But nobody was buying what the businessman was selling.
"Right," scoffed a heavyset guy, stepping forward without an ounce of diplomacy. "You talk a big game for some insurance salesman. You won't even tell us your name, but you want us to trust you? Fine—lead by example. Tell us what your item does first. Otherwise, how do we know you're not planning to screw us over?"
The logic was sound, even if brutally delivered. They were all first-timers, but survival instinct ran deep. The items from their Newcomer Starter Packs were their lifelines—maybe their only lifelines. No way in hell they'd reveal that kind of intel to strangers.
The businessman opened his mouth, managed to stammer out that his name was "Miles Shaw," then clammed up completely. Whatever item he'd pulled, he wasn't sharing.
The few players who'd been warming up to his whole cooperation-and-teamwork pitch immediately shut down. Yeah, right. Why should they expose their hand when he wouldn't show his cards?
Miles didn't push it. "Fine. Have it your way. Everyone, back to your rooms. Five minutes until lights-out, then you're on your own."
With alliance talks dead in the water, he stalked off to Room 207, fishing out his key with obvious irritation.
Autumn Reed, a girl in a school uniform, stood nearby, blinking with that particular brand of wide-eyed confusion that screamed way too trusting for this place. She'd been listening to all the talk about items and skills, glancing down at her starter pack ability—Twin-Strike Kick—like she was trying to solve a puzzle. Something clicked behind those innocent eyes, and she went quiet, slipping into Room 203 without another word.
Outside the windows, the white light was fading fast.
Ethan closed the door to Room 204 behind him, but instead of retreating to the far corner, he planted himself right against the door. The hand axe and wooden buckler lay within arm's reach—close enough to grab in a heartbeat.
Ever since he'd unlocked Eye of Truth, focusing on objects that revealed hidden information. When he concentrated on the axe, text appeared:
[Hand Axe: A thoughtful welcome gift from the management of Bliss Apartments. Don't be shy—use it freely!]
[Wooden Buckler: In a pinch, this might save your life. Say thank you to the nice shield! (P.S. Don't rely on it too much.)]
The axe and shield weren't technically items—just standard room equipment. During the day, Ethan had tested his ability discreetly. None of the others could see the descriptions he saw, which gave him a serious intel advantage.
For starters, this place was called "Bliss Apartments," though they were trapped on the second floor with no way down. Either this scenario only needed one hallway to function, or the other floors belonged to different instances entirely.
Ethan stayed put by the door instead of hiding in the back corner. The room was barely big enough for a bed anyway—nowhere to run if things went sideways. At least here, he could listen for movement outside and gather intel when the so-called "hunter" made its debut.
His eyes flicked to the floating text in his peripheral vision, tracking the live chat from whatever sick audience was watching this unfold:
[How much longer until dark? I'm getting impatient!]
[Almost time! Thirty seconds left! Let the bloodbath begin! Hahahaha!]
[Hope the hunter brings the gore. I want to record this for my collection.]
The hallway had gone dead quiet after everyone retreated to their rooms. When the five-minute countdown hit zero, the last traces of daylight vanished from the windows. The corridor plunged into absolute darkness.
CREAK.
In perfect silence, even the smallest sound echoed and amplified off the narrow walls.
[Here we go! Hunter deployed!]
[Spawn point looks like it's near Room 208.
[Finally! Any more stalling and I was switching to the 'Meat Cannery' stream.]
[Just came from there—Meat Cannery lives up to its reputation as a Tier-A meat grinder. Made me sick to my stomach, so I'm here for something lighter.]
[I love the heavy gore! Thanks for the tip! Switching over now.]
[Hunter deployed. Count: 1]
Scritch—scritch—scriiitch.
The sound of something sharp dragging across the floor drifted through the door.
The creature materialized from the wall near Room 208, moving methodically past 207, 206, and each door in sequence. It seemed to take sadistic pleasure in stopping at every room, circling like a predator testing the air—but never quite committing to an attack.
Each door had a peephole, practically begging the trapped players to take a peek. Ethan kept his covered, worried that making eye contact might draw the thing's attention. Instead, he relied on the live chat to track its movements.
A few minutes later, the sound of splintering wood echoed down the hallway, followed by a blood-curdling scream. Combat noises—brief and one-sided. Too far away to pinpoint exactly which room.
[Who was in 201? Poor bastard.]
[Wasn't paying attention—too busy watching the hottie in 203. Gotta say, these low-tier worlds might be backwards, but they produce some gorgeous girls. That student's barely legal and already a knockout. Imagine her in a few years.]
[Assuming she survives this round, which is a big if.]
[Back to the earlier question—201 was the heavyset guy. Damn, what a way to go.]
[Now I'm curious. Which camera feed covers that area? I want to see the carnage.]
Room 201. The heavyset guy who'd called out Miles.
Ethan filed the information away but stayed put. The system hadn't announced dawn yet, and he wasn't about to risk his neck on a scouting mission.
Inside Room 207, Miles Shaw pressed his back against the door, hands trembling as he clutched his wrinkled suit jacket. Getting called out for his alliance scheme had stung, but the other players weren't wrong—his motives hadn't been entirely pure.
His starter item was absolute trash:
[Jerky Strip (Pack)]
[Category: Item (White, Consumable)]
[Effect: Temporarily increases Strength by 1 for one minute]
[Restriction: None]
[Description: Chewy goodness!]
Miles had a base Strength of 4. The jerky bumped it to 5 for exactly sixty seconds, with no stacking allowed. What was the point? He could drink a glass of water, and it would stay in his system longer than this garbage buff.
The only saving grace was that each pack contained five strips, but even that felt like a cruel joke.
Misery loves company. Miles couldn't shake the gnawing suspicion that everyone else had pulled better items, and he'd gotten the short end of the stick. The curiosity was eating him alive.
Now, listening to something prowl past his door with the sound of claws on concrete, Miles felt his heart hammering against his ribs. Thank god the hunter kept moving. As for whatever poor soul was screaming their lungs out—well, that wasn't his problem.
After what felt like an eternity, the creature retreated through the same wall it had emerged from, apparently satisfied with its single kill.
[Dawn has broken! Hunter has withdrawn.]
The announcement had barely finished before doors flew open in unison. Everyone spilled into the hallway, following the trail of blood that led straight to Room 201.
The wooden door hung at a twisted angle, barely clinging to its hinges. In the center, about three feet from the bottom, a gaping hole had been carved out—roughly a foot wide, surrounded by chunks of meat and splattered gore.
The story wrote itself in visceral detail. The hunter had punched through the door, slaughtered the occupant, and then dragged the corpse back through that narrow opening, piece by bloody piece.