knives, others with tools, some with vehicles, some with weapons. Don't count on balance. The real universe has never been fair. Why would I spoil that tradition?"
Some faces immediately turned toward whoever was holding anything useful. Mike noticed. And he knew others had noticed his gun. Great. Organized fear is still better than stupid courage.
"You will receive access to a help panel. It will contain basic information, chat, trades, sales, auctions, and additional features that will be unlocked based on performance, level, and usefulness for the show. Use it as a tool, not as a crutch. Those who stare at menus too much usually die without finishing reading them."
A nervous laugh escaped from somewhere. He died instantly.
"Monsters inhabit this planet. Many types. Many sizes. Many moods. Some will drop items after being slain. Food, medicine, fuel, tools, weapons in various states, special objects, and most importantly, cores. Remember that word well. Cores. They strengthen you and also function as currency for purchases in our occasional shops. The greater the risk, the greater the reward. The greater the difficulty of the monster, the greater the challenge and, generally, the better the prize. Generally. I love to leave room for disappointment."
The word "monsters" made the crowd stir again. Not like civilized people, but like a herd that heard the first growl in the woods. Mike kept listening. Not because I believed everything, but because information was ammunition.
"After killing the first monster, each of you will be able to choose a class. Choose carefully. Ah, this is one of my favorite parts. Want to be a mage? Excellent. But remember that spellcasting requires time, focus, and often, verbalization. While you recite your brilliant verses, someone more practical might be sticking a knife in your chest. Want to be a warrior? Very well. Come closer and pay the price in blood. Want to be a ranged character? You will find the joy and despair of depending on ammunition, maintenance, and luck. Want to be a stealthy character? Fantastic. Just don't complain when you encounter something that hears better than you breathe."
The wretch really loved to talk.
Mike discreetly glanced around. The group was already starting to separate, driven by a shared sense of fear. Two large men were drawing closer to each other more out of animal necessity than friendship. A girl with her hair tied back kept her distance from everyone, but her eyes never stopped calculating routes. A guy in a delivery jacket stared at a black car parked a few meters away as if he'd seen pure gold. So there were vehicles there after all. Great. Or terrible.
"And no," the voice continued, now lighter, almost playful, "you are not alone in the grand scheme of things. There are other planets. Other participants. Other worlds that, like yours, were destined for destruction. Consider this a pause before the end. A competitive opportunity, so to speak. The winning planet survives. The others… well. Imagine fire, silence, and cosmic irrelevance. In any order."
Many people simply couldn't process it all. Mike saw it in their faces. It was like trying to pour an ocean through a funnel. Some of the information just trickled out the other side.
"Therefore," the voice concluded with a satisfied glint impossible to ignore, "it's not just about continuing to breathe today. It's about making your planet worthy of continuing to exist. Kill, evolve, negotiate, forge alliances, betray, grow, enchant the public. We will be watching. And, for the attentive, sometimes even helping."
Mike heard a dry buzzing sound right in front of him. A translucent surface appeared for an instant a few inches from his eyes, like illuminated glass emerging from nowhere. Letters, symbols, empty fields. A panel, then. He ignored it for now. First the terrain, then the screen. Always.
The voice paused dramatically for a short time, the kind of pause calculated to let the fear grow another inch.
"Now, one last piece of information. Pay close attention, because this part usually ruins the mood of those who arrive full of foolish hope."
A complete silence fell. Even those who were crying weren't crying properly at that moment.
The voice smiled as it spoke. Mike was sure of it.
"If you die, there's no respawn."
A man let out a low, broken "no," as if his chest had forgotten how to hold its breath. A woman put both hands to her head. Another guy began to pray in a rushed whisper. Mike said nothing. He only felt the world tighten a little more. Now the main rule had been stated. Everything before was just a frame. This was the picture.
"Have fun," said the voice, as happy as a master of ceremonies opening the curtain on an expensive show. "And it's showtime."
She disappeared.
It didn't fade away. It had no echo. It simply ceased to exist. What remained in its place was the sound of the wind. The sound of dozens of strangers breathing. The sound of fear beginning to grow teeth.
For two seconds nobody moved.
In the third one, reality decided to enter the conversation.
A scream came from the right. Short. Sharp. Cut in half.
Mike turned his rifle before everyone else. About sixty meters away, near a low rock formation, a creature had emerged from behind a dry bush with the speed of a spring. It looked like a wolf, if a wolf had been designed by someone who hated their own creation. Too thin, too long, dark skin showing in patches beneath graying fur, teeth too long for its mouth, eyes as deep yellow as diseased lanterns. It had leaped at the throat of a short man in a blue t-shirt, knocking the man to the ground before the poor devil understood what he was seeing. Blood gushed in an absurd line, too red in that bright light.
The crowd erupted.
People running everywhere, people screaming, people pushing, people falling. Pure, homemade panic, without direction. The kind of chaos that kills more than the monster.
Mike was already aiming.
The creature tore a chunk out of the man's neck and raised its head, focusing on its next prey. A shot rang out dry and heavy, cutting through the chaos like a hammer through glass. The recoil hit Mike's shoulder with almost comforting familiarity. The creature spun in the air before even leaping, struck in the side of its skull. It fell rolling, hit the ground, tried to rise in a spasmodic contortion, and received a second shot before completing the movement.
This time it worked.
The sound still reverberated as several heads turned toward Mike. Fear, hope, envy, calculation. All mixed together. He already hated them all a little at that moment.
His gun was still smoking slightly. The attacked man on the ground thrashed about in short, futile reflexes, his blood soaking the cracked earth. There was nothing more to be done. Mike didn't look away. There was no room for organized pity there. The world had already made that clear in the first minute.
Then the panel shone brightly before his eyes.
Slaughter reading confirmed.
FIRST MONSTER ELIMINATED.
ACCESS TO CLASS CHOICE AVAILABLE.
At the same time, something small and opaque fell beside the creature's corpse with a dry sound. An object the size of a walnut, dark on the outside, with internal veins of red glow pulsing like buried embers. Core.
So it was really true.
Mike stared at it for a full second, understanding, on a cold, absolute level, that his old life had ended without warning the moment the ground ripped him from the roof. There was no target, no payment, no contact, no city, no way out, no police. There were new rules, monsters, invisible bystanders, and a crowd of frightened people who, sooner or later, would begin to understand that danger didn't only walk on four legs.
Around them, more sounds began to emerge. Distant growls. Crackling in the tall grass. A roar much farther away, much louder, which made some black birds take flight from a line of dry trees. The entire planet seemed to have waited for that final phrase from the voice to begin to stir.
Mike stood slowly, rifle steady, his eye scanning the field, the stones, the scattered cars, the people running, the possible routes, the weak, the clever, the potential dead. The panel pulsed, demanding a choice. The core glowed on the ground like a small heart ripped from the unknown.
He took two steps, picked up the core without lowering his guard too much, and felt the warm object in his hand, almost alive, as if it remembered the creature that carried it.
Behind him, someone shouted: "Hey! Hey! You! Help me!"
Mike didn't turn around.
Because the presenter's voice might have faded, but the phrase remained in his mind, as clear as freshly burned gunpowder.
If you die, there is no respawn.
He gripped the core in his hand, felt the weight of the rifle, gazed at the monstrous horizon of that planet, and took the first real step into the game.