Chapter 3: The World Unraveled

The world as they knew it, the world they had once taken for granted, collapsed in an instant. One moment, life flowed as usual—a mundane routine of familiar faces and mundane tasks—and the next, it was gone. A brutal, sudden shift, like a malignant force tearing through the very fabric of existence, swallowed everything in its wake. Millions vanished without a trace. Their homes, their families, their entire lives—erased in the blink of an eye.

What was left was a land beyond recognition. Jagged, twisted landscapes stretched out like the remnants of a broken dream. Towering cliffs cracked open, spewing clouds of ash, while the earth itself trembled beneath the survivors' feet. The sky, once blue and hopeful, now raged in a perpetual storm of red and black. Dark clouds roiled overhead, crackling with unnatural energy, casting the world beneath them in an unholy crimson hue. It was a place of horror, where every corner seemed to hide some grotesque creature, waiting for its next victim.

Screams echoed through the emptiness, a haunting symphony of terror that filled the air. Fear—raw, palpable fear—spread like a wildfire, consuming anyone who dared to breathe it in. People ran in every direction, looking for safety that didn't exist. Hope was a distant memory. Desperation took root, clutching at their hearts, pushing them toward madness.

Amid the chaos, there was a boy. His eyes, cold and calculating, surveyed the madness around him, an unshaken observer in a world that had fallen apart. The world had crumbled, yes—but in that instant, he could feel it. A deep, insatiable pull. A thirst for something greater. He had always been different, always craving adventure, but now—now, this was the moment he had been waiting for.

But before the dust could settle, before any sense of order could be restored, a presence made itself known.

The Demon Host Arrives

From the chaos emerged a small figure, no taller than a child, but radiating a sense of dread far beyond its size. The demon hovered above the survivors, its twisted form casting a shadow that seemed to deepen the terror already hanging in the air. Its skin was an unnatural shade of violet, like the bruise on the body of the world. Its eyes, black as voids, gleamed with malice, and its grin—oh, that wicked, jagged grin—spoke of countless horrors, of a darkness that reached into the very heart of their souls.

The demon's voice—booming, distorted, and cold—pierced through the screaming and confusion, silencing all with a single command.

"Welcome to the Adventure Till Death game."

It paused, allowing the words to sink in, savoring the terror they caused. The demon continued, each syllable dripping with malice.

"You have been chosen for a test of survival. Your choices will determine your fate."

A ripple of panic spread through the crowd. Some screamed in defiance, others in sheer terror. The demon's voice continued, low and mocking, as if amused by their dread.

"You have a choice: press YES to participate in the game. Press NO to refuse."

The words echoed in the air, twisting in their minds. Thirty minutes—only thirty minutes—were given to decide.

The survivors, overwhelmed with fear, raced to press "NO," hoping for some escape, some shred of normalcy. But there were others, those with darker desires, those who thought they could outsmart the game, or perhaps those simply drawn to the madness. Their hands trembled as they pressed "YES," lured by the promise of power, of survival, of something more.

The minutes ticked down with terrifying slowness, as if the very world itself was holding its breath.

The Grim Truth

When the timer finally ran out, the world held its breath. And then the truth hit with the force of a tidal wave.

For those who had pressed "NO," there was no mercy. In an instant, their bodies were consumed by a crimson light—bright and violent, swallowing them whole. Flesh disintegrated, bones turned to dust, and in the blink of an eye, they were gone, reduced to nothing but ash. The air hung heavy with the scent of charred remnants, and the silence that followed was deafening.

The remaining survivors stood frozen in shock. Fear gripped their hearts as the brutal truth sank in. There was no turning back. This world, this nightmare, was their new reality. They had entered a game with no rules, no mercy.

And the boy—he watched, emotionless, as those who had chosen to reject the game were obliterated. A flicker of something dark stirred within him. It was a feeling he couldn't name—a hunger, perhaps. No, more than that. It was the beginning of something much deeper, something far more terrifying.

The Boy's Reaction

Among the survivors, one boy stood apart. He didn't tremble, didn't flinch. His eyes—dark, cold, and gleaming with an unsettling calm—scanned the terrified crowd. His lips twisted into a smirk as the horror unfolded before him. The survivors scattered in all directions, each one gripped by the realization that they were trapped in this nightmare.

His gaze, however, was fixed. There, in the distance, he saw her—a girl, standing among the others, her face pale with fear, but her eyes… her eyes burned with something more. She was different. She was strong, defiant even, despite the terror that had taken hold of everyone else.

The boy's smile deepened. It was twisted, dark, and full of a sickening obsession. He watched her, his thoughts swirling with something darker. Something dangerous. The girl had caught his attention—and he would make sure she never escaped it.

"This world is mine now," he muttered under his breath, the words barely a whisper. His fingers curled into fists, as if already preparing for the game to come.

The game had just begun, but for the boy, it had already revealed its true nature: an endless battlefield of survival, power, and domination. And he was going to make sure everyone, especially her, knew exactly who was in control.

The world was no longer a place of light and possibility. It had become a playground for the darkest of desires. And the boy? He was only just beginning to uncover the true depth of his own.