Terror and confusion spread like wildfire as everyone stared up at the hooded figure.
"Death game? Give me a break," one player scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief. "Enough with the marketing, I'm outta here."
He slammed his finger against the frozen log-out button, joined by a few others desperate to escape.
But instead of vanishing from the game, a blood-curdling scream echoed through the arena, filling the air with a chill far colder than the fear already gripping them.
The moment their fingers touched the frozen log-out button, everything changed.
One by one, their necks slit open with a sickening crack, and blood gushed out in torrents, splattering across the ground in a grotesque, unrelenting spray. The air thickened with the metallic scent of death as their bodies crumpled, lifeless.
The world stood still.
Those who watched felt their hearts freeze, a cold, icy grip clenching around their spines. They stared in horror, unable to look away, as the once-living players collapsed into nothing—vanishing into thin air, their forms reduced to small, lifeless boxes. The reality of it hit them all at once.
This wasn't just a game. It was real.
And no one was safe.
Alan stood frozen, his mind struggling to comprehend what he had just witnessed. He had been mere seconds away from tapping the log-out button himself, hoping against hope that this was some twisted prank.
But this wasn't a prank. It is damn real.
The chilling weight of it crashed down on him as the hooded figure, unaffected by the chaos, spoke once more. His voice rang out over the stunned silence, cutting through the terror like a knife.
The figure's voice echoed through the stillness, cold and calculating.
"Over a million players joined this game… and now, only 809,110 remain."
He chuckled, the sound sending a shiver down everyone's spine. "Well, without further ado, before the real game begins… allow me to formally introduce myself."
The figure's grin widened as he spoke, his voice dripping with malice.
"My name is Michael Lee, and as you've probably guessed, I am not the creator of Heaven's Arena."
He paused, letting the tension build before adding with dark amusement, "Let's just say... I'm the hacker."
His words hit like a thunderclap.
A wave of panic surged through the crowd. Whispers spread like wildfire, fear wrapping around every player. Heads turned frantically, eyes wide with terror, as the reality of their situation set in.
"Hacker?" Some players whispered in disbelief.
"A hacker capable of breaking into Heaven's Arena?" one murmured, fear creeping into their voice. "This guy isn't just a pro... he's like a hacking god."
Alan's gaze hardened as he narrowed his eyes at the figure. His mind raced, trying to make sense of it all.
What is he planning?
"It took me twenty years to pull off these hacks," Michael Lee continued, his voice dripping with dark satisfaction. "And now, this world is finally mine."
He grinned wickedly, his eyes gleaming with malicious delight. "As we speak, the CEO and the developers are scrambling to regain control... but it's impossible. Not even the police have the slightest clue where I am. By the time any of you manage to escape this game... you'll have forgotten my name."
His words struck like thunder, rattling the very air. To some, it sounded like a sick joke, but Alan knew—he wasn't kidding.
"Now, you're probably wondering how you'll survive in here," Michael chuckled softly, almost mockingly. "Well, your bodies are part of this virtual reality, just like NPCs. You can eat and survive on the virtual food this world provides. The old players already know the drill."
"Let the game begin, players of Death Game," Michael Lee's voice echoed one last time before he vanished into thin air.
Panic erupted. Screams and sobs spread like wildfire, tearing through the crowd as the reality of their fate sank in. They were trapped, and there was no escape.
"He told us his name because he thinks we'll forget," Alan thought, his mind racing despite the chaos around him. His face tightened with resolve.
In the midst of the panic, he drew his sword, unsheathing it with steady hands. With a quick motion, he opened his sleeve and carved the hacker's name into his hand. A reminder. Something to hold onto.
"When I reach you, Michael Lee, I won't just make you regret this game—I'll make you wish you never existed."
[ LP: 95 ]
"Damn... I forgot we're in a virtual world," Alan muttered, a twinge of fear tightening his chest. He had just lost 5% of his life points, and uncertainty gnawed at him—Would he even survive this?
Before he could process it further, a new screen popped up, hovering above all the remaining players, grabbing his attention.
DING!
<< SURVIVAL GAME: PHASE 1 >>
[ Run Through The Medieval Gate ]
[ Game Begins in: 3 Seconds ]
[ 3 ]
Alan's heart raced. His instinct screamed to run, to outsmart the system and beat the countdown. But before he could move, his eyes shot to the other players who had tried the same—only to fall dead the instant the timer hit zero.
[ 2 ]
Panic surged through him as he watched their bodies dissolve into nothing.
[ 1 ]
Damn it! he thought. I need to move fast!
[ Go! ]
Without another second to lose, Alan sprinted forward.
As Alan ran, he felt the ground tremble beneath his feet. Behind him, cracks began to spread across the earth, growing wider with each passing second. Players who tried to push forward faster only triggered more fissures, and one by one, they were swallowed by the earth, their screams cut short as they disappeared into the dark abyss below. The sound of their voices faded, leaving only the deafening silence of the cracked ground.
The panic intensified, spreading like wildfire through the remaining players. Alan's heart pounded in his chest, his body trembling with every step. His legs felt like they were moving on their own, fueled by pure desperation.
His thoughts echoed in a frantic whisper, "I don't wanna die... I don't wanna die..."
Every crack in the ground sent a jolt of fear through him, urging him to run faster, to escape the inevitable.
Men, women, the young and old—one by one, they fell into the gaping holes beneath the floor. Their cries echoed through the air, a haunting chorus of desperation. In the chaos, players shoved and trampled over each other, desperate to move forward, to escape the growing terror.
Alan didn't run like it was just a game—he ran as if his life depended on it. Every step was a fight for survival, but the others around him were just as desperate, pushing him back, forcing him to slow. The gate was still nowhere in sight.
The cracks in the ground spread faster, now only about ten meters away from Alan.
Damn it. Shit! Shit! Shit! His mind raced as panic gripped him. I... I wanna go home!
In his frantic desperation, he shoved others aside, barely noticing their shocked faces as they stumbled toward the open hole. It wasn't until he saw one of them fall in that the realization hit him like a cold slap—he had just killed someone.
The voices of those he had pushed echoed in his ears, cutting through the chaos.
"Help me!" one cried, her voice trembling with terror as she disappeared into the abyss.
Another voice, deeper, followed, tinged with desperation and regret. "I'm sorry, my wife… I thought I'd be home in time. Take care of my girls…"
Alan's chest tightened, the words slamming into him like a heavy weight. His throat clenched, and tears blurred his vision as he ran.
"I'm sorry... I really am sorry..." he whispered, his breath ragged, the guilt tearing him apart.
His mind flashed to his mom, and his little sister, the promise he made to celebrate her entry into junior high the moment he got back.
But now, in this desperate fight for survival, he had become something he never imagined—a killer, even if by accident.
Please forgive me, Lord... he thought, his heart heavy with guilt. How am I any different from a murderer or a serial killer?
The weight of his actions crushed him, the line between survival and savagery blurring in the chaos.
When Alan finally reached the gate, he froze. It was smaller than he expected, barely big enough to admit ten people per second. A gate so insignificant in size, yet the only hope of escape.
His stomach turned as he watched others, desperate to get through, using their blades to cut down the fallen bodies, clearing the way for themselves. The brutality of it struck him, and for a moment, he couldn't breathe.
This... this isn't how it's supposed to go, Alan thought, panic rising in his chest. This isn't the game I've waited so long for. This is survival... pure survival.
Fighting his way through the frantic crowd, he pushed forward, desperate to reach the gate. But just as he was close, a man shoved him violently, sending him stumbling toward the edge. Alan's legs went numb as he teetered, nearly falling into the open abyss beneath him.
"No... no! Help! Anyone!" Alan screamed, his voice breaking as he plummeted toward the ground below.
But as he fell, a cold realization struck him like a punch to the gut. I did the same to others… pushed them to their deaths. This is my atonement, he thought, the weight of his actions crashing down on him as the ground drew closer.