Ding!
[Penalty Zone Initiated!]
Selene froze as the world pixelated. Not metaphorically. Literally.
The jet's leather seat vanished beneath her. Blake's voice distorted like a corrupted MP3. Daphne's towering form froze mid-salute. Reality crumbled like sand in a storm.
Darkness.
Then—
The system announced ominously.
[Welcome to the Penalty Zone, Player.]
Selene slammed into concrete with a thud that stole her breath.
Air punched out of her lungs. Her elbows scraped stone. Her silk kimono fluttered uselessly around her like a ruined flag.
"Wha—?"
She pushed herself up on the same yard. One second later, she froze like a stone statue. It was the same yard… same sky.
Same prison.
And, standing about three feet away from her… was an army of prison guards. They held batons, shields, and electric riot spears. The air suddenly became suffocating.
Warden Delano stood at their front, expression stone-cold.
Selene's heart nearly exploded.
The system chimed.
[Mission: Survive.]
[Penalty: Harder Level with each attempt.]
[Attempt: Currently one.]
[All System aids are currently disabled.]
Selene's blood ran cold.
"CAPTURE HER," Delano ordered.
"System, are you kidding me?!" she shouted, already running for her life.
The system answered nonchalantly.
[Running… is ineffective here.]
Her thoughts spun like a roulette wheel in a casino on fire.
Was this real? A hallucination? A system punishment? A trap?
Her legs burned.
Her heart slammed against her ribs.
Just twenty steps. That's all she got.
The first set of doors slammed shut ahead of her with a resounding thud.
Selene staggered, turning towards another door. It slammed shut.
One by one.
All of the doors were closing.
Every exit sealed one by one like an automatic tomb. Selene twisted mid-run, turning to fight.
'Focus, focus, you have the strength buff, Selene!' She desperately reminded herself.
Her eyes locked on the first guard charging her.
She ducked low. Jabbed her elbow into a knee. Spun and punched a second guard across the jaw. Adrenaline made her feral.
She got in three solid hits before someone drove a taser down her spine.
Selene froze.
Her lips parted to scream, but she could not. Not even as pain burned through every part of her body, or as a wave of crushing dizziness slammed onto her mind.
And that… was enough. She dropped to the floor like a puppet with cut strings.
Delano's boots clicked across the concrete.
He stood over her, a shadow stretching across her face.
"Miss Sinclair," he said, voice calm and condescending, "You are dead."
Then he drove his boot into her ribs.
Her world was crimson.
Then, it was dark.
'But why… Why is this happening?' Selene wondered as her mind dipped into nothingness.
'It makes no sense!'
'You said you were the Wealth Domination System!! What's with this bizzare scenario?!'
She didn't die once.
She died over and over.
And the system's helpful response was a nonchalant: The Player must hold the power and influence to protect the wealth it receives from the system.
Selene's heartbeats picked up.
In the second attempt, Selene tried to use her strength to its full potential. She fought like a beast. Got farther. Broke a few bones… but still… she went down.
Delano's boots clicked across the concrete just like before.
"Miss Sinclair," he grinned, "You are dead."
And then, the pain was the same.
All. Over. Again.
In the third attempt, Selene tried to buy some time. That was not enough. She demanded to use the Star Coins, upgrade her skills. But the system was as nonchalant as ever.
[System Access temporarily disabled. Partial. The Star Coin Shop will unlock after the third attempt.]
Selene cursed the system out loud.
In the fourth attempt, Selene upgraded her speed. She ran before the doors even had a chance to slam shut! Her heart was thundering by this time. Her mind was half broken from facing her own death so soon. So fast.
But this time?
Selene knew she would escape!
Only after twenty steps, she found the first trap. A large clown mannequin appeared out of nowhere and blocked her path. Whenever she tried to get too close, he would raise his hammer high and try to smash her head.
Selene nearly cried.
She ran in a different direction. The guards were far away now. But even as Selen tried every hallway… she found no place where there weren't traps.
And in the end, she could not run anymore.
Selene slumped weakly on the ground. Her kimono was already stained and torn… still carrying the stains from her first attempt.
Delano found her after half an hour.
His lips stretched into a wide, unsettling grin.
"Miss Sinclair…"
He smiled.
"You are dead."
In the fourth attempt, Selene stood still.
Her gaze wasn't just murderous—it was calculating. Dissecting.
She didn't run. Didn't scream. She simply stared down at her kimono—still torn at the hem from Loop 1, still smudged with dried blood from Loop 2, and still clinging to the scent of burning plastic from Loop 3.
It hadn't reset.
Neither had her.
The guards, the walls, even Delano's smug expression—they all rewound to the exact same beginning.
But she didn't.
Not her bruises.
Not her cuts.
Not even the small tear in her right sleeve.
Something didn't add up. And in that strange moment of clarity, she realized—
Everything was changing. But not her. Not her clothes… not what she carried…
"Miss Sinclair…" he began, like a monotonous record on repeat.
Selene didn't answer.
But her fingers brushed the inside of her sleeve, where she could maybe tuck a nail. A shard of glass. Anything small enough to hide. Small sufficient to matter later.
When she opened her eyes in Loop Seven, there was no more panic.
No rage.
Just focus—surgical, precise, and hungry.
Selene rose without hesitation. Checked the weight in her sleeve: the nail she'd palmed in Loop 6 was still there, nestled against her wrist like a secret.
Her feet moved before her thoughts did—every motion now perfectly timed, like choreography etched into her nervous system.
She didn't run.
She walked straight at the guards.
One blinked. Wrong move.
She kicked a baton into the air, caught it without looking, and hurled it at the first exit guard. Helmet cracked. He dropped like a discount action figure.
Selene grabbed his shield before it hit the ground, spun it, and turned it into a sled. Then launched herself down the stairwell.
Hair flying. Knees tucked. Eyes glowing.
"System," she muttered mid-slide, voice flat. "Progress?"
[Enemy Knockouts: 24]
[Damage Sustained: Light]
[Final Boss Status: Untriggered.]
Selene grinned. "Bring him."
And like clockwork, Delano appeared.
Same sneer. Same baton. Same swagger.
Selene did not stop.
They clashed like titans in a broom closet.
Him: military precision, brute force, textbook control.
Her: improvisation, exhaustion, raw chaos in silk.
He swung wide—she slipped under. He grabbed her arm—Selene twisted and yanked his shoulder out of place.
He headbutted—Selene followed up with a double knee to the groin.
They separated, panting.
He slammed her against the wall again, but it wasn't dominance this time. It was desperation.
Delano growled like a madman, "You. Can. Not. ESCAPE!!"
She wanted to say neither can you, but then—Blackout.
Delano had blasted her head off.
As a prison warden, he also had a gun.
Selene woke up sore.
But smirking.
Her hands flexed. The nail was still there. So was her new toy.
The plan was fully formed now.
Every step ahead was choreography.
Selene ducked low. Dashed. Slammed a guard's head into the retina scanner. The door hissed open—thanks to the override code she memorized back in Loop 5.
They tried to flank her. She was already behind them.
Two crackling batons in her hands now—trophies taken mid-loop.
Guards went down like bowling pins on a broken lane. Selene'skimono swished with every movement, no longer a hindrance, but part of her form. Blood soaked the hem. Sweat rolled down her spine.
Selene didn't flinch.
She didn't blink.
She knew their weaknesses. She knew the order. She knew the exact moment one of their shoelace would come undone and trip three others.
[Knockout Count: 86]
[Stamina: 31%]
[Confidence Level: 99.7%]
And so very soon… there was silence.
Silence.
The courtyard was filled only with the sound of groaning bodies and buzzing electric spears dropped to the floor.
Delano stood across the yard.
His coat torn.
His lip bleeding.
His hand trembling.
Selene stood calmly over the fallen guards. The wind gently brushed past her stained and torn kimono, her sharp, beautiful eyes, and steadily watched Delano.
"You're impossible," Delano rasped.
Selene tilted her head, a sly smile curling on her lips, "No," she said, "I'm prepared."
She pulled out the nail from her sleeve—the one she'd hidden, loop after loop.
Delano ran.
She walked.
He screamed something about justice and protocols.
Selene raised her wrist—which has become thin and delicate after so many starved nights. But now? There was a newfound strength.
The nail hit its mark.
Right in the throat.
Delano choked. Raised his gun, but Selene was faster. She pulled the trigger first.
Delano fell with a loud, resounding thud.