A white flash invaded everyone’s consciousness.

  It wasn’t just light — it was an invasion. A direct assault on the mind, erasing thoughts, memories, and senses in a single instant. Then came silence.

  An absolute silence, so heavy it felt like it was pressing against their ears from the inside. For a few seconds — or minutes, no one could tell — no one breathed. No one moved. It was as if the very concept of time had been ripped out of place.

  When their vision finally adjusted, reality revealed its absurdity.

  They were floating.

  There was no ground. No sky. No horizon. Only an infinite void filled with solid, almost blinding white light that seemed to exist in all directions at once. It wasn’t clear whether that space had limits — or if it was a dimension created solely to swallow consciousness.

  Steve felt his stomach churn.

  His body wasn’t falling, rising, or spinning. It simply… existed. An unnatural state that made his brain scream that something was terribly wrong.

  Beside him, Kuto held his arms stiff, eyes sharp, trying to identify patterns where perhaps none existed. Júlia took deep breaths, fists clenched, forcing her body not to panic.

  Around them, more people appeared — hundreds.

  Two hundred and forty-eight, to be exact.

  Young people, adults, men, women. Ordinary clothes. Broken expressions. Some cried silently. Others spun their bodies in desperation, as if expecting to touch something solid. Some screamed names. Some prayed. Others simply stared into the void, already defeated.

  — What… what is this?! — shouted a guy wearing dark glasses, his voice trembling. He stretched his hands out, opening and closing his fingers as if he could grab the air.

  — Is this some kind of reality show?! — yelled a woman in a business suit, trying to assert authority. — Where are the cameras?!

  No one answered.

  The murmurs grew. Turned into screams. Chaos spread like fire through dry straw. Some tried to “run” through the void, colliding with one another. Others stood frozen, fear trapping them inside their own bodies.

  Then… something changed.

  The white light above them distorted.

  A figure appeared, floating naturally, as if the void were his home.

  He was a young man with messy red hair, vibrant like flames. He wore simple clothes — white pants, black shirt — and a smile far too relaxed for someone standing before nearly two hundred and fifty panicking people.

  — Yoooo! — his voice echoed through the entire space, clear and far too cheerful. — Greetings, Nexus champions!

  Silence fell like a blade.

  Every gaze turned toward him.

  — I’m Zeylor — he continued, spreading his arms theatrically. — The host of this controlled… and slightly insane experience.

  — Experience?! — someone shouted. — You kidnapped us, you sick bastard!

  — I have a family! A job! — another screamed. — Get me out of here right now!

  Zeylor tilted his head thoughtfully, then laughed. A soft, almost musical laugh… completely wrong for that moment.

  — Ah… leaving. — He sighed. — That’s no longer an option.

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  The air seemed to grow heavier.

  — Inside here, real-world time is suspended. Outside? One minute passes. In here… — he smiled — every minute will be felt as an entire day.

  Panic exploded.

  Crying. Screaming. People clinging to each other. An older man clutched his chest, gasping, eyes wide with terror.

  Steve felt his heart race.

  His breathing became short, erratic. The image of the hospital room flooded his mind — the smell of medicine, the sound of machines, his mother’s weak hand holding his.

  “I just needed the money…” “Just that…”

  — Does this game really pay one billion to the winner? — Kuto’s voice cut through the chaos.

  Zeylor slowly spun in the air, eyeing him with interest.

  — Yes. One billion. — His eyes gleamed. — But only if you survive until the end. Survive is the keyword.

  — And if someone dies in here? — a young woman asked, barely whispering.

  Zeylor snapped his fingers.

  — Then they die out there too. The body turns into corrupted code. Poof. Never comes back.

  The collective scream echoed through the void.

  Steve felt his legs give out.

  — No… — he murmured, voice breaking. — No… this can’t be…

  Tears came before he could stop them.

  — I just wanted to take care of my mother… — his voice cracked. — NESIN! — he shouted, consumed by despair. — You put me into this!

  Zeylor did a somersault in the air, laughing.

  — Easy there, champion. — He pointed at the group. — You have one hour to choose your classes. After that… the game truly begins.

  Holograms appeared around each player, slowly rotating.

  Classes.

  Decisions.

  Fate.

  And Steve, trembling, realized with absolute terror:

  That choice would define who would live… and who would die first.

  The white void seemed quieter now.

  Not because fear had diminished — but because it had settled in. Like a disease. Like something permanent.

  The holograms floated before each player, rotating slowly, offering possibilities, promises, beautiful lies. Some touched their choices almost immediately, like grabbing a lifebuoy in open sea. Others hesitated, but eventually decided, pressured by invisible time.

  Steve couldn’t move.

  The hologram before him shimmered insistently, as if demanding attention. Classes. Paths. Survival. All of it felt too distant, too unreal, too heavy.

  His heart pounded. Fast. Painfully.

  His mind wouldn’t stop.

  His mother’s image on the hospital bed returned in brief flashes: the IV dripping, the monitor beeping, her tired eyes trying to smile to reassure him.

  “Just a little longer…” “Everything will be fine…”

  A lie.

  He remembered the app. The name promising easy money. The rushed tap on his phone. The stupid hope of solving everything with a lucky break.

  And now… this.

  — Steve… — Júlia’s voice reached him, distant. — Choose already.

  He tried to answer. His mouth opened. No sound came out.

  His hands trembled as if they’d lost any connection to his brain. His entire body felt heavy, as if gravity had finally decided to collect its debt there, in that non-place.

  Kuto had already made his choice. The energy around him felt more stable, more solid. Júlia too — firm, focused, breathing like someone who accepted the coming war.

  Steve felt ashamed.

  Ashamed of being weak.

  Ashamed of being afraid.

  Ashamed of not even being able to touch a damn sphere of light.

  Time was running out.

  There was no clock. But he felt it. Every second was a hammer striking his head. Every strike said the same thing: it’s ending… it’s ending… it’s ending…

  Then the space distorted once more.

  Zeylor reappeared, emerging in the white sky with an exaggerated flip, like a host stepping onto a stage.

  — Very well, dear players! — he announced, far too excited. — The class selection time is over!

  Some sighed in relief. Others smiled nervously. There were even timid claps — people clinging to the illusion of control.

  Zeylor spread his arms.

  — To those who chose… congratulations. — He winked. — To those who didn’t…

  His smile widened.

  — You’re fucked.

  The words pierced Steve like a bullet.

  Fucked.

  Fucked.

  Fucked.

  The echo repeated in his mind, distorted and cruel. Sweat streamed down his face and back as if he’d run a marathon. His legs grew too weak to support him.

  Even so, he forced his voice out.

  — H-hey… — he shouted, voice cracking amid the chaos. — Mr. Zeylor…!

  Some players looked at him. Others looked away, as if refusing to get involved with a condemned man.

  — For those who couldn’t choose… — Steve swallowed hard, his chest aching. — Isn’t there… isn’t there some way to help? Some way to survive?

  Zeylor tilted his head, pretending to think.

  Then laughed loudly.

  — Help? — He placed a hand on his chest theatrically. — Haha! Champion, the game is exactly about that. Those who don’t choose… learn the hard way. Or die trying.

  He moved closer to Steve, red eyes glowing.

  — Good luck. — He whispered. — You’re going to need a miracle.

  Something broke.

  Steve fell to his knees.

  It wasn’t dramatic. It was muscle failure. His body giving up before his mind. The void around him seemed to spin as a crushing weight settled in his chest.

  “It’s over…” “I failed…” “I’m sorry, mom…”

  Zeylor snapped his fingers.

  Light exploded.

  The players’ bodies began to glow intensely, digital lines forming across their skin, energy cracks running through arms, faces, eyes.

  — So that’s it — Zeylor announced cheerfully. — Our goodbye.

  He slowly spun in the air.

  — We’ll meet again in this very place… of course, only those who survive until reaching level 100.

  Bodies began to dissolve.

  Digital particles peeled off their skin, floating like luminous ash. One player screamed angrily:

  — You bastard! There’s more you didn’t tell us!

  Zeylor only smiled.

  — There always is.

  One by one, they vanished.

  Júlia.

  Kuto.

  Strangers.

  Until only Steve remained.

  He didn’t resist. Didn’t scream. He only watched his own hands fade, fingers turning to light, his body losing shape.

  — Remember — Zeylor’s voice echoed one last time. — You don’t have all the time in the world.

  White swallowed everything.

  Pain came first.

  Then the smell.

  Damp earth. Blood. Something rotten.

  Steve opened his eyes with difficulty, his body heavy, lying on leaves and roots. The sky above was green, filtered through dense canopies. The air was cold… and far too real.

  He tried to move.

  He could.

  His heart raced.

  Then he saw it.

  A few meters away, with its back to him, stood a massive creature with greenish skin and grotesque muscles, holding a partially mutilated human body.

  The sound of flesh tearing.

  Bones cracking.

  The metallic stench of blood.

  Steve froze.

  Fear wasn’t a scream. It was absolute silence inside his head. His hands shook. His breath locked. The entire world shrank to that thing… and one brutal certainty:

  The pain was real.

  Death was real.

  And he was completely defenseless.

  The game…

  …had just begun.