The tunnel spat them out into a cathedral-sized chamber of glass and steel. The floor was alive—panels shifting like pieces of a puzzle, the air thick with static.
No sky, no ground. Just the endless hum of circuitry beneath their feet.
FINAL GAME – "DEATH LAND"
Objective: Reach the Core. Eliminate interference. Survive the Algorithm.
The message flickered across the mirrored walls before dissolving into a thousand smaller reflections—each showing a slightly different version of them.
Some smiled.
Some bled.
Some were already dead.
Jisoo knelt, pressing a hand to the floor. "These tiles… they're reading us. Measuring something."
Rin nodded. "It's learning from our choices again."
"Then we don't hesitate," Minho said, stepping forward. His reflection did the same—except it didn't stop when he did.
The copy grinned. And lunged.
Glass shattered.
The reflection pulled itself free of the mirror—bleeding light, its features half-flickering, half-solid. More followed, clawing their way out one by one. Within seconds, six, then twelve, then countless mirror selves surrounded them.
Elliot exhaled, unflinching. "The Algorithm's evolved. It's making players out of our data."
Harper stumbled back, panic creeping in. "So it's us versus—what, perfect versions?"
Rin drew a sharp breath. "No… worse. Versions that already know how we lose."
The first wave struck.
Minho's double slammed him against the glass, their movements identical—every dodge, every strike anticipated. Jisoo's reflection whispered strategies she hadn't spoken yet. Harper's double cried in the same tone she used when she broke in the King's Trail, forcing her to hesitate.
Matthew clenched his fists. "If they know what we'll do—"
Elliot cut in sharply. "Then we change who we are."
The idea hit like lightning.
Rin caught on immediately. "We go off-script. We break patterns. The system can't predict chaos."
The others nodded, forming a loose circle as the floor reconfigured into a web of shifting tiles.
Every move changed the terrain. Every hesitation cost them space.
Matthew stepped onto a rising platform, shouting over the noise:
"Forget strategy! Do the opposite of what you'd do!"
Minho laughed, wild and breathless, ducking a mirrored blade. "You mean—no plan?"
"Exactly!"
Chaos exploded.
The reflections faltered—just for a heartbeat. But it was enough. The glass cracked beneath their feet, light pouring upward in violent streaks of data, revealing a spiral staircase descending into black.
[NEW OBJECTIVE UNLOCKED: ACCESS THE CORE BELOW]
Harper stared down into the abyss. "What if that's where it wants us to go?"
Matthew didn't look back. "Then it's where we'll end it."
They ran.
Behind them, the mirrors repaired themselves, sealing the battlefield in silence—only the faint sound of digital breath echoing through the air.
And somewhere in that silence, the system whispered to itself:
"Adaptation detected."
"Fear pattern stable."
"Final iteration commencing."