The color red dominates the surroundings—drowning in a sea of blood.
His eyes, glassy and fixed on the ceiling, held no life—only the echo of terror, frozen in its final, wrenching moment. silent testament to the terror he had experienced.
To the spectators, it was mere entertainment, a bloodstained thrill where lives were currency and suffering was the price of admission. They watched from the shadows, their whispers laced with greed, their bets placed on how long the doomed would last.
But for those who are trapped, it was no game.
Every breath was a gamble. Every step could be their last. Survival was not a prize—it was a fleeting illusion, dangling by a thread as thin as a blade's edge.
An insane and brittle laugh shattered the silence. She emerge from the shadows, a woman with bloodstained hands, with a twisted smile etched on her face.
"I-I did it..haha..hahaha" she whispered, her voice barely a murmur. She pressed her bloody palm to her head, as if trying to stem a tide of madness.
"W-where's the c-card?...where is it?!" her voice trembled, frantically searching the man's pockets.
The man's corpse lay cold beneath her searching hands—his pockets limp, his stillness mocking her desperation. Her fingers trembled, tracing the seams of his jacket, the folds of his trousers, every brush against his lifeless body.
Then—there. A sharp corner pressed into her palm. She yanked it free, and a glowing rectangle was obtained—the golden card.
"Seven...hahaha, finally!"
A laugh came out from her throat, yet it's more a sob than joy. She staggered to her feet, her body moving with the eerie precision of someone clinging to the edge of control. The shift of her weight, the uncoiling of her limbs—each motion was calculated, as if one wrong step might shatter her completely.
The exit loomed ahead, a glimpse of hope in this slaughterhouse.
"Finally! A little more and I can escape this damn game!" she breathed, clutching the bloodstained paper to her chest. Her laughter cracked again, this time edged with something wild—something like hope. "Just one more card, and it'll all be over!"
The chipped paint of the door frame dug into her knuckles as she gripped it, knuckles bone-white. A quick glance at the luminous numbers on the wall clock–5:50 AM–ignited a spark of fierce hope in her chest. Just ten minutes. Ten more minutes until she was free from this suffocating hell.
Her eyes locked onto the telephone. She lunged for it, fingers scrambling over the keys, each button press a whispered plea. Let this work. Let this work.
The dial tone erupted—a jagged, electronic lifeline. Her breath hitched. For one delirious second, it was the most beautiful sound she'd ever heard. A single tear drip from her left eye.
Not grief. Not fear. Hope.
Then silence.
The line died mid-ring, as if it was intentional.
She redialed. Again. Again.
Ring.
Ring.
—beep.
Nothing.
It wasn't just a dead call. It was confirmation: no one was coming.
The hope in her chest didn't fade—it shattered, glass on concrete, leaving something sharper behind.
"Shit!" she whispered, her voice full of despair. "No one's answering...What do I do? I'm not ready to die!"
"SHIT!" that scream escaped from her lips, a raw, desperate whisper. She smashed against the wall, handset splintered, keys skittering across the floor. Useless. Just like everything else here.
Her breath came in weak, ragged gasps—too shallow, too fast. Her lungs burned. Her heart hammered against her ribs like a caged thing.
"Shit! Shit! Shit! What am I going to do?!" she buried her face in her hands, the world shrinking with the rapid beating of her own pulse. "I don't want to die yet!"
"It's almost six o'clock. If I just hide, they won't be able to find me, right?" a nervous laugh escaped her lips, but it was quickly swallowed by a wave of fear.
"I'll just hide for now...but where?" she scanned the room, her eyes darting around, searching for any signs of movement, any hint of danger. A cold shiver ran through her body as she noticed a door on the left side of the hallway, near the window. It seemed to beckon her, promising refuge from the horrors lurking in the shadows.
As she approached the door, a glimmer caught her eye, a flash of light in the periphery. Like a lightning strike illuminating the darkness, it drew her gaze upwards. Her eyes widened—a golden card!
It was hanging just above the ventilation shaft, gleaming like a star in the dark.
So close yet so far.
The eighth card glinted in the dim light, its edges catching the faint glow like a promise. Freedom. Not just from this slaughterhouse game—but from everything. Eight billion pesos. A lifetime of debts erased. A long bribe to oneself.
Her fingers twitched.
Then—she froze.
Her boots might as well have been cemented to the floor. Her mind split open, two voices screaming:
"Run. You have seven. Survive."
"Reach. Eight means winning. Eight means never being poor again."
Until 6 am. That's all she'd need to hide—to slink into the shadows and slither out alive. Empty-handed.
Or.
She could lunge for the card. Risk her life into the dangers, the things that had turned the others into meat.
A gamble. A death sentence.
A goddamn miracle.
Her breath hitched. The card shimmered.
"What should I do?"
The clock's glowing digits mocked her: 5:55 AM. Five minutes.
Five minutes to freedom—or oblivion.
Her heart slammed against her ribs, a frenzied rhythm like war drums before battle. Each breath sawed through her throat, raw and metallic. But beneath the fear, something hotter burned: resolve.
She would take the card.
No hesitation. No regrets.
Chairs screeched as she dragged them across the floor, their legs leaving claw-marks in the blood-smeared tiles. She stacked them with trembling hands, each wobbling tier bringing her closer to the shimmering prize. The tower swayed—precarious, desperate—just like her.
Once she had secured her makeshift ladder, she climbed up. The chairs provided some support, but her legs trembled with each step. It felt like a mountaineer walking along the edge of a cliff, every movement is a risk. The golden card shimmered just beyond her fingertips, its surface reflecting the sickly fluorescent lights like a mocking wink.
As her hand were near around the prize, the ventilation grate rattled. A whisper in her mind urged her to look inside the vent. The euphoria of near-victory curdled in her veins. Her lungs seized mid-breath, transforming triumphant gasps into shallow, panicked hitches. The pounding in her chest wasn't excitement anymore—it was a primal warning.
Tap.
Her head snapped toward the sound. The vent's black maw seemed to pulse, the darkness within too thick.
Tap-tap.
Closer now. Rhythmic. Purposeful.
Not humans.
Not rats.
Something with nails was moving in the ductwork.
The realization struck like a physical blow: she wasn't claiming a prize. She was baited.
"Shit! Shit! Shit!"
The words tore from her throat in a strangled gasp as her eyes flickered between the gleaming card and the advancing darkness in the vent. The shadow she had seen earlier was quickly approaching her.
Every instinct screamed at her to grab the card and run, but her body froze for one critical second too long.
A presence. Coming closer.
She whirled around just as something heavy crashed into her shoulder. The impact sent shockwaves of pain through her body, and the unstable tower of chairs shuddered violently beneath her.
For a terrifying moment, the world tilted.
Wood splintered. Metal screeched.
Then she was falling—
—falling—
—until the ground rushed up to meet her with a crack that echoed through the room.
She felt something trickling down the right side of her face, accompanied by a sharp, stinging pain.
It was blood.
A sharp, white-hot pain lanced through her skull, so intense her vision flickered.
Her right eye is now gone.
Not just blinded. Ruined. The world tilted, her depth perception shattered as blood seeped into what remained of the socket. A metallic tang filled her mouth where she'd bitten her tongue.
Then the pain surged, a tidal wave of agony, and—
She screamed.
"AAGH! FUCK! I'LL KILL ALL OF YOU! YOU MOTHERFUCKERS! DO YOU ENJOY WATCHING PEOPLE DIE?! YOU LUNATICS! YOU SICKOS! IF THAT'S WHAT YOU WANT, THEN YOU SHOULD BE THE ONES PLAYING! FUCKERS!" the rage building in her chest erupted in the form of curses. Coarse and loud expletives spilled from her mouth as she watched the humanoid figures surrounding her. "SHIT!"
Slowly, like zombies approaching, the humanoid figures drew nearer.
Their bodies were covered in blood—the color darkened, a sign that the blood had long since dried.
"I've spent four days trying to survive, and this is how it ends for me?! Fuck that shit! I will survive! And when I do, I'll take you all down one by one!" she stood up from her fallen position, ignoring the pain in her face. She threw broken chairs at the humanoid figures, but it had no effect. They continued to advance, like lifeless beings seeking for flesh.
"Damn it!..." she snarled, staring down at the man she'd killed. "...If I'd known this would've happened, I wouldn't have taken you out first! You should be the one with the messed-up face! Not me!" a strangled cry tore from her throat, a mix of pain and rage.
"Agh!"
Tears streaked her cheeks, hot and unchecked, as her emotions unraveled. A hollow laugh escaped her—part sob, part whimper—before dying in her throat. When no footsteps came, she dared to lift her gaze.
The figures had stopped.
Completely. Utterly still.
Like puppets with their strings cut.
Her breath hitched. What was happening?
Then—
The sound of heavy mechanisms grinding shut reverberated through the room. Her head snapped toward the noise—
The door!
No time to wonder, she let go of the golden card even though the humanoid figures were in circles near her, like a cage waiting to trap her, she headed straight for the center of the path—the only way out.
She ran quickly, a desperate flight fueled by adrenaline and the fragile hope of escape. Her feet, light as if winged, carried her away from the horrors she'd left behind.
A smile, tentative but genuine, stretched across her lips–a smile born of freedom, of near-miraculous survival.
A reckless confidence born of exhaustion and the belief that the grotesque humanoid figures remained frozen, immobile sentinels in the chamber she'd fled.
An unexpected force slammed into her, sending her sprawling onto the cold, hard floor. The breath rushed from her lungs, her body screaming in protest as pain flared in delayed waves.
She hadn't seen it. Hadn't expected it.
Now, a thick, swirling fog clouded her mind, her vision darkening at the edges like ink bleeding into paper.
Slowly...the world faded—shapes dissolving, colors smearing into a murky haze.
Painfully...her body awoke to the agony she hadn't felt at first—every limb heavy, every nerve alight with a deep, throbbing ache.
Gritting her teeth, she forced herself up, palms scraping against rough concrete. Her remaining good eye strained against the encroaching darkness, searching for what had struck her—
Then, she saw it.
Her breath hitched in her throat.
Her heart, which had been pounding a frantic rhythm of escape, simply stopped. A new wave of fear enveloped her, stronger than anything she had experienced before.
A figure stood before her—motionless. Silent. Just like the others she'd passed.
But this one was different.
It wasn't a wall. Wasn't debris.
It had moved.
"No no no no!"
The massive animatronic bear loomed over her, its metal skin drenched in dark, glistening blood. Its face—frozen in a wide, rictus grin—stretched too far, too wide, like a predator savoring the fear of its prey. Sunken, glowing eyes burned into hers, unblinking.
And its teeth—jagged, rusted metal, each one a serrated knife. Its claws, long and hooked, twitched as if aching to sink into flesh.
A choked gasp escaped her lips.
"T-this can't be happening! You assholes! Fuck all of you! No no no! Don't come near me, you piece of shit!" she shouted in frustration as she backed away, tears streaming down her cheeks.
She was about to pass by the humanoid figures on her right, but they wouldn't budge or move; they stood like statues in front of her. Fear gradually wrapped around her mind.
The bear's head tilted with a mechanical creak.
And then—
It lunged.
Just as she was about to run, that massive bear suddenly grabbed her.
Its right hand tightly clasped her body while it slowly yet painfully seized her right arm and pulled her upward with a fierce strength.
Her heart raced, pounding like a drum reaching the peak of fear.
"AAAHHH!!!!!"
Her hand was severed, and the red blood flowed again.
The floor was filled with various shades of blood, the color becoming a symbol of her fear and suffering. Only her screams resonated, echoing throughout the space, like a cry lost in the wind.
It then proceeded to take her left hand. It twisted and pulled again before finally consuming it. Her voice faded, her words becoming echoes in her mind.
"......"
A sickening crack split the air—wet, splintering—as the animatronics claws closed around her right leg.
Her scream tore through the chamber, raw and guttural, but the walls absorbed it like a tomb swallowing its dead. The creature paused, its grotesque grin stretching wider, savoring the vibrations of her agony in the air. Then—with a hydraulic hiss—it wrenched.
Tendons snapped. Bone shattered. A geyser of warm crimson painted the floor in glistening arcs.
Before shock could numb the pain, cold metal fingers clamped around her left leg. It stretched her limb slowly—too slowly—joints popping, muscles fraying like overstrung wires. She barely recognized the animalistic shrieks as her own. Then—CRUNCH—the severing. A butcher's cleaver through marrow.
Her vision swam in and out, the creature's face swimming above her—that smile, that endless, rusted smile—as it discarded her twitching limbs like scrap metal.
Then it leaned in.
Frozen breath reeking of copper and grease washed over her face as its claws cradled her skull.
With a sickening crunch, it grab her head, twist it, and pull hard enough to separate her head from her body, taking the spinal cord along with it. With one motion, it lifted her body and drank her blood as if it were mere beverage.
The bear's eyes gleaming in a cold, inhuman light, began to devour her body.
It gnawed on the flesh with a savage relish, the sound of its teeth crunching through bone echoing through the chamber. Each bite seemed a deliberate, agonizing act of destruction, a mockery of the pain it inflicted.
When her body was nothing but a pile of bones, it turned its attention to her head.
It clamped its lips around the mangled face, sucking on the flesh with a horrifying intensity. Her head throbbed, her left eye staring blankly into the darkness, while a single tear traced a path down her cheek.
With a bored face, the bear tossed her head aside, leaving her lifeless gaze fixed on the ceiling.
The chamber was silent, save for the dripping of blood and the faint echo of the bear's ragged breathing.
The air was thick with the scent of death, a chilling reminder of the horrors that lurked in the shadows.
The bear animatronic absence left a chilling void.
The other animatronics dissolves into the shadows like phantoms in its wake.
A piercing shriek tore through the silence—the shrill ring of a phone, a cold, metallic rasp that echoed through the empty halls.
It is laughing.
An answer that reminds her about her fate—a puppet on unseen strings, manipulated by a malevolent hand.
..........
..........
..........
..........
..........
The phone's laughter wasn't just distorted—it was mocking.
A gnarled, glitching sound, like a recording of a scream played backward through a dying radio. It didn't just laugh at her—it laughed for them.
"I'm sorry," the voice crooned, saccharine and cruel, each word dripping with the same false sympathy she'd heard a hundred times before. "No one can come to the phone right now."
"Why?" The voice dropped to a whisper, thick with amusement. "Ohhh... because—"
A burst of static, then a chorus of muffled screams—familiar voices, cut short.
"YOU'RE ALL DEAD!"