The countdown had ended. Fireworks erupted across the city, illuminating the night sky in bursts of red, gold, and green. Cheers, laughter, and music filled the streets. Most people celebrated without a second thought, unaware of the shadows creeping just beyond the light.
But Samuel — Sam, as he liked to be called — didn't join in. At 20, he had lived a life that most would call ordinary: high debts, a weak body, a boring job, and a sense of futility that seemed permanent. Tonight, though, there was something different in the air, a pulse that he felt deep within himself.
He walked along a quiet city road, the cold winter air brushing against his face. His steps were measured, calm, as though he were moving through a memory he had already lived a hundred times. This street — this exact spot — was where he always woke after regressing, 15 minutes before the Host appeared. The faint glow of the red symbol on his wrist pulsed gently, almost like a heartbeat.
Sam knew tonight would not be like any other night. The Host, the enigmatic entity behind the Games, was about to strike, and his survival would not be guaranteed. But he had something the others didn't: knowledge of the future, earned from countless regressions, whispered to him by the very fabric of time.
Across the city, devices flickered. Screens lit up with ominous words:
"The first Game begins now. Ages 20–30, survival is mandatory."
Panic erupted instantly. People froze mid-celebration as shadows elongated, twisted, and gave birth to monsters — grotesque forms with claws, fangs, and glowing eyes that tore through the streets with terrifying speed. Screams shattered the night, blending with the booming laughter of the unseen Host.
Sam didn't flinch. He had anticipated this. Every pattern, every possible monster movement, every human reaction — he had already lived it in regression. He moved calmly, scanning the streets, planning. Survival first. Coins, levels, and power second.
He knew the rules:
The first Game was a timed challenge — kill 100 monsters in 3 hours to survive.
Monsters were unlimited, but the requirement was minimal to test strategy, skill, and speed.
Survivors received 500 coins from the Host, which could be spent in the real world to enhance strength, speed, agility, stamina, and more.
Those who survived would carry their powers into the real world, becoming stronger than an army of thousands.
As he approached the arena boundary, he felt the pull of the Game world around him. The streets twisted, darkened, and morphed into a surreal battlefield. A holographic screen floated in the sky:
"Objective: Kill 100 monsters within 3 hours. Survival guaranteed only upon completion. Time starts now."
Participants panicked. Some ran blindly. Others froze in fear, caught in the grip of terror. But Sam's red aura flared faintly, giving him clarity.
"100 monsters? That's nothing."
Monsters lunged at participants. One girl screamed as a claw slashed past her shoulder. Another young man tried to fight with a metal pipe and was instantly shredded. Sam moved with precision, dodging and striking. His weak body was irrelevant — his knowledge of the future and calculation of every attack made him untouchable.
Within minutes, he had begun killing monsters efficiently. Unlike the others, he didn't just survive; he dominated. His mind calculated every strike, every dodge, every movement to maximize efficiency.
The leaderboard appeared mid-air, updating in real-time:
Sam: 0 → 8,000 monsters killed in 3 hours (unprecedented)
2nd place: 1,200 monsters
3rd place: 900 monsters
Time ticked down. Most participants barely reached the 100-monster requirement. But Sam finished with ease, breaking all records.
A chime rang, signaling the end of the Game. Participants who had survived — only those who killed the required number — were returned to the real world. Coins jingled in their pockets, marking their survival. Sam materialized back in his small apartment, exhausted but calm.
He counted his coins. 500 from the Host. Time to upgrade: strength, speed, agility, stamina. Each stat would make him stronger, preparing for the next Game.
Outside, fireworks continued, oblivious to the carnage that had just occurred. Sam smiled faintly. The night had been won. But this was only the beginning.
"One month until the next Game… but by then, I'll be untouchable," he whispered.
The faint echo of the Host's laughter lingered in his mind:
"Remember, Samuel… the Games have just begun. Show me your true worth."