The rules had shifted.
The game was no longer just survival, it was a hunt. And now, every student was part of it.
Their new task: Find Player 2. And kill them.
But they didn't even know who or what Player 2 was. Was it one of them? Someone hiding in plain sight? Or something far worse?
No one had answers. The voice hadn't offered any clarity, only commands.
Move when told. Stop when told.
That was it. No direction, no destination. Just obedience.
Which meant… anyone you ran into could be the target. Or worse, a threat. Suspicions spread like wildfire. The moment you even thought someone might be Player 2… you were forced to act.
Kill, or be killed.
But me? I already knew.
Somewhere deep down, with a certainty I couldn't shake, I was Player 2.
Because everything about this game pointed back to me. Every shift. Every voice. Every move.
Whoever was behind this… they weren't after a body count. They were after me. Whether it was for attention, obsession, or something far more dangerous, I didn't care anymore.
I had made my decision.
I was gonna step into the game to face the one pulling the strings. Saving the students is no longer the my goal but defeating the mastermind was.
And if saving them means earning their trust and proving I am not just a destroyer? Then even if it means becoming the very thing they fear, I'll do it. I'm going to use these very students to bait him.
While he plays his twisted game, thinking he holds all the cards, I'll be rewriting the rules and pull him into mine.
He can't tell them who Player 2 is. Not directly. Maybe he's not allowed to. Maybe he enjoys the suspense. Or maybe… he's waiting for the perfect moment.
Either way, I'm not giving him the chance. Before he gets the words out, I'll move and strike first.
I'll crush him before he crushes me.
Whatever he's after, whatever plan he's woven around this nightmare, I won't let him have it.
Not without a fight.
Not without bleeding for it.
I began murmuring to myself, the world around me fading into a blur as my mind spiraled hawk-like, circling a plan.
I had forgotten about the injured girl.
My thoughts had dragged me under, drowning in calculations.
"When we first entered these woods, we were all told to scatter. Most students were pushed forward or to the left. But I was sent to the right.
Only me.
That wasn't random. Which means... there's something on the left, something Player 1 didn't want me near.
A location, a clue, maybe even the truth, so my first move... is to head left.
But then comes the problem of these cursed, shifting trees. They react to movement, or maybe thought, or maybe they're tied to something deeper I haven't grasped yet."
Before I could map it out further, a voice broke the silence.
Very quiet, softer than a whisper.
"Help me…"
I snapped back to reality, eyes swinging toward the girl. She was barely unconscious, slumped against a crooked tree, her limbs trembling, her breath shallow.
While I was spiraling in silence… she had been slipping toward death.
A wave of guilt clawed at my throat.
I thought of moving forward but hesitated, not because I didn't want to help but because if she recognized me... she'd panic. Like the others. Scream, maybe run, even if her legs couldn't carry her.
That's all anyone's done lately.
But then she lifted her head. Bleeding. Bruised. And still calling to me.
"Help me…" she said again, her fingers twitching weakly toward her side. "My bag…"
I moved, cautious but committed.
Whatever came next, freakout or not I had to be ready for it.
She cried again, her voice hoarse. "Please…"
Her shaking hand pointed again, toward the bag slung loosely off her shoulder.
"You want me to open it?" I asked, my voice lower than usual.
She nodded slowly. Barely more than a breath.
I knelt beside her, my eyes not leaving hers, and reached for the bag.
I pulled it off her shoulder carefully, then unzipped it.
To my surprise. Well, as they say, Girls will be girls.
She had two sets of clothes, some bandages, and those wound-cleaning things. Acceptance? Antiseptic? Whatever they were called.
A roll of gauze. Even a compact makeup kit tucked inside, half-used but clean. Practical… yet still personal.
Before I could speak, her head tilted sideways, eyes fluttering closed.
She'd lost too much blood.
Her breathing turned shallow, and in that moment, I hesitated. My fingers froze on the edge of the kit. What should I do? What could I do?
Her shirt was soaked through, sticking to her skin like a second layer of blood. I couldn't treat her wounds like that. Not like this.
There was no clean water. No privacy. No time.
So I did what I had to.
Please forgive me for this.
I exhaled once, low and steady, then carefully tore open her shirt, my jaw tightening. She had an inner top thankfully covering her chest. My eyes stayed on the wound. Just the wound.
The gash in her stomach ran deep, but not wide. It had crusted along the edges. Still dangerously bleeding.
I cleaned it slowly, wiping away dried blood with the cleaner, careful not to press too hard. She neither flinched nor moved, and that frightened me more than any reaction could.
Once it was as clean as I could manage, I wrapped it in fresh gauze and tied it snug.
After cleaning the wound on her stomach, my eyes drifted to the dagger still lodged deep in her thigh.
I hesitated.
If I waited too long or handled it too gently, she could bleed out. But if I rushed it carelessly, I could do even more damage.
My grip tightened. I exhaled, steadying my hands, and pulled the blade out in one swift, controlled motion. Her body twitched, reflexively, but she remained unconscious. Blood surged instantly but I pressed it down with both palms, holding pressure hard until the flow slowed. Then I began cleaning the wound with what little solution she had left, wiping it gently but quickly, hoping she wouldn't wake and scream.
I applied the remaining bandages, firm but careful, then checked her breathing. Still there, shallow, but steady.
Then, working quickly, I slipped off her blood-soaked clothing and changed her into the clean set she'd packed, simple, practical. Nothing too revealing. Just enough to keep her warm and covered.
It wasn't graceful. But it was necessary.
When I was done, I crouched beside her for a moment, watching her chest rise and fall, steady but weak. She was still unconscious. And would probably stay that way for a while.
I couldn't leave her here, not now.
So I slung her bag across my shoulder and lifted her into my arms. She was lighter than she looked.
I turned my gaze toward the forest.
Forward was blocked. The trees still twisted unnaturally, swaying like they breathed. But behind me… the trees were still.
So that's the way I went.
Back along the only line that didn't shift, then left. Toward whatever Player 1 didn't want me to find.
The mastermind, Player 1 had gone silent. Maybe he was giving the students time to stew, to whisper guesses, to point fingers and wonder who among them was Player 2. But while his voice faded into quiet, I moved just as silently… toward the left.
I had been walking for a while now, carrying her in my arms. Her unconscious body grew lighter with each step. Somewhere along the way, her breath grew softer, then came the quietest snores, almost rhythmic. She curled deeper into my chest, like it was the safest place she'd ever known.
---
Then the voice echoed, the so-called Player 1. Coiling through the trees like mist.
"Now, howling cubs. Have you figured it out?"
Students whispered, not to him, but to themselves.
"Who is this Player 2 anyway?"
"What does he look like?"
"Is he one of us?"
But of course even if he knew, that was the one question he'd never answer.
"Now," he said, tone sharpening, "you're going to move as I count. One to ten."
"You stop before ten… you're in."
"You move after ten… you're out."
His voice dropped, low and cold.
"You can go in any direction from where you are… but don't go farther than you should."
---
This wasn't about progress anymore, it was a game of control. Instead of moving forward freely, they were being forced to move only when he counted. And stop when he said so.
It wasn't a strategy but manipulation. And it was only getting tougher… and scarier.
But that was exactly what could work to my advantage.
He could control when we moved but not where. And that was enough.
Because everyone out here had their own idea of who Player 2 might be.
Some would suspect strangers. Others, their closest allies.
And me? I was going to use that uncertainty like a blade and turn it against him.
All I needed was the right time and the right place.