Death Game

The typically calm and indolent man was paralyzed with fear at the sight of the cloaked figure, but he was not alone. The people surrounding him trembled, their breaths shallow and uneven. Staying composed was nearly impossible, for the being before them bore an uncanny resemblance to the Grim Reaper—a harbinger of death, the entity said to mark the end of one's existence.

"But that would mean..."

"You are all dead!" the figure proclaimed, its voice reverberating through the grand hall.

A few of the women collapsed to their knees. Who could blame them? To learn of their demise from Death himself was a revelation too harrowing to process. Shock gripped them all, though some clung to denial, challenging the figure's words.

"You're lying! Dead people are supposed to go to Heaven or Hell, but we're in neither!" the bespectacled man retorted defiantly.

The figure turned to him, drifting down until their faces were mere inches apart. The man with glasses locked eyes—or rather, the empty sockets where eyes should have been. And as he stared into that abyss, something dreadful unfolded before him.

He saw his past. A life of indulgence, of hedonistic pleasures. He had lived lavishly, betraying his wife with countless affairs, frequenting strip clubs without remorse. Yet, all actions bear consequences. His wife had discovered the truth, and in a moment of vengeful wrath, she had pushed him from the balcony of their thirty-first-floor apartment.

The realization crashed over him like a tidal wave, and he let out a bloodcurdling scream—one laced with pure, unfiltered terror.

"I trust that serves as sufficient proof for you all," the figure stated coolly as it ascended back to its original position.

Bernard observed the man with glasses, noting the sheer horror in his wide eyes and the overwhelming regret etched upon his face. Though he had not witnessed the vision himself, Bernard could guess its contents.

"Serves him right," he muttered under his breath.

Arthur, standing nearby, turned sharply toward Bernard. He had caught the whisper but not the words.

"Did you say something?"

"Nothing at all," Bernard replied with a practiced smile.

Satisfied, Arthur returned his attention to the cloaked figure, yet Bernard remained unsettled. Something was off. Arthur was far too composed—unnervingly so.

"Why is that?"

The figure addressed the crowd once more.

"Now, if there are no further interruptions, I shall proceed. The twenty of you gathered here all perished around the same time, and you have been selected to partake in a game."

"A game?"

"Yes, a game to determine the five individuals who shall be chosen," it continued, raising both arms skyward. "Five among you shall be granted the favor of my Lord Death."

Confusion spread like wildfire, and soon the hall was filled with frantic murmurs. Yet, the implications were simple enough. The five victors would likely receive a second chance at life. As for the others...

"What happens to those of us who are not chosen?" a man inquired, his voice cutting through the tension.

The cloaked figure placed a skeletal hand over its face and began to laugh. The laughter stretched on for an excruciating minute, grating on the nerves of all present. Finally, a woman snapped.

"Answer us!" she demanded.

The figure's mirth ceased in an instant. The ominous aura it exuded upon its arrival returned in full force.

"Those who are not chosen will die. It is as simple as that. Every game has its consequences, and in this world, punishment is inevitable. Accept it, or perish."

Panic took hold once more, but amidst the hysteria, two figures remained eerily composed—Bernard, who masked his fear behind a veil of apathy, and Arthur, whose tranquility was far more unsettling.

Bernard narrowed his eyes. Arthur should be afraid. Even if he's the calm and collected type, he should be reacting more than this. Why isn't he?

The cloaked figure continued, indifferent to the chaos.

"Form groups of five. You have five minutes. Once time is up, I shall reveal the nature of the game."

With that, it vanished.

Bernard kept his thoughts to himself, but he suspected he was closer than anyone else to understanding the truth behind this ordeal. He placed a finger to his chin, deep in thought.

'Are the four others you choose meant to be your allies... or your enemies?'

His musings were interrupted.

"Would you join me?" Arthur's voice was steady, his expression unreadable.

Bernard hesitated. Even without direct proof, he instinctively knew Arthur was dangerous. His earlier display of unnatural composure was proof enough.

"Sure. You're the only one I trust," Bernard answered, flashing his usual, deceptive grin.

It was a lie. He trusted no one. If anything, he loathed the idea of working alongside someone so enigmatic, someone who concealed his true nature.

"How hypocritical of me."

A smile tugged at Arthur's lips, though whether it was genuine or laced with ulterior motives, Bernard could not tell.

"Let's find three others to join us," Arthur said.

Given his reputation and natural charisma, Arthur was a sought-after leader. Many clamored to be on his team, but with only three spots available, the choice was his alone. In the end, he selected the bespectacled man, a woman with smudged lipstick, and a quiet girl with pigtails.

"I apologize to the rest of you," Arthur declared, his voice ringing with conviction. "I wish to aid those who are weak. They deserve a second chance."

His words were met with outrage.

"Damn you! Why didn't you choose fairly?" a man bellowed.

"Yeah!" others chorused in agreement.

For three minutes, Arthur stood silently, enduring their anger, their insults, their accusations. Only when they finally dispersed to form their own groups did he move again.

Two minutes later, the figure returned.

"Now that you have chosen your groups, stand together. The game shall begin."

Each group of five was teleported out of the room one after the other. Their destination? No one knew.

Then came the turn of Arthur's group. A beam of light descended upon them, drawing their gazes upward. For a fleeting moment, their focus remained on the radiant glow—until, in the blink of an eye, they found themselves elsewhere.

A forest.

Towering trees with crimson bark loomed around them, their branches adorned with ghostly white leaves. A river ran nearby, its waters an eerie shade of red, mirroring the unnatural surroundings.

"Let us begin," the figure intoned.