from Australia, Talia from Italy, Chen from Taiwan, and me.
"What now?"
Everyone looked at each other. Only then did they all shake their heads helplessly. No one knew what to do.
Elric saw others trembling—some calling for family, some lamenting, some angry, some praying.
He knew the demon's rules were true, clear from the man's death earlier.
From what Death said, many humans were here, but only one could survive.
Elric was scared but knew he couldn't just stand still. He thought about the "narrative" Death mentioned.
Suddenly, he turned toward the stone tablet and walked straight up to it.
"What are you doing, Elric?"
He looked back. "I think the narrative Death mentioned is probably hidden here somehow. I want to try it."
"Oh?" Wesley followed behind him.
The stone tablet stood tall in the dark place, cracked and scratched as if claws had raked it. Dry blood filled its grooves in twisted, unreadable shapes.
The smell of blood and rot hung heavy, making the air hard to breathe.
The weight in the air grew, and a chill ran down Elric's spine.
He swallowed hard, his hand trembling as he reached out to touch the cold stone. It was icy, but nothing else happened. Everything stayed still and silent.
Wesley stepped closer, looking suspicious, then touched the tablet.
The moment Wesley's finger touched it, everything changed at once.
The world turned bright white—no color, no shadows, no wind. It didn't feel empty; instead, it looked beautiful.
Light with no clear source shimmered quietly, and silence was complete—not even their own breathing could be heard. It felt like a dream that couldn't be touched.
The white space slowly turned into a scene.
Before them lay a small village in a valley. Old wooden houses with thatched roofs. Smoke rose gently from chimneys.
A cool breeze swept the golden grasslands. Wildflowers dotted the fields, giving off a soft fragrance. It was calm and warm, hard to believe they'd come from that terrifying place just moments ago.
Yet, this peaceful scene was strange itself.
On top of the tallest, most worn-down house, another stone tablet stood firmly. The words carved in dark blood sank deep into the stone.
[Narrative of the Peaceful Village]