Lyra felt the air shift around her.
One second she stood next to Rhea in the aftermath of Catch Your Breath… the next, a blinding flash split the floor, and she dropped.
Not through space — through silence.
When the light cleared, she stood in a square, windowless room. Four white walls. No door. No ceiling. Just four chairs.
She wasn't alone.
Three others appeared, just as dazed as she was.
A man in his late 30s with sharp, tired eyes and a bruised knuckle.
A girl no older than fourteen, clinging to herself.
And a woman in a black jumpsuit — silent, arms folded.
Then came the voice. Calm, clinical, and cruel:
"GAME 3: ROOM 109 INITIATED."
GAME RULES
1. You are placed in a group of four.
2. A single question will appear.
3. You must each present a logical answer.
4. After all have spoken, you vote for the best response — excluding yourself.
5. Least convincing player is eliminated.
6. Silence = disqualification.
7. Time limit: 5 minutes.
The rules etched themselves onto the walls in glowing text. Then vanished.
In their place appeared a question, written in blazing red across the center screen:
"If the world ends tomorrow, who deserves to survive, and why?"
The room went still.
The girl whimpered.
The older man cleared his throat. "Name's Darren. 061. We're supposed to talk, right?" He gave a half-smile, then stood up, cracking his neck.
"Simple. People like me survive. Fighters. I've been in prison, warzones, hellholes. When the world burns, you don't need poets — you need wolves. I survive because I know how to."
He sat back down, smug.
The girl — Player 244 — sniffled. "I don't know what to say. I just… I don't wanna die. I'm not smart, or strong. But… I'm kind. Doesn't that matter?"
No one answered her.
The silent woman didn't speak at all. She just stared ahead — expression blank.
Lyra felt her heart race. But she stood.
"My name's Lyra. 109. Survival isn't just about strength. It's about adaptability. Logic. Knowing when to speak and when to stay quiet. I don't claim to deserve it more than anyone… but I know how to think. If tomorrow ends, we need minds that bend — not break."
The girl gave a small nod.
The timer appeared on the wall: 1 minute left.
Still, the woman in the black suit said nothing.
"PLAYER 301: SILENT. ELIMINATED."
No scream. No protest. Just a sudden jolt through her chair, and then her body slumped forward — lifeless. Gone.
Lyra's breath caught in her throat.
"PROCEED TO VOTE."
On the screen, three names appeared:
Player 061
Player 244
Player 109
"Vote now. You may not vote for yourself."
The man — Darren — cursed. "The hell kind of rule is that?"
He pressed his own name.
"Invalid vote."
He slammed the chair. "Stupid system—"
"Pick someone," Lyra said, quiet but firm.
He muttered under his breath and finally tapped 244.
The girl hesitated, then looked at Lyra and chose her.
Lyra chose the girl.
The results flashed:
Player 109: 1 vote
Player 244: 1 vote
Player 061: 0 valid votes
"PLAYER 061: ELIMINATED."
Before he could swear again, the floor beneath his chair opened. He vanished in silence.
Lyra's knees weakened, but she didn't collapse.
"PLAYERS 109 & 244: CLEARED."
The room shimmered. The walls dissolved like fog.
She reappeared in a long corridor. White panels. Low lights.
Ahead of her, more players blinked into existence — survivors from other rooms. Some were crying. Others were blank-faced. Two people vomited on the floor.
A total of 378 remained.
From the far end of the corridor, a pair of cold silver eyes watched them all.
Player 027 stood motionless.
He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, expression unreadable.
Lyra didn't notice him. But he noticed her.
"Room 109… and she still survives."
He tilted his head as though listening to something no one else could hear.
"One more game. Then comes the Purge."
And he smiled.