All the players emerged from their rooms, tense and watching the doors lining the vast arena. Each door bore a lit sign: the number of players required, the game type, team or individual. The sound of mechanical drums buzzed in the background, and the smell of hot iron filled the place.
Amid the crowd, Mouse's eyes stopped on a red door.
The sign read:
Required: 49/50
Mode: Individual
He didn't hesitate. Something inside him wanted to test himself alone, to know if his choice to avoid teams was correct. He reached out his hand to the cold handle and opened the door.
He entered a long corridor lit by faint white lights, with rows of other players on either side, each in their own passage. At the end of each corridor stood armed robots, their red eyes glowing like embers.
Then the Master's voice came from the speakers, its echo crawling along the walls:
– "Don't worry… They won't shoot you. Or rather… not yet."
His metallic laugh echoed before he continued:
–"The game is simple: Before you is a circular maze. Fifty robots circle the circular maze incessantly, preventing any gaps and blocking your exit through the doors. Your mission: Reach the center of the maze, retrieve the wristband, and return to one of the fifty doors. But beware… If you encounter a single automaton in your corridor, you will be killed instantly. You have only half an hour."
He paused for a moment, his voice lowering as if about to reveal a dangerous secret:
–"But before we begin… I want to show you something you've never seen in your lives. To remind you why you are here."
The ceiling suddenly opened.
Light rushed in,real sunlight. Pure, harsh heat struck their faces. The players covered their eyes; some laughed at the intensity of the brightness, others cried as they looked at the blue sky for the first time.
Mouse raised his steady hand towards the light, the sun reflecting in his single eye. For a brief moment, he felt a freedom he had never known. Then the ceiling closed again, leaving them in the artificial darkness.
– "Enough dreams. The game begins now."
The countdown started.
Most players ran with frantic speed,as if fleeing imminent death. But Mouse did not run. He stood at the start of his corridor, staring at the line drawn on the ground. He realized the truth: Crossing the line towards the door would get you killed by the robot; the bullets would claim your soul before you took another step.
He began calculating precisely.
The automatons'patrol followed a fixed pattern: three seconds of empty space, then a metallic sweep, then another brief gap. He said silently This challenge is nearly impossible. He set off with measured, quiet steps, like a shadow. While the others ran like madmen, Mouse moved as if dancing with death, knowing the maze was just a structure—the real challenge was the exit corridor.
After minutes, he reached the center of the maze. There was an illuminated platform with wristbands stacked on it. Only one remained. He picked it up, put it on his wrist, then raised his head to notice the quiet had been a trick.
The walls around him began to move. The passages changed, everything shifted to reconfigure itself. There was no fixed path anymore.
– "Damn it…" he whispered, clenching his fist.
He turned back, but every corridor ended in a blocked wall. Time was melting away rapidly. Only ten minutes remained, and Mouse was still trapped in the center, the maze coiling around him like a perfect trap.