She left me.
Not just as a girlfriend—
Not just as a friend—
She left like she knew something was coming…
And she couldn't stop it.
I sat there in the booth long after Anna was gone. The arcade noises had faded into background static. Everything felt distant. Cold.
"You're being watched."
"Don't trust anyone."
Her words replayed in my head like a broken record.
And then there was Julia…
A goddess from Olympus straight-up said I wasn't supposed to see her.
And then snapped me out of reality like it was nothing.
So why me? Why am I—
Pain.
Sharp. Sudden. Right across my chest.
I gasped and doubled over in the booth, clutching my ribs. It felt like my skin was on fire—like something inside me was burning its way out.
And then…
I saw it.
Right there on my chest, glowing through my shirt like a brand beneath the fabric:
☠️
A symbol. Black. Smoking. Pulsing with some kind of… energy.
A reaper's mark.
Skull with wings. Surrounded by ancient lettering I couldn't read, but somehow understood:
"Player Recognized."
I stumbled up from the booth, nearly knocking over a tray someone left behind.
A kid glanced at me, then froze. His eyes went wide.
He saw it too.
The mark.
I rushed into the arcade bathroom, slammed the door shut, pulled my shirt off—and there it was, burned into my skin like a tattoo lit from within.
"This has to be a dream. A hallucination. A bad burrito. Something."
But it felt real. Like a brand. Like ownership.
My phone buzzed again.
Not a text.
A notification.
[Welcome to the Grim Reaper Games]
Player: Trey (Marked)
Role: Catalyst
Status: Active
Time until next Phase: 72 hours
Survive. Adapt. Or die.
I dropped the phone.
The screen didn't crack.
Of course it didn't.
This wasn't normal. This wasn't real life.
But somehow… it was mine now.
A strange laugh escaped my lips.
"Of course. Of course I'd get dragged into some cursed magical death tournament after school on a Tuesday."
"Why not?"
My reflection in the mirror looked the same—purple eyes, tired face, growing mustache, dread tips slightly frizzy.
But the light behind those eyes?
Something had changed.
Something was waking up.
Outside the arcade, across the street…
Four shadowed figures stood still in the dusk.
One with glowing red eyes.
One cloaked in bone armor.
One sharpening her claws.
And the last with a scythe slung across his back—grinning.
"All set," the one with the claws purred. "The Catalyst's been chosen."
"About time," the reaper said. "Let the Games begin."