The night was silent, as always.
But the morning… it felt wrong.
Rin wasn't woken by the usual symphony of torment—the sharp cries of agony, the panicked footfalls, the flesh-ripping sounds of someone's life ending within seconds in the most gruesome ways imaginable.
No, this morning was different.
It was quiet.
Eerily quiet.
Above the blood-stained arena, the sky bled crimson. Not the soft red of a sunrise, but a deep, oppressive hue that hung like a warning. It stained the concrete with its hue, casting everything in a foreboding light—as if the heavens themselves knew something was coming. Something close. And whatever it was… it wasn't human.
Rin didn't wake with that familiar cold dread he'd grown used to in the North Gate. No icy breath. No sudden jolt of fear.
Instead, a sharp shiver ran down his spine—instinctive, primal.
He sat up slowly from the cold, cracked concrete, grimacing as a strange discomfort tugged at his body. That's when he noticed it: a wide, clean cut sliced across his left leg. Deep, burning, fresh.
Whoever—or whatever—had done this hadn't even made a sound. It happened in the shadows, a phantom blade in the dark. But they'd failed to finish the job.
Rin clenched his jaw.
This wasn't just a wound. It was a message.
Whoever did this had tried to take his life while he slept, and failed. He wouldn't let that stand. He wouldn't seek revenge in a normal way. No—something darker churned within him now.
Then, piercing through the silence came a scream.
But not like the ones before.
This time, it wasn't a scream of sudden pain. This one spoke. A desperate cry so raw and hopeless it made Rin's skin crawl.
"PLEASE, GOD, HELP ME!"
The voice was shaking, cracking with sheer terror. Rin's eyes sharpened. The words echoed through the arena, a declaration of helplessness in a place that had long stopped listening to prayers.
Whoever it is… they're not just killing for survival anymore, Rin thought grimly. Someone out there is aiming to take it all.
Seconds later, the voice returned. A final cry before the silence swallowed it whole.
"I DON'T WANT TO DIE—"
And then—nothing.
Just a breathless void.
Moments passed. Then, a low mechanical chime echoed through the arena.
Player Count: 13.
The number fell again. Another soul claimed. Another heart stopped beating.
The North Gate's games were reaching their boiling point.
It was getting closer now—the inevitable. The final clash. Rin could feel it crawling beneath his skin like insects. The weight of unseen eyes watching him, waiting for him to break or rise.
But inside, he knew the truth.
He wasn't ready.
He still couldn't control whatever force pulsed in his veins. That… thing… inside him. That hunger. That scream. That rage.
He sat curled in the farthest corner of the arena, his body low, posture still, trying to center himself. The blood from his leg seeped slowly into the ground. He hadn't moved in hours.
How could he move when he didn't even understand what he was becoming?
But then—movement caught his eye.
Across the arena, in the shadowed corner opposite from where he sat, two figures stood close. Whispering. But they weren't fighting. No weapons drawn. No bloodshed. Just… conspiring.
Plotting.
An alliance.
Right there in the North Gate.
Rin's eyes narrowed dangerously.
This wasn't allowed. This wasn't right. The North Gate wasn't a place for bonds. It was survival. The strong lived. The weak died. That was the rule. No exceptions.
And alliances?
They were worse than betrayals. They were rigged traps dressed up as brotherhood.
Rin gritted his teeth. He was no longer safe. Not even close.
He had to keep moving. Staying in one place now was a death sentence—like a gazelle lying down in front of lions.
But his leg…
His damn leg.
Each step was agony. Every motion a reminder of how close he came to death in his sleep.
Rin knelt and tore strips of cloth from his already tattered shirt, wrapping them tight around his thigh. The fabric pressed against the gash, dulling the pain just enough. It wasn't much, but it would have to do.
He limped on, circling the arena, staying out of view. Hours passed. The count remained at 13. A rare stillness fell. But Rin knew better than to think the storm had passed.
The crimson sky above was deepening now, darkening to a shade of red that almost looked black. The day was dying.
And the night… it was hungry.
Then it happened.
Just when Rin thought he might survive another night—another scream ripped through the silence. But this time, it was different.
This time, he was the target.
A boy, younger than Rin—skin pale, eyes wild—charged at him with a massive double-bit axe clutched in trembling hands. Despite his age, there was no fear in the boy's eyes. Only madness.
He swung.
The air hissed. The wind grew thick.
Rin ducked just in time, the blade missing him by inches. Pain flared in his leg with every movement. He gritted his teeth, forcing his body to move, dodge, breathe.
Dodge. Step. Sidestep. Dash.
Again. Again.
Rin couldn't land a single blow. His enemy was too fast, too reckless. Rin was too wounded. Every time he tried to fight back, another strike came. Until—
From behind—
A sudden crack to the skull.
A second attacker.
He fell to the ground, groaning. He'd been played. A trap. A two-man ambush.
Now bleeding, dazed, exhausted, he fought back with desperation. Every swing he blocked drained him. Every parry came slower than the last.
He was going to die.
They knew it.
He knew it.
But then—something inside him snapped.
Out of his mouth came a scream. But not of fear. Not pain. Not sorrow.
This was something ancient.
A scream of pure rage.
The world around Rin stopped.
Not metaphorically.
Literally.
The wind paused. The axe froze mid-air. Dust lingered mid-fall. The world locked in place like a paused painting.
Rin could still move.
But everything else…
Was frozen.
It felt wrong. It felt like cheating fate. He couldn't tell how long it would last. But he knew he had one chance.
With one swift motion, he grabbed his opponent's axe.
And in a single clean swing, he carved a gash across the boy's neck—deep, brutal.
But the head did not fall.
Not yet.
The world was still paused.
Rin didn't hesitate.
He dropped the axe and ran.
He didn't look back.
Seconds later, reality snapped back into motion.
A horrifying scream echoed through the arena.
The body slumped to the ground—head now separated, eyes still wide in disbelief. Blood pooled quickly, staining the stone.
Right where Rin once stood—only the corpse remained.
Player Count: 12.
He had escaped again.
But for how long?