Ficool

Chapter 9 - Chapter 9: Blood on the Roster

Jaylen G.

That was the name on the screen when he died.

A complete stranger—gone in seconds.

And now, the Game was real.

I didn't sleep that night.

Didn't go home either.

I wandered until my legs gave out, mind spiraling between shock and confusion. I finally crashed at Tempus's house—told him I just needed a place to crash, didn't give details.

He didn't ask.

He knew something was up.

Morning came fast.

School came faster.

But everything was wrong.

I sat through first period, second, and third—but none of it stuck. The world felt off. Too bright. Too loud. Too alive.

How are people laughing right now?

Don't they feel it?

Don't they know death is watching?

Lunchtime.

Cafeteria packed. The usual chaos.

I grabbed a tray and sat alone—corner table, back wall, clear view of exits.

Paranoid?

Absolutely.

But then—

He sat across from me.

Tall. Brown skin. Braids down his shoulders. Black hoodie with skull patches, silver chains, and a confident stare like he knew everything about me.

"Yo," he said, casually opening a soda.

"…Can I help you?" I asked.

"You're Trey, right?"

I stared at him. "Do I know you?"

He grinned. "Not yet. But we're both in the Game."

That hit me like a slap.

My fork dropped onto the tray.

"How do you—?"

"Same mark," he said, tapping his chest. "You lit up yesterday. Got spotted. That means you're active now."

"…Who are you?"

"Name's Keon. Reaper-Grade. Role: Hunter. Day one drop."

Hunter? There are classes?

"You knew Jaylen?" I asked.

Keon's smile faded. "He didn't last twelve hours. Not his fault. They threw him in raw."

I leaned in. "How many of us are there?"

"Twelve marked total," Keon said. "Down to eleven now. You're the Catalyst. Special piece. That makes you a target and an asset."

So people already know my role… Great.

Before I could say anything else, two more figures slid into the booth beside us.

The first was a girl—short, mocha skin, buzzcut dyed neon green. Sharp hazel eyes. Combat boots on the cafeteria table like she didn't care.

She tossed me a wrapped cookie from her tray.

"You looked stressed. Eat something, 'Chosen One.'"

"…Thanks?"

"Name's Vix. Role: Trickster. I bend rules. Break expectations. Occasionally stab things."

Keon snorted. "She means she likes chaos."

Vix winked.

The second figure was quieter.

Tall, thin, pale—too pale. Long silver hair, black lipstick, deep violet eyes. They wore all black, rings on every finger, and hadn't touched their food once.

"This is Orion," Vix said. "Don't let the vampire look fool you. They're dangerous."

Orion glanced at me.

"You dream of rivers," they said. Voice calm. Cold. Smooth like silk draped over a knife.

I blinked. "What?"

"You floated before you woke up. Right? A river of darkness. Saw your death before you were born again."

How could they know that?

Orion tilted their head, like hearing my thoughts. "The Mark doesn't just burn. It remembers."

Keon leaned forward. "Listen, Trey. We don't all trust each other. But some of us know better than to try and solo this. The Reapers aren't just out to kill us."

"They're hunting us for sport," Vix added. "Each death powers their Phase engine."

"Wait—Phase engine?" I asked.

"They feed on player energy," Orion said softly. "Each time someone dies, the veil thins."

"Thins for what?"

No answer.

Just a chill silence.

Then Keon spoke again. "We're forming a faction. A temporary alliance, if you want in."

I hesitated. "Why me?"

"You're the Catalyst," Vix said. "Your existence changes everything. People will fight to control you. Others will kill to stop you."

"We'd rather you didn't die," Keon added.

Orion slid a paper napkin across the table. It had coordinates on it—an address.

"Tonight. 9 PM. Come alone. Or don't come at all."

They stood and walked off.

Leaving me sitting alone again.

But not the same kind of alone.

Now I knew what I was part of.

Now I had names. Faces. Roles.

Now I had a decision.

The Game wasn't coming.

It had already begun.

More Chapters