Chapter 6: Games 1

Chapter 6: Games 1

"Okay, I'm turning on all the balls' timers now. Good luck," the dog-faced masked man announced. The screen faded from his masked visage to a black, surreal image.

He could see them, but they could not see him.

An awkward silence filled the room as everyone exchanged nervous glances. Then, the balls in their hands began to glow a menacing red, and instinct kicked in.

Miya dropped his ball and nudged it to stop the glow. It worked.

'I need to keep the ball in motion, steady kinetic energy is the key,' Miya thought. 'If I kick it upward constantly, it might slip from my grasp... But if I can get closer to a wall and gently kick it to rebound towards me, this might just work.'

Scanning the room, Miya spotted the nearest wall and began moving towards it with cautious, deliberate steps, guiding the ball with thoughts of survival as his motivation.

"Sorry," the screen flickered back on, revealing the dog-faced masked man again. "There's one last rule: if half of you are still standing when the five minutes are up, you'll all be eliminated. I don't know how you'll do it, but if you want to survive... it's your choice."

The screen went dark again, revealing a timer at four minutes and fifty-eight seconds.

'Damn, I need to stay away from—' Miya's thoughts shattered as he saw a fellow player abandon his own ball and rush toward him.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Miya shouted, trying to shield his ball. But it was too late; the other player kicked it hard, sending it skidding across the room.

"Go fetch, dog!" the player sneered before running back to his own ball.

'Shit! He's trying to eliminate me!' Miya thought, panic seizing him as he watched his ball bounce and roll, finally coming to a stop twelve yards away. 'It's too far!'

He sprinted towards it, pushing his legs to their limit. Despite his effort, a voice inside screamed that it was futile; the distance was too great.

Rick, a striker with yellow hair and a lanky frame, witnessed Miya's plight. He felt a knot of anxiety twist in his stomach. 'Will someone try to take my ball too?' He glanced around the room, watching others tackling each other for control of their balls. The scene was chaotic, like some twisted version of soccer.

Not wanting to be caught off guard, Rick picked up his ball and held it tightly. 'As long as I keep applying force, it won't explode.'

Just then, another player rushed towards him, balancing his ball between his feet. "What kind of game is this? Is it football or American football?!"

The newcomer seemed furious, perhaps aiming to score his first elimination and become a veteran. Unfortunately for him, that was not to be.

"Um, you might not need to do any of that," Rick stammered, "You can hold your ball in your hands like—"

BOOM!

An explosion rocked the room, sending five players crashing to the ground. Rick was among them, his ears ringing from the blast.

'Damn, my ears are ringing,' he thought, disoriented.

The attacker who had targeted Rick struggled to regain his balance, his eyes wide with shock. He glanced around frantically, realizing his ball was missing. 'Where is it? Could it have been blown away by the explosion?' Desperation filled his mind as he scanned the room. He wasn't alone; two others were also searching for their balls.

"Hey Senpai! I've got your balls!" A player with long pink hair called out from across the room. He held three balls—two glowing red and one jet black.

"NOOOOOOOOO!!!"

"Please don't!"

"You bastard! Don't let them explode!"

The pink-haired player grinned as they raced towards him, panic etched on their faces. "Why would I give them back so easily? This is what football looks like on TV," he sneered, throwing his head back in laughter. "I've never felt like this watching a game before! Is this what Nema feels like when he scores?"

The striker who had tried to steal Rick's ball felt a pang of regret. If only he hadn't gone after someone else's ball, maybe he could have avoided the explosion. 'Damn! Sorry, big sis. Looks like I won't be coming home. I'm sorry for wasting all the money you paid for college... It's been a ride.'

Tears welled in his eyes, but he kept running, driven by a desperate will to survive, alongside the others.

"Maybe I should stop joking around," the pink-haired player mused, glancing down at the balls. As he tried to deactivate them, they all blinked red.

'Which one is mine? My life is on the line here too...'

BOOM!

The explosion sent the three strikers sprawling, their collars detonating and leaving them limbless, their bodies charred.

With the balls now darkened, the pink-haired player identified his own and kicked it into the air, stopping his timer. He scanned the room for new targets—two strikers were engaged in a fast-paced duel, displaying skillful moves. Another group of three was busy dribbling around...

"Next target."

***

Miya felt his lungs burn and his legs scream in protest, still several yards away from his ball. It was ticking towards its third blink, signaling imminent danger.

"I won't make it!" he shouted, yanking off his left boot in a desperate move. 'It's counted three!'

Heart pounding, Miya hurled his shoe at the ball, but it missed by an inch.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!" Miya screamed, terror gripping him as the final red blink appeared.

Without wasting a second, he pulled off his right boot. As he aimed, he saw the last red glow, the end seemingly inevitable.

He threw the boot with all his strength. 'Please, God, let this hit! I can't die now! I still want to play football! No, what am I saying? My family needs me... My sister, my mother... I was kidnapped, I have to see them again.'

'Please... I want to survive this.'