The survivors of Zone 4 stood in a scattered, battered group, their eyes locked on the opening that had just appeared in the far wall of the arena. A cold wind filtered through the trees, carrying the scent of death, sweat, and fear.
Ethan's heart was still racing. The adrenaline hadn't fully worn off. He could still feel the heavy weight of the gorilla's breath on his neck as it charged, still hear the sickening crack of bones breaking when it slammed its victims into the ground.
He wiped the blood from his cheek—most of it wasn't his, but it didn't make him feel any cleaner. His hand shook as he gripped the machete he had used to survive. The blade, now stained with dark red streaks, felt heavier than it had before.
Ethan turned to look at the other survivors. Jade was by his side, her eyes wide but calculating. The girl who had been crying earlier now stood with her back straight, a look of hardened resolve on her face. She had shed her tears long ago, replacing them with something else.
A man with a patchy beard and a torn shirt walked over to them. His name was Dorian—he was ex-military, judging by the way he carried himself, despite his ragged appearance.
"You're still alive," Dorian said, his voice gruff. He nodded toward the others. "All of you. We work together, we might just make it through. But I'm telling you now—we have to stay sharp. That gorilla? That was just Round One. It's gonna get worse."
Ethan didn't have the energy to argue. He barely had the energy to think. But Dorian was right. It had been too easy—if one could call that bloodbath easy.
Jade's voice broke through the silence. "What now? We've killed the beast, but we're not free, are we? There's no way they'll just let us go."
Ethan looked back toward the screen, which flickered again, this time showing the face of Mr. V, his cold smile stretched wide across the screen. The lights flickered behind him, casting an eerie glow over his sharp features.
"Ah, well done, Zone 4! A few deaths, a lot of blood, but ultimately, survival! A fantastic first round, wouldn't you agree? Seventeen of you remain. For the rest, there's always the option to… opt out. But no one here has chosen that path, have they?"
The screen flickered again, showing the remaining contestants, all of them covered in grime, blood, or both. Their faces were filled with a mixture of anger, fear, and determination. For a moment, it felt like they weren't just contestants in some sick game, but real people who had been forced into this nightmare. It made Ethan sick.
But before he could say anything, Mr. V continued.
"You've all proven your worth by defeating the beast. Congratulations! Now, it's time to move on to Round Two. I hope you're ready. This one will be even more thrilling. But first, let's take a little break. Time to clean yourselves up, stretch your legs. You've earned it."
The screen cut out.
The doors in front of them slowly opened, revealing a new set of corridors leading deeper into the arena complex. A series of metal gates lined the walls, leading to separate rooms, each marked with a different symbol.
Ethan didn't trust the "break." There was always something more. Something worse. The elites weren't in this for entertainment—they were in it for control. And the only way to control people was to make them think they had a choice, even when they didn't.
"Stay close," Dorian said, moving toward the nearest door. He wasn't asking; he was telling.
Ethan nodded, keeping Jade close. The group moved through the narrow corridor, past walls that were lined with cameras. Even in the darkness, they could feel the eyes on them, the invisible presence of those watching, judging, waiting for the next bit of chaos to unfold.
At the end of the hall, they reached a large, steel door. It slid open with a mechanical hum, and the group stepped into a small, sterile room that smelled faintly of disinfectant. A single table sat in the center, surrounded by chairs. There were no windows, no ventilation. Just a thick, heavy air.
Before anyone could speak, the door shut behind them, sealing them in.
A loudspeaker crackled to life.
"Welcome to the Break Room, survivors. Here, you will have exactly thirty minutes to rest, recover, and prepare. Food will be provided. But be warned: This is no time to let your guard down. Round Two is coming. And it will be far more difficult than anything you've faced so far. Stay sharp, and remember: only one will leave with the billion dollars."
The group stood in silence. Ethan could hear his own breath echo in his chest. His muscles burned from the fight, his hands were slick with blood, and his mind was a blur of images from the fight—faces, screams, the gorilla's roar. He needed rest, but he couldn't let himself forget where he was.
He moved toward the table, where several covered trays sat. The smell of cooked food wafted through the air, making his stomach growl despite the chaos. He grabbed a tray and sat down, eating quickly, trying not to think about the implications of the food's origin. Who knew how long it had been sitting here?
Beside him, Jade picked at her food, not hungry, but eating anyway. She kept her eyes on the door, her fingers tapping nervously on the edge of the tray.
"This is insane," she muttered. "We're in some kind of twisted circus, Ethan. They're just going to keep sending us into these… trials. How do we even survive this?"
Ethan didn't have an answer. The words hung in the air between them, heavy and grim. He took another bite, barely tasting it.
"I don't know," he said quietly. "But we'll have to keep going. For now, just keep your head down. We need to think clearly."
Across the room, Dorian was talking to another man, who had been quiet until now. He was tall, lanky, with a mess of dark hair. His face was covered in dirt and blood, but his eyes were sharp, calculating.
"I don't trust this break," the man said, his voice low. "They're giving us a chance to recover—but only to use us for the next round. They won't stop until there's one person left standing."
Dorian nodded, his expression serious. "You're right. But there's no way to stop this. The only choice we have is to survive. And maybe… maybe if we work together, we can get to the end."
Ethan glanced up, feeling a spark of something—determination, or maybe just desperation. They didn't know what was coming, but they couldn't afford to wait for the next round to start.
The clock on the wall ticked down. Thirty minutes. The briefest respite before the storm.
Ethan's mind raced, his eyes scanning the room. He thought of the others. The weak, the broken, the ones who would fall without even realizing it. How many would survive the next round? How many would die?
Then Mr. V's voice came through the speakers again.
"Time's up. It's time to head to the Arena. Round Two is about to begin. Remember, the prize awaits the last person standing. The rest? Well, they won't be forgotten… by anyone."
The door slid open again.
And the survivors stood, their faces hardening with the knowledge that the game wasn't even close to over.