A New Game

Choi Sung-Wook sat in his loft, immersed in an apathy that felt like a bottomless pit. The events of the recent "performance" had left a bitter aftertaste in his soul. He, the Puppeteer, accustomed to pulling the strings of other people's fates, found himself powerless in the face of… what? Conscience? Disappointment? His own insignificance?

He had strived for power, for control, for the feeling of his superiority. He wanted to be a puppeteer, pulling strings, controlling, breaking. But his puppets, these pathetic heroes and villains, proved unable to meet his expectations. They didn't want to kill, didn't want to suffer the way he wanted them to. They… disappointed him.

What am I doing wrong? — this question, like a broken record, spun in his head. — Why don't they want to play by my rules?

He tried to find answers in video games, in anime, in cheap coffee, but it was all in vain. The emptiness inside grew, consuming the remnants of his former excitement. He no longer felt like a puppeteer. He felt like… nobody.

Days dragged on, gray, faceless, alike. Sung-Wook hardly left the house, spending all his time in his lair, which now seemed to him a prison. He tried to return to his game, to force himself to feel the taste of power again, but it was all for nothing. The puppeteer's threads hung lifelessly, not finding their puppets.

But one day, while wandering the vastness of the internet in search of some kind of entertainment, Sung-Wook came across an announcement that made his heart beat a little faster. The announcement was about recruiting a group of adventurers, or, as they were also called, rankers, for a raid on a recently opened dungeon.

A dungeon, — flashed through Sung-Wook's mind. — A place full of dangers, monsters, traps… and opportunities.

An unhealthy gleam lit up in his eyes again. For the first time in a long time, he felt something akin to interest.

This could be… fun, — he thought, remembering his past games. — A new game. New puppets. New rules.

The idea of going into the dungeon, not as the all-powerful Puppeteer, but as an ordinary, unremarkable hunter, seemed unexpectedly attractive to him. It was a chance to start over. A chance to test himself. A chance… to feel alive again.

Yes, — he decided. — I will go there. And I will put on a show for them that they will never forget.

The decision was made, and Sung-Wook, as if awakened from a long sleep, began to act. He applied for registration as a hunter, passed all the necessary tests and checks, easily hiding his true power. His skills, honed by years of manipulation and training, allowed him to easily imitate an average ranker without arousing any suspicion.

And so, a few days later, he stood in front of the dungeon entrance – a gaping hole in reality, leading into the unknown. Other hunters bustled around, checking their equipment, discussing strategies, sharing rumors about the monsters dwelling inside.

Sung-Wook looked around. Most of the adventurers were young, full of enthusiasm and a thirst for adventure. They didn't yet know what real fear, real pain, real death were.

Fools, — thought Sung-Wook, smirking. — They think it's a game. They think they can win.

He knew that the dungeon was not a game. It was a trap. A place where fates are broken, where hopes are dashed, where death awaits at every turn.

And he, Choi Sung-Wook, the Puppeteer, was going to be the director of this performance. A performance in which these naive adventurers would play the main roles, and he… he would pull the strings, watching their agony.

The anticipation of the upcoming spectacle made his heart beat faster. He could already see in his mind's eye how these brave men would fight monsters, how they would fall into traps, how they would die…

This will be… delightful, — he whispered, and a predatory smile appeared on his lips.

— Hey, you! — a rude shout brought Sung-Wook out of his thoughts.

He turned around and saw a group of five people, dressed in expensive, obviously custom-made armor. They were looking at him from above, with undisguised contempt.

— What are you standing there like a statue for? — asked one of them, the largest, with a cocky, overconfident face. — You're blocking the way.

Sung-Wook silently stepped aside, letting them pass. He didn't want to attract unnecessary attention to himself. Yet.

— Look, another weakling decided to try his luck, — said another, a skinny one, with a cunning look. — Probably hopes to get rich at our expense.

— Don't pay attention, — the third, tall, with cold eyes, threw in. — Those like him are usually the first to die.

— The main thing is that he doesn't get under our feet, — added the fourth, a woman with a predatory, unattractive face.

— Don't worry, — grinned the fifth, the youngest of them, with a smug smirk. — If anything, we'll quickly put him in his place.

They walked past, throwing another contemptuous look at Sung-Wook, and headed towards the dungeon entrance.

Sung-Wook followed them with his gaze, and an unkind light lit up in his eyes.

It seems the game begins earlier than I thought, — he thought. — Well, all the better.

He recognized this group. It was the infamous "Bloody Dawn" squad, known for its cruelty and lack of principle. They were strong, ruthless, and… very convenient for his purposes.

Rumor had it that "Bloody Dawn" did not hesitate to use weak hunters as bait for monsters or as human shields in dangerous situations. They recruited novices into their ranks, promising them protection and a share of the loot, and then abandoned them to their fate, taking everything for themselves.

Perfect puppets, — thought Sung-Wook, smirking. — Just perfect.

He decided to join them. Not to protect the weak, no. But to use "Bloody Dawn" in his game. To pit them against other hunters. To… have fun.

— Wait! — he shouted, catching up with them. — Take me with you!

"Bloody Dawn" stopped and turned around. The cocky look, the smirks, the contempt – it was all on their faces again.

— Are you serious? — asked the leader, the same large man. — You think we'll take a weakling like you with us?

— I can be useful, — said Sung-Wook, trying to appear as insecure and pathetic as possible. — I… I'm good at detecting traps. And I have… I have good intuition.

— Intuition? — the woman scoffed. — Is that your superpower?

— No, but… — Sung-Wook hesitated, feigning embarrassment. — But I can sense danger. I… I can warn you if something goes wrong.

— Hmm, — the leader of "Bloody Dawn" thought, rubbing his chin. — Okay, whatever. You can come with us. But look, if you get under our feet, I'll kill you with my own hands.

— Thank you! — Sung-Wook portrayed sincere joy on his face. — I won't let you down!

Of course, you won't, — he thought, hiding a smile. — You will play by my rules. And you have no idea what role I have in store for you.

Together with "Bloody Dawn", Sung-Wook entered the dungeon. Inside it was dark, damp, and smelled of mold. The walls, covered with strange glowing lichens, pulsed with a dim light, creating an oppressive atmosphere.

— Stay close to us, — one of the squad members, the skinny guy, told him. — And don't even think about falling behind.

— Okay, — nodded Sung-Wook, trying not to betray his excitement.

They walked along a narrow corridor, winding between huge stalactites and stalagmites. With each step, the tension grew. Sung-Wook felt the invisible threads, woven from his power, reaching out to the members of "Bloody Dawn", entangling them, subjugating them to his will.

Soon, — he thought. — Soon the show will begin.

He deliberately stayed behind, observing every movement of his new "companions". He studied their habits, their weaknesses, their fears.

They are strong, — he admitted. — But they are too overconfident. Too cruel. And too… predictable.

This made them ideal puppets. Ideal victims.

Suddenly, the skinny guy, who was walking in front, stopped.

— Quiet! — he whispered. — I hear something.

Everyone froze, listening. In the silence of the dungeon, a strange sound could be heard, like the scraping of metal against stone.

— What is it? — asked the woman, tensing up.

— I don't know, — answered the leader. — But we better be careful.

Sung-Wook remained silent. He knew what it was. It was the monsters. The inhabitants of the dungeon, attracted by the noise and the smell of living flesh.

It's starting, — he thought, and his lips stretched into an anticipating smile.

Two huge figures appeared from the darkness ahead. They looked like giant spiders, but instead of eight legs, they had six, and instead of eyes, they had many glowing dots, flickering in the darkness.

— Scolopendromorphs, — someone from the squad whispered. — Be careful, they are poisonous!

The monsters rushed at them, and "Bloody Dawn" engaged in battle. They fought in a coordinated manner, skillfully, using their skills and weapons. Swords rang out, spells flashed with bright bursts, illuminating the cave walls.

Sung-Wook stood aside, watching the battle. He could easily intervene and help them, but he didn't want to. He wanted them to fight. He wanted them to suffer. He wanted them to… die.

One of the squad members, the tall one with the cold eyes, stumbled and fell. One of the scolopendromorphs immediately pounced on him, sinking its sharp mandibles into his body.

A piercing scream rang out, full of pain and horror. A scream that was music to Sung-Wook's ears.

— No! — shouted the woman, rushing to help, but it was too late.

The tall hunter was dead. His body, mutilated and drained of blood, lay on the cold stone, and his killer was already rushing towards a new victim.

Sung-Wook watched what was happening with undisguised pleasure. His plan was working. "Bloody Dawn" began to suffer losses. And this was only the beginning.

Yes, — he thought. — Yes, this is it. The real show.

He felt the puppeteer's threads tighten, vibrate, obeying his will. He controlled this battle, this death, this agony.

He was the puppeteer. And this was his game.

The battle continued. "Bloody Dawn" fought desperately, but the monsters were too strong. Another member of the squad fell, struck down by the poisonous mandibles of a scolopendromorph.

Sung-Wook continued to watch, not interfering. He waited. Waited for the right moment to come. The moment when he could deliver the decisive blow.

And that moment came. The leader of "Bloody Dawn", wounded and exhausted, stepped back, trying to catch his breath. He ended up right in front of Sung-Wook.

— You! — he growled, looking at him with hatred. — Why aren't you helping?

Sung-Wook just smiled in response.

— And why should I? — he asked, and a chilling mockery sounded in his voice. — You're doing pretty well on your own.

— You… you traitor! — gasped the leader, and his hand reached for his sword.

But Sung-Wook was faster. With one movement, he pulled a dagger from his belt and plunged it straight into the leader's heart.

He cried out, staggered, and collapsed to the ground. His eyes, full of pain and surprise, stared at the cave ceiling.

— Traitor? — repeated Sung-Wook, looking at the dead body. — No, I'm not a traitor. I'm… the puppeteer.

The remaining members of "Bloody Dawn", seeing the death of their leader, were horrified. They realized that Sung-Wook was not who he claimed to be. That he was not a weak hunter, but… something much worse.

— Who… who are you? — asked the woman, in a trembling voice.

Sung-Wook smirked.

— I am the one who will put on an unforgettable show for you, — he answered. — A show in which you will be the main characters.

He raised his hand, and the invisible threads, woven from his power, came into motion. They entangled the remaining members of "Bloody Dawn", binding them, depriving them of the ability to move.

— No! — shouted the skinny guy. — Let us go!

— Why should I? — asked Sung-Wook, approaching them. — After all, the most interesting part is just beginning.

He pulled another dagger from his belt, and an unhealthy gleam lit up in his eyes.

— You will dance to my tune, — he whispered. — You will scream, beg, die… And I will enjoy it.

His laughter, full of madness and cruelty, echoed through the cave, mixing with the screams of horror and pain.

Yes, — he thought. — This is the real game. The game in which I am the puppeteer. And they are my puppets.

The show had begun. And Sung-Wook, standing in the middle of the cave, covered in blood and illuminated by flashes of spells, enjoyed every moment of it.

He was the puppeteer. And this was his game. A game in which there was no place for mercy, compassion, pity. A game in which there was only pain, fear, and death.

And let the whole world wait, — he thought, plunging the dagger into another victim. — Because today I am a god.

A god playing with people's lives. A god reveling in their suffering. A god creating his own, twisted, cruel world.

A world in which he is the only puppeteer. And all the others are just puppets, doomed to dance to his tune.

And this is just the beginning, — he whispered, and his laughter echoed through the dark corridors of the dungeon. — The most interesting is yet to come.

Ahead were new victims, new trials, new games. Ahead was an eternity filled with pain, fear, and death.

And Choi Sung-Wook, the Puppeteer, was ready for it. He was ready to play. Until the very end.