Players Remaining: 148
The silence before a game was always worse than the game itself.
After Bridge of balance players were granted twelve hours in the Rest Bay—a sterile white dormitory lined with metal bunks and single-use food cartridges. It wasn't luxury, but it was the only peace they ever got.
Lyra sat at the edge of her bunk, staring at the blister on her palm. Her mind replayed the screams of those players who were eliminated. 119 players were now gone—vanished, erased, or crushed in silence.
Across the room, Kyro leaned against the wall, his arms crossed, always watching. He didn't sleep. Not much. Not really.
Rhea polished her lenses. Player 171 Ezra was trying to make a paper crane out of his food wrapper.
Everyone coped differently.
Then the lights flickered. A familiar chill swept the room.
"GAME 6 : INITIATED"
"GAME 6: EYE CONTACT"
GAME RULES :
1. Players are seated in pairs, at random.
2. First to look away from their partner is eliminated.
3. Blinking is allowed. But break eye contact and you're out.
4. Each pair gets one revolver. If both players hold eye contact for 10 minutes, the gun is activated. First to grab it decides the fate.
CONSEQUENCE:
Break eye contact ➤ you die.
Shoot the other ➤ they die.
Refuse to shoot ➤ both survive… but at a cost.
Special Note: If neither breaks, but no one shoots, one of you is chosen at random to die. Mercy is rare here.
"TIME LIMIT: 10 minutes per round."
"Room 109 – All Players. Proceed."
They followed blinking floor lights into a large, circular room. In the center sat pairs of chairs, facing each other. A loaded pistol sat on a pedestal between each set.
The game room is dim. One blinding spotlight glares down on each of the 74 tables — each table with two players seated face to face.
A single chair.
A single gun between them.
And one simple rule:
"First to look away… dies."
"You blink, you break. You die."
Lyra's hands twitch under the table, but her expression stays still. Her opponent — a girl with silver braids and tearful eyes — can barely meet her gaze.
Across the room, silence reigns. The countdown begins.
3.
Kyro flexes his fingers, staring into the eyes of a tall, bulky man with bloodied knuckles.
He doesn't blink. He doesn't move.
2.
Ezra mouths something inappropriate. His opponent doesn't laugh. No one does.
1.
Click. The lights dim. And the standoff begins.
Ten Minutes In
Eyes water. Breaths hitch. The gun in the center begins ticking — a new twist.
One minute. One bullet. One survivor.
When the timer ends, the screen above every table flashes:
"Shooter: Decide."
If both players keep eye contact, no one pulls the trigger.
If one breaks, the other must fire — or both will be eliminated.
But the twist?
"It's all fake."
There are no real bullets. No real deaths.
But the players don't know that.
Table 28
The girl across from Lyra shivers, lips trembling. Her eyes flicker away — just for a second.
The gun slides toward Lyra.
She doesn't move.
"Player 109 — Shooter. 30 seconds."
Everyone watches.
Ezra closes his eyes, whispering a fake prayer for her.
Kyro doesn't even flinch. He watches her closely.
"She won't shoot," he mutters.
"How do you know?" Rhea asks.
"...Because she doesn't kill out of fear."
At the last second, Lyra aims the gun—
And fires.
A click. Nothing.
No blood. No fall.
Just a mechanical voice:
"Shot recorded. Table cleared."
The other girl is dragged away, screaming.
Everyone assumes she's dead.
But behind a wall, she collapses into a clean white hallway.
A female staffer hands her a warm drink.
"You passed."
"Passed what?"
"The Game of Nerves. Welcome to the ghost ranks."
Back in the Arena
Player after player shoots. Some cry. Some scream. Some collapse.
Most believe they've killed someone.
Even Kyro.
He fires.
Click.
No death. But the silence afterward?
Louder than a gunshot.
Only 74 players remain visible.
The other 74 are "gone" — presumed dead.
But the system screen?
"Players Remaining: 148." (Hidden. Unrevealed to players.)
Lyra doesn't sleep that night.
Not because she fired the gun.
But because she knows the game is watching.
And so is someone else — the man who never blinked.
The system screen
"PLAYER COUNT - 74 REMAINING"