OPEN CHAT

Alex spent the next few hours in a daze. The initial panic had faded, replaced by a cold, calculating fear. People had vanished. Not died, not been injured, but simply ceased to be. The concept of "disqualification" had taken on a terrifying new meaning. His 50 Survival Points felt less like a reward and more like a leash.

He found himself gravitating towards the edges of the plaza, observing. Small clusters of survivors were forming, hushed conversations turning into frantic debates. He saw the flint-eyed woman from the "Orientation Challenge" earlier. She was with a small group, gesturing emphatically. He decided to approach her.

"Hey," Alex said, walking up to her. "You were quick with that data chip."

She turned, her gaze sharp, assessing him. "You too. Alex, right? I saw your screen." She extended a hand. "Lena. Lena Petrova." Her grip was firm. "So, 'disqualification' means disappearing, huh? Charming."

"Seems that way," Alex replied, a grimace on his face. "Any ideas what 'Level 1 Shelter' means, or where it is?"

Lena shrugged, glancing around. "My best guess? The doors in the common areas. Maybe they unlock for people with enough points. I'm at 40. Missed one chip." She gestured to the surrounding architecture. "This whole place is designed to keep us in. And to keep us playing, apparently."

Just then, a man from Lena's group, burly with a neatly trimmed beard, stepped forward. "We've been trying to figure out if there's a pattern to these games," he said, his voice deep. "Three days until the next one. What if it's not a 'game' at all, but a test of something else?"

"I'm Mark," he added, extending a hand to Alex. "This is Sara," he nodded to a quiet woman beside him, her eyes wide with fear, clutching a worn paperback. "We figured it's better to stick together. More eyes, more hands."

Alex nodded, a sliver of relief cutting through his fear. Maybe he wouldn't have to navigate this alone. "I'm in, then. What's the plan for the next three days?"

The next two days were a blur of nervous energy and desperate preparation. They explored parts of Sector 12, carefully mapping out routes, identifying potential resources, and testing doors that remained stubbornly locked. The air was thick with unspoken questions: Where did the food come from? The water? Who was behind all this? No answers came.

Alex learned more about Lena. She was a former parkour enthusiast, agile and surprisingly quick-witted, with a practical, no-nonsense attitude. Mark, a former security consultant, was methodical and calm under pressure, a natural organizer. Sara, a university student, was timid but observant, often noticing small details others missed.

They found a cafeteria-like area that seemed to magically replenish itself with bland but edible rations. Water fountains provided clean, cool water. The system, whatever it was, took care of basic needs, ensuring players could focus solely on survival.

On the morning of the third day, a new system notification flashed across everyone's screens.

[SYSTEM ALERT!]

New Feature Unlocked: Communication Channel

Access: Player Status Screen

Alex immediately accessed his status screen. Below his name and Survival Points, a new option glowed: [OPEN CHAT]. He tapped it.

A simple text interface appeared. Already, messages were flooding in.

"Anyone else see this? We can talk now?!"

"Where is everyone? Is there a safe zone?"

"Don't trust anyone. This is just another trick."

The chat was a chaotic mix of fear, hope, and paranoia. Alex hesitated, then typed: "Alex here. Found some others. We're trying to stick together near the central plaza. Suggest others do the same."

Lena saw his message over his shoulder. "Good thinking, trying to coordinate," she said. "But be careful what you say. This 'communication channel' could be a surveillance tool."

Mark, ever practical, added, "It's a double-edged sword. Information can help, but misinformation can kill. And it means 'they' want us interacting, for some reason."

As the clock ticked closer to the next game, a new detail appeared on everyone's status screens, small and almost easy to miss: a tiny, unmoving icon shaped like a shield, next to their Survival Points. Alex instinctively tapped it.

[LEVEL 1 SHELTER ACCESSIBLE]

Cost: 50 Survival Points for 24-hour access.

Location: Randomly assigned private room upon purchase.

Benefits: Guaranteed safety from external threats during Game periods.

Warning: Access expires at end of 24-hour period. Unoccupied shelters default to public access.

The revelation hit Alex like a physical blow. "So, you buy safety?" he muttered, looking at his 50 points. He could spend all his points for a single night of guaranteed safety. It felt like a trap, forcing players to hoard points while risking danger.

"This is designed to break us," Sara whispered, her eyes wide. "Make us choose between helping others and protecting ourselves."

"Or to make us fight for points," Lena added, her jaw tight. "If future games involve more risky point collection, then having a 'safe' option becomes a huge incentive."

Mark folded his arms. "It also means the games could involve external threats, not just objectives. Things that might force us into these shelters. They wouldn't offer it if there wasn't a reason."

The ominous countdown on the central plaza display now showed less than an hour. People who had been scattered began to converge, a nervous energy crackling in the air. The concept of "Shelter" was rapidly spreading through the new communication channel, sparking heated debate. Some advocated for pooling points, but the system clearly stated "Cost: 50 Survival Points per person."

Just as the five-minute mark appeared, the massive hologram in the plaza flickered, and new text began to materialize, replacing the countdown. This was it. Game 2.

[SYSTEM ANNOUNCEMENT]

Game 2: The Harvest

Objective: Collect "Resource Crates" scattered throughout Sector 12.

Time Limit: 6 Hours.

Resource Crates Value:

Small Crate: 10 Survival Points Medium Crate: 25 Survival Points Large Crate: 50 Survival Points Special Condition: "Seekers" will be active during this game. Avoid detection. Penalty for Capture: Disqualification.

A low, guttural growl echoed from somewhere in the distance, a sound that made the hairs on Alex's arms stand on end. The communication channel exploded with frantic messages.

"Seekers?! What are seekers?!"

"I hear something… a low moan…"

"Are they... zombies?"

Suddenly, Alex's personal status screen flickered, and a new warning appeared, overriding his view for a moment.

[URGENT SYSTEM WARNING!]

Proximity Alert: Seeker detected. Distance: 150 meters. Moving.

Alex looked up, his heart pounding. He saw Lena's eyes widen as her own screen likely displayed the same message. The low growling sound was definitely closer now.