The lights brightened in the dome as the Game Master's chilling speech echoed through every corner of the amphitheater. Once the monitors shut off and the echo died, the silence was deafening. No one moved. No one spoke.

  Then came the reactions.

  Some prayed. Some wept quietly. A few screamed in rage. And some... smiled.

  Gabriel stood still, his face wearing a crooked grin-but his eyes betrayed him. Beneath the smirk was raw fear, silently screaming. Beside him, Drex trembled like a leaf in a storm, his lips mumbling a desperate prayer.

  "I'm too young to die," Drex murmured repeatedly. "No wife, no child, a fucking virgin... I'm gonna die a virgin."

  Gabriel turned to him and smacked the back of his head, not too hard, just enough to snap him out of the spiral.

  "Hey," Gabriel said calmly. "We're not dying here. We'll survive. We'll go back to the Philippines. But only if we follow the rules, keep our heads low, and adapt."

  Drex looked at him, tears forming.

  Gabriel scanned the room. "Besides, we've got bigger problems. Look at them." He subtly pointed. "Some look weak, but most are tall, fit, probably military or trained. This isn't some average training camp. This is war. A slow, organized one."

  Then he pointed at a woman across the dome-the same one who'd shouted at the Game Master earlier.

  "That girl? She's brave. Sharp. Tactical. Could be trouble, could be an asset. We need her as an ally-not an enemy."

  Drex followed his gaze.

  "And that guy over there," Gabriel added, nodding at a man who'd earlier asked about stealing points. "Avoid him. Anyone thinking about sabotage this early? That's poison."

  He dragged Drex forward gently as they began following the herd toward the supply line.

  "You ever wanted to be strong?" Gabriel asked. "This is your chance, Drex. You've always wanted to be someone who could stand up for himself. Well, here it is."

  Drex stopped, hesitating. He looked at Gabriel. The older man's eyes were heavy with worry, but his grin remained.

  "...Let's survive this," Drex whispered.

  A voice from the speaker blared again: "You will now receive your essentials-each of you will be assigned a watch to track your score, your room keycard, and a starter pack. Fall in line."

  The line moved with forced discipline. They each received:

  A black tactical-looking digital watch.

  A sealed pouch of hygiene kits.

  Simple athletic clothes.

  A magnetic keycard with a room number.

  Afterward, the participants were led through the dome in a slow but organized tour.

  It wasn't a camp. It was a self-contained city.

  There were buildings for training, dormitories, a cafeteria, a clinic, armory-looking structures, and even simulated urban zones. Everything was pristine-but clinical, as if designed by a mind obsessed with control. Cameras were mounted everywhere. Drones flew silently overhead.

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  No birds. No bugs. No wind. Just artificial order.

  No windows. Just simulated skies.

  Their final stop was a high-rise condominium building. It looked like something out of a luxury brochure, but the tension in the air made it feel like a prison.

  Gabriel was assigned to Room 318. Drex to Room 417.

  Inside his room, Gabriel placed his things on the small desk. He sat on the bed and looked around-walls too clean, silence too hollow.

  He stood by the glass door leading to the balcony. The cityscape beyond wasn't real. He'd seen too much to pretend it was.

  Escape? Impossible.

  The surveillance was too tight. Guards dressed like civilians. Hidden doors. Drone patrols.

  He needed allies. He needed intel. He needed time.

  For now, he'd observe.

  Later that evening, Gabriel walked to the cafeteria. The smell was plain, like oats and boiled rice. His tray held a tasteless gray porridge. Some trainees didn't hesitate-they ate in silence, accepting it.

  Then came the disruption.

  A tall, bald, muscular man stood and threw his tray at the server.

  "What the fuck is this? You think this is enough for a man like me?"

  The server, wearing a calm expression, answered, "It may lack flavor, but it contains the nutrients to support your training, dog."

  Wrong word.

  The man lunged forward, grabbing the server by the collar. "Dog?! Say that again!"

  But in a blur of motion, the server twisted his attacker's arm, snapped his thumb, and slammed him onto the floor.

  He pinned him down with a knee to the spine.

  "Don't treat us like you did out there," the server growled, calm but deadly. "Everyone here is a professional killer. I just broke your finger. I could've crushed your throat."

  Then, in an act of cruel poetry, he scooped a spoonful of steaming porridge and shoved it into the man's mouth.

  "As punishment-eat this lava of porridge," he said, then returned to serving as if nothing happened.

  Silence returned, heavier now. The trainees sat straighter. Gabriel stared, but he wasn't amazed by the fight. He glanced at Drex-eyes focused, hands still trembling.

  He's changing, Gabriel thought. Slowly.

  Back in their rooms, the trainees rested.

  At dawn, Gabriel woke early. His military habits had never left. He jogged toward the sports facility, needing space to think. But someone was already there-running laps like a machine.

  It was her.

  The woman who'd challenged the Game Master.

  He approached slowly.

  "How long have you been running?" Gabriel asked.

  She shot him a look-sharp, cold. Her voice was low but clear.

  "Two hours."

  He glanced at her watch. No breaks. No sweat.

  She sat on the bench and tied her shoelaces.

  "Why are you here?" she asked, eyes fixed on the laces.

  Gabriel thought a moment. "Money. Or maybe a second shot at life. You?"

  She stood up. "Freedom."

  Gabriel tilted his head. "Name?"

  She glanced back.

  "Ranya. But in my country... they call me Judas."

  She jogged off, vanishing into the mist of the dome.

  Gabriel watched her go, her form steady, relentless.

  She's a runner, he thought. Probably running her whole life-from something.

  Soon after, the rest of the trainees gathered at the field. An instructor approached.

  Gabriel's jaw clenched.

  It was the receptionist.

  She stood confidently, her black sportswear hugging a toned, dangerous frame.

  "I am Violet," she said. "Your physical instructor."

  "You will run 5 kilometers daily this week. We increase weekly. Push-ups. Pull-ups. Core. Bench press. I will assist you for one week. After that, if you collapse, I let you die."

  Some laughed nervously.

  "I'm not joking. If you stay weak, I'll trigger the cancer cells in your implant. You want to be useless forever, that's on you."

  She blew the whistle.

  The run began.

  Some trainees collapsed at 1km. Others struggled at 3km. Only a few finished all 5. Violet tossed small red candies to those near fainting.

  "They'll open your lungs and heart," she said. "But your muscles will scream later."

  After the run, they were led to the saunas and hot spring facility for recovery.

  Gabriel and Drex sat in silence, steam wafting around them.

  Then, someone sat beside Gabriel.

  "You're Filipino military, yeah?"

  Gabriel turned. A lean man with a scar over his lip stared back at him with a crooked grin.

  "I recognize you," he continued. "You killed our men... including my sworn-brother."

  Gabriel's muscles tensed.

  "I'm Vincent," the man said, voice low and venomous. "You're our most wanted. You killed Alikasheed Jalani in Mindanao."

  He leaned closer.

  "Be careful where you go, Gabriel. I'll drag you to hell myself."

  He stood and walked away, whistling.

  Gabriel clenched his fists. The past wasn't just a memory. It had followed him into the dome.

  But so did his resolve.

  He would survive.

  Not just for himself.

  But to finish everything he started.