Chapter – The Beginning of game
A white flash invaded everyone's consciousness.
It wasn't just light—it was an invasion. A direct attack on the mind, erasing thoughts, memories, and senses in a single instant. Then came the silence.
An absolute silence, so heavy it seemed to press on the ears from within. For a few seconds—or minutes, no one could say—no one breathed. No one moved. It was as if the very concept of time had been torn from its place.
When vision finally adjusted, reality revealed its absurdity.
They were floating.
There was no ground. No sky. No horizon. Just an infinite void filled with a solid white light, almost blinding, that seemed to exist in all directions simultaneously. It wasn't clear if that space had limits—or if it was a dimension created only to swallow consciousnesses.
Steve felt his stomach turn.
His body didn't fall, didn't rise, didn't spin. Just... existed. An unnatural state that made his brain scream that something was wrong.
Beside him, Kuto kept his arms rigid, eyes alert, trying to understand patterns where perhaps none existed. Julia breathed deeply, fists clenched, forcing her own body not to panic.
Around them, more people appeared—hundreds.
Two hundred and forty-eight, to be exact.
Young people, adults, men, women. Common clothes. Broken expressions. Some cried silently, others spun their bodies desperately, as if hoping to touch something solid. Some shouted names. Some prayed. Some simply stared at the void, already defeated.
— What... what is this?! — shouted a guy with dark glasses, his voice failing. He extended his hands, opening and closing his fingers, as if he could grab the air.
— Is this some kind of reality show?! — a woman in a suit shouted, trying to impose authority. — Where are the cameras?!
No one answered.
The murmurs grew. Turned into screams. Chaos spread like fire in dry straw. Some tried to "run" in the void, colliding with each other. Others remained motionless, fear keeping them trapped inside their own bodies.
Then... something changed.
The white light above them distorted.
A figure appeared, floating naturally, as if that void were its home.
It was a young man, with messy red hair, vibrant as flames. He wore simple clothes—white pants, black shirt—and a smile too relaxed for someone before almost two hundred and fifty people in panic.
— Yoooo! — his voice echoed throughout the space, clear, too amused. — Greetings, champions of Nexus!
Silence fell like a blade.
All eyes turned to him.
— I'm Zeylor — he continued, opening his arms theatrically. — The host of this controlled experience... and slightly insane.
— Experience?! — someone shouted. — You kidnapped us, you sick freak!
— I have family! Work! — another yelled. — Get me out of here now!
Zeylor tilted his head, thoughtful, and then laughed. A soft laugh, almost musical... and completely wrong for that moment.
— Ah... leave. — He sighed. — That's no longer an option.
The air seemed to get heavier.
— In here, real time is suspended. Out there? A minute passes. In here... — he smiled — each minute will be felt like an entire day.
Panic exploded.
Cries. Screams. People grabbing onto each other. An older man pressed his chest, panting, eyes wide with terror.
Steve felt his heart race.
His breathing became short, uncontrolled. The image of the hospital room appeared in his mind—the smell of medicine, the sound of machines, his mother's weak hand holding his.
"I just needed the money..."
"Just that..."
— Does this game really pay a billion to the winner? — Kuto's voice cut through the chaos.
Zeylor spun slowly in the air, looking at him with interest.
— Yes. A billion. — His eyes shone. — But only if you survive until the end. Survival is the keyword.
— And if someone dies here? — asked a young woman, almost in a whisper.
Zeylor snapped his fingers.
— Then they die out there too. The body becomes corrupted code. Poof. Never comes back.
The collective scream echoed through the void.
Steve felt his legs fail.
— No... — he murmured, his voice broken. — No... this can't...
Tears came before he could stop them.
— I just wanted to take care of my mother... — his voice failed. — NESIN! — he shouted, overcome by despair. — You put me in this!
Zeylor did a somersault in the air, laughing.
— Calm down, champion. — He pointed to the group. — You have one hour to choose your classes. After that... the game really begins.
Holograms appeared around each player, spinning slowly.
Classes.
Decisions.
Destiny.
And Steve, trembling, realized something with absolute terror:
That choice would define who would live...
and who would die first.
---
The white void seemed quieter now.
Not because the fear had diminished—but because it had settled in. Like a disease. Like something permanent.
The holograms floated before each player, spinning slowly, offering possibilities, promises, beautiful lies. Some touched their choices almost immediately, like someone grabbing a buoy in the open sea. Others hesitated, but ended up deciding, pressed by invisible time.
Steve couldn't move.
The hologram before him changed brightness, as if insisting on being noticed. Classes. Paths. Survival. All of it seemed too distant, too unreal, too heavy.
His heart beat hard. Fast. Painful.
His mind wouldn't stop.
The image of his mother lying in the hospital bed came back in short flashes: the IV dripping, the monitor beeping, tired eyes trying to smile to reassure him.
"Just a little longer..."
"Everything will be fine..."
Lie.
He remembered the app. The name that promised easy money. The hurried touch on the phone. The foolish hope of solving everything with a stroke of luck.
And now... this.
— Steve... — Julia's voice reached him, distant. — Choose already.
He tried to respond. His mouth opened. No sound came out.
His hands trembled as if they had lost any connection with his brain. His entire body seemed heavy, as if gravity had finally decided to collect from him there, in that non-place.
Kuto had already made his choice. The energy around him seemed more stable, more solid. Julia too—firm, focused, breathing like someone accepting the coming war.
Steve felt shame.
Shame for being weak.
Shame for being afraid.
Shame for not even being able to touch a damn sphere of light.
Time was running.
There was no clock. But he felt it. Each second was a hammer hitting his head. Each beat said the same thing: it's ending... it's ending... it's ending...
Then, the space distorted again.
Zeylor reappeared, emerging in the white sky with an exaggerated pirouette, like a presenter entering the stage.
— Very well, dear players! — he announced, too animated. — The class selection time is over!
Some sighed with relief. Others smiled nervously. There was even timid applause—people clinging to the illusion of control.
Zeylor opened his arms.
— For those who chose... congratulations. — He winked. — For those who didn't...
His smile widened.
— You're screwed.
The words went through Steve like a shot.
You're screwed.
Screwed.
Screwed.
The echo repeated in his mind, distorted, cruel. Sweat ran down his face, his back, as if he had run a marathon. His legs became too weak to support him.
Even so, he forced his voice out.
— H-hey... — he shouted, his voice failing in the middle of the chaos. — Mister Zeylor...!
Some players looked at him. Others looked away, like someone who doesn't want to get involved with a condemned man.
— And for those who couldn't choose... — Steve swallowed hard, his chest hurting. — Isn't there... isn't there a way to help? Some way to survive?
Zeylor tilted his head, pretending to think.
Then he laughed out loud.
— Help? — He brought his hand to his chest, theatrical. — Haha! Champion, the game is exactly about that. Those who don't choose... learn the hard way. Or die trying.
He approached Steve, his red eyes shining.
— Good luck. — He whispered. — You're going to need a miracle.
Something broke.
Steve fell to his knees.
It wasn't a dramatic gesture. It was muscular failure. It was the body giving up before the mind. The void around seemed to spin, distorted, while a crushing weight settled in his chest.
"It's over..."
"I failed..."
"Sorry, Mom..."
Zeylor snapped his fingers.
The light exploded.
The players' bodies began to glow with absurd intensity, digital lines appearing on their skin, energy cracks running through arms, faces, eyes.
— So this is it — Zeylor announced, animated. — Our goodbye.
He spun slowly in the air.
— We'll meet again in this same place... of course, only those who survive until reaching level 100.
Bodies began to dissolve.
Digital particles detached from their skin, floating like luminous ashes. A player shouted, furious:
— You idiot! There are more things you didn't tell us!
Zeylor just smiled.
— There always are.
One by one, they disappeared.
Julia.
Kuto.
Strangers.
Until only Steve remained.
He didn't resist. Didn't scream. Just watched his own hands come undone, his fingers turning to light, his body losing form.
— Remember — Zeylor's voice echoed for the last time. — You don't have all the time in the world.
The white swallowed everything.
---
Pain came first.
Then, the smell.
Damp earth. Blood. Something rotten.
Steve opened his eyes with difficulty, his body heavy, lying on leaves and roots. The sky above was green, filtered through dense canopies. The air was cold... and too real.
He tried to move.
He succeeded.
His heart raced.
Then he saw.
A few meters away, with its back to him, an enormous creature with greenish skin and grotesque muscles held a partially torn human body.
The sound of flesh being torn.
The cracking of bones.
The metallic smell of blood.
Steve froze.
Fear wasn't a scream. It was absolute silence inside his head. His hands trembled. His breathing stopped. The entire world came down to that thing... and the brutal certainty:
The pain was real.
Death was real.
And he was completely defenseless.
The game...
...had just begun.