" PLAYER COUNT - 392 "
It felt like falling into a dream with teeth.
One moment, Lyra sat in the cold metal chair of the Numbers Table. The next, her body was weightless again — pulled through a glitching tunnel of stuttering code and flashing red lights.
No up. No down. No sound. Just—
"WELCOME TO OBLIVION"
The words echoed inside her skull, not in her ears. Like the system was whispering straight into her brain.
When she landed, it wasn't with a thud.
It was… soft. Like being dropped into silence.
The room she awoke in wasn't real. Not in any way that made sense.
It stretched endlessly in all directions, filled with floating black tiles. The floor flickered beneath her feet, like walking on unstable reflections. Screens hovered mid-air, rotating slowly. Each showed something different — players screaming, glitching memories, error codes.
Oblivion.
That's what the voice had called it.
Some kind of waiting room between nightmares.
Around her, other survivors from the first game were appearing, one by one, their bodies reassembling in flickers of static.
392 in total.
From 404.
392 survived.
Gasps filled the void. Some collapsed. Some didn't speak. Some were already scanning for exits.
Lyra stayed still.
She watched the boy with silver eyes materialize silently across the space — same distance as always. Like the system knew to keep him close, but untouchable.
Why do you keep showing up?
But then someone new caught her eye.
Player 021.
A girl with ink-black braids and steel eyes. She didn't look scared. She looked… annoyed.
Lyra noticed how she studied the walls, the floating screens, the pacing of the light pulses in the tiles.
"It's a holding pattern," 021 muttered, more to herself than anyone else. "This room resets every thirty seconds."
Lyra approached her. "You've been here before?"
The girl looked at her, mildly amused. "No. I'm just good with systems."
Before Lyra could speak again, a screen lit up above them all. Red text scrolled in eerie silence.
OBLIVION HUB – INTERMISSION
Players: 392 players Remaining
Next Game Initiation: 10 minutes
Game 2: CATCH YOUR BREATH
Gasps rose again. Someone swore. Someone else broke down sobbing.
Lyra glanced at the name.
Catch Your Breath.
It sounded innocent.
Which meant it wouldn't be.
"Why us?" someone shouted suddenly. "Why are we even here?!"
A few players murmured in agreement.
"There's no explanation. Just games. Death. Numbers. What is this?"
No one answered.
Not the system. Not the screens.
And then the silver-eyed boy finally spoke.
Quietly. Clearly.
"This is punishment."
Heads turned. Lyra froze.
It was the first time he had spoken at all.
"This place isn't for entertainment," he continued. "It's correction. Trial. Erasure."
His voice was calm. Too calm.
"Who are you?" Lyra asked, stepping forward.
He looked at her — finally, directly — and said nothing.
Then, as if cued by silence, the room shook.
A glitch pulsed across the tiles. The world blinked.
"Game 2 initializing in 60 seconds."
Tiles fell away, revealing black nothingness beneath.
"GAME 2: CATCH YOUR BREATH"
A countdown began. The screens cracked. A scream echoed from nowhere.
Everyone was pulled backward by invisible force — like gravity had been hacked.
Lyra's final thought before she vanished again was simple.
I can't trust anyone.
Especially not the ones who already understand the rules.