Chapter II - Floor of Sloth

The prisoners were sent to the Tower of Sins blindfolded and cuffed. They heard a loud sound of opening a heavy metal door.

Get inside, you scum bastards! Shouted by the police personnel as he pushed one of the prisoners. Then dragged all the prisoners inside the room.

Take off their blindfold! There was a loud command from the man standing in the middle of the room wearing a high-rank police uniform and an ant mask.

As the blindfold was taken off, what appeared to the prisoners was a room, more or less 1,200sqm wide, surrounded by metal walls, the light bulbs flickering above, and a 3-meter-long table full of foods and drinks displayed in every corner. There's also a man standing in the middle, wearing a high-rank police uniform and an ant-mask.

Murmured. Murmured

Quite! Listen, all of you scum of the society, this is the first floor of the tower of sins, the floor of sloth, and I am Warden Persevere, the one who manages this floor. There is only one rule to be followed here. You must always move! Loudly announced by Warden Persevere while moving his hand as if a maestro leading an orchestra. You can do whatever you want to do and eat to the fullest with the available meal displayed, except resting. A motion-meter will be put on your wrists and toes. When the meter score drops to zero, the motion meter will explode, and you will lose either your hands or feet or maybe both! Hahaha. You scum bastards! Hahaha, ahem, sorry, I can't help it. Ahem, so to continue, you all will stay on this floor for 15 days starting today; after that, you will be sent to the second floor, the floor of gluttony. I wish you all luck and hope you can go to the 2nd floor with complete hands and feet. Hahaha, good luck! Then, the warden makes a hand gesture to the police personnel to remove the handcuffs of the prisoners and place the motion-meter on their wrists.

We will now leave! Enjoy yourself, criminals! The warden left with all the police personnel and locked the heavy metal door. All that is left in the room are the prisoners with confused faces.

Murmured. Murmured

With all the commotion, a man wearing a prisoner's uniform with a code number 005 in his pocket shouted, Hello, everyone! I am MJ Rosalbon. I know this is cringed, but we need to help each other. We are all in the same situation now, a situation where we all should play a survival game inside this fucking tower for 105 days! But if we all cooperate and decipher all the clues in the given rule and inside this room, we can all survive.

So what are your plans? Please tell us first what you will do before we agree to cooperate with you—said a woman with long, shiny hair, a fit body, and a uniform code 002. Oh, I forgot, you all can call me Missy or Ms. 002. She added, as she raised her uniform pocket so the other prisoners could see her uniform code number and then smiled seductively.

I-I don't have a plan yet. But we can all make it. First, let's make strategies how we are going to survive this floor of sloth. As we all know, as the warden instructed, we need to move our hands and feet so as the motion-meter will not explode. MJ Rosalbon suggested to the crowd.

If it just like that, then I guess there's no need for me to cooperate. All I need to do is move my hands and feet. We are all criminals that's why we are all here, we committed sins, so how are we going to trust each other? Hahaha So, I'm fucking out of here. I don't need your sweet talks. Fuck, I really hate politics and hypocrites. Said by a man with big stature and a uniform number 011. Oh, and that table is mine. While pointing the table of food displayed in the left corner.

Yeah. Yeah. We just need to move. What a simple game.

Hahaha Let's dance, eat, and drink!

Shouted by four prisoners and followed the man with 011 uniform number. Then the rest of prisoners disperse from the middle of the room and went to different places in the room.

As if agreed to what the prisoner number 011, the rest of the prisoners leave the center of the room and went to the table full of foods displayed in the four corners of the room.

A man wearing a code number 016 prisoner's uniform approach MJ Rosalbon. Hi, I'm Kyle, Kyle De Guzman —said while reaching his hand for a handshake. I really like what you said back there. If it is okay with you, let's cooperate.

Gladly, thank you. MJ responded while gratefully smiling.  I'm actually nervous right now. As the rule is simple, but as dangerous when not followed. I'm not sure if we can continue move our hands and feet for 15 days. For us to do that, we have to survive without sleeping for 15 days. I don't think we can do that without cooperating—he then put his right hand on his forehead as if having a headache.

Yeah, you are right! We need to think how are we going to survive this floor without sleeping for 15 days. He put his hand on his chin while deeply thinking—how about let's help each other? I will shake your hands and feet while you sleep, then you do so, when I'm sleep. Kyle suggested while looking to MJ in the eyes.

Th-that's cool man, I like that. MJ replied awkwardly.

MJ and Kyle shook hands, solidifying their pact. But even as they made their agreement, MJ couldn't shake off the growing unease in his gut. The floor of sloth was deceptively simple in its rules, but the implications were horrifying.

The prisoners scattered across the room, stuffing themselves with food, chattering nervously, or testing their motion-meters. Some swung their arms in the air, others paced in circles. The group that had followed Prisoner 011 had begun drinking aggressively, laughing boisterously as if they weren't trapped in a twisted death game.

MJ turned back to Kyle. "We have to be smart about this. If we just rely on manually moving each other, it might work for a while, but exhaustion will catch up. We need more people, and we need a strategy."

Kyle nodded, scanning the room. "Missy, she seemed interested in teamwork. Maybe we should talk to her."

MJ agreed, and the two approached the girl, who was sitting on the edge of a table, watching the room unfold. She seemed amused at the chaos, but her sharp eyes showed she was analyzing everything.

"Missy, we need allies," MJ started. "If we don't figure out a sustainable way to stay in motion, we're all going to lose limbs before we even reach the second floor."

Missy smirked. "And what makes you think I need allies? I can take care of myself."

Kyle interjected, "Even if you can, would you really want to rely only on yourself for fifteen days? What if something happens? We need a system. We can rotate in shifts, help each other stay awake, maybe even find a loophole in this sick game."

Missy tapped her chin. "Fine. But I don't work for free. If I help, I get first pick of the food every day."

"Deal," MJ said without hesitation. The food wasn't a priority—survival was.

The first day inside the Floor of Sloth started off deceptively easy. Prisoners danced, ate, and drank, some mocking the absurdity of the rule imposed upon them. They laughed, celebrating their supposed freedom to move without restriction. However, as hours passed, fatigue set in. The reality of their situation dawned upon them—they had to move continuously, without rest, without pause.

By the tenth hour, a drunk prisoner with uniform code 013, who had stopped moving for just a moment too long, screamed as his motion-meter turned red. An explosion followed, and blood splattered onto the table. The man collapsed, his right hand blown clean off. He wailed in agony, and the room fell into stunned silence.

Warden Persevere's voice boomed through unseen speakers. "Oh, dear! Our first loser already? Tsk tsk, such a shame! I do hope the rest of you don't slack off. Remember, keep moving, or you'll be saying goodbye to more than just your hands! Hahaha!"

Missy took a deep breath, her seductive demeanor replaced by a sharp, analytical gaze. "This is worse than I thought. Sleep deprivation can kill us faster than this stupid meter. We need to find a way to keep our bodies moving even when we're too exhausted."

Kyle clenched his fists. "If one of us drops, we all do. We need a plan."

MJ responded. "Like what we agreed upon. We take turns shaking each other awake."

By the sixteenth hour, exhaustion was visible in everyone's eyes. Some prisoners had taken to constantly shaking their limbs, pacing in circles, or tapping their fingers against their legs. The once joyous feast was abandoned; food was eaten hastily, more out of necessity than enjoyment.

Then, another scream.

A woman, uniform code 030, had collapsed. Her motion-meter beeped violently before it exploded, taking both her feet with it. She wailed, writhing on the ground, blood pooling beneath her.

"Damn it!" Kyle rushed to her, but it was useless. Without feet, she couldn't move. Her motion-meter beeped again.

"No!" she sobbed. "No, no, no—"

Another explosion silenced her. Her headless body fell limp on the bloodied floor.

The remaining prisoners stood frozen in horror.

"This is madness," Kyle whispered. "This isn't just about staying awake. This is a death trap."

The floor was now painted in a mixture of food scraps, spilled drinks, and blood. More prisoners collapsed as time dragged on, their screams turning into eerie echoes of despair. Some begged for death before their meters could claim them. Others laughed hysterically, their sanity cracking under pressure.

As the fourteenth day approached, only a handful of prisoners remained standing, their bodies broken but unwilling to stop moving. MJ, Kyle, and Missy barely recognized each other—dark circles carved beneath their eyes, lips cracked, bodies trembling.

A voice echoed from above.

"Congratulations, survivors. You have lasted fifteen days. The Floor of Sloth has judged you worthy to ascend."

The heavy metal door creaked open, revealing the staircase to the next floor.

All the survivor prisoners climb the second floor with heavy shoulders.