Frey hated change. Frey hated surprises. Those occasional forked paths might be exciting for others, but to him, they were obstacles to be avoided as much as possible. So for Elise's birthday, he had the whole day planned out a week ahead of schedule. A girl like her deserved nothing but the best, unforgettable experience, and he was going to give her just that today. He woke up 6 AM sharp. Cooked the usual bacon and garlic bread breakfast within 15 minutes. Finished eating exactly 6:30, went back to his room to grab a towel and entered the shower without a second wasted. Today was a day he should live by the clock, because it was special. Because it was for her. By quarter to seven he was out of the shower, and fifteen minutes more he was wearing the best version of himself.
Dressed in a simple but cool and clean button-down shirt and slacks combo, he walked out his unit's door looking all dashing. He took the elevator at the hallway's end, and went three levels up, where Elise's unit was. She should be awake now, he thought, and knocked on her unit's door.
"Who's there?"
"Guess who."
The door opened, and peeking from the other side was Elise, who was half awake in her night gown and had bed hair, yet nonetheless looked lovely as ever.
"You're too early." she pouted.
"You can go back to sleep," Frey smiled, "but you have to let me in, so I can watch you."
"What kind of pervert enjoys watching girls sleep?" she said in disgust.
"I don't enjoy watching girls sleep. Just you."
"Grr." Elise growled, and the door slammed shut on his face. She never did like being caught, especially by him, in her embarrassing moments. Getting seen with a bed hair was one of those moments.
There was rustling on the other side and he knew, she won't be out for an hour.
He knocked again. "Hey, at least let me in before you lock yourself in the bathroom. It's cold in the hallway."
"Shut up." and he was damned to live the longest one hour of his life.
"I'll wait outside."
"Do what you want, pervert."
He went out into the street and watched people and cars pass by. Every five minutes he would glance at his digital wristwatch and stare up at the blue cold mid-autumn sky, then at the streetlights. Girls sure take forever to prepare, he thought, but if it was Elise, then waiting is never a problem for him. It's boring, though, to the degree that he found traffic jams entertaining. After what seemed like forever but was actually just 30 minutes, he fished his pocket for his phone and start up a virtual card game. He was not much of a gamer. The game came with the phone, and he'd been playing it at his leisure ever since.
Not even a minute into the game when he heard a shriek of help. It was distant, though it might as well be near his ear with its intensity. No one passing by the building seemed to notice. Why? Are they all deaf? Disgusted by how many people were feigning ignorance, he dashed into the alley between the apartment's building and a tailor shop.
The cold morning air burned his lungs, but he paid his wellbeing no mind. Jumping over garbage cans and used carton boxes he plunged deeper into the back alley with the wind on his back. The surrounding got darker and darker as he ran. A curve laid ahead, and beyond the turn shone faint blue light.
Inside his head, a voice was shouting at him to turn back, to not take the turn, but it was never really a habit of him to listen to himself. He looked around for an object he could use to defend himself, if worse came to worst, which was a thin PVC pipe about two feet long. Cautiously he approached the source of the blue light. Just one step from making the turn he stopped, leaned behind a wall to breathe and think. Pulled out the cellphone from his pocket. No signal. No calling the police. Frey took a deep breath. What he would find beyond this wall might include from petty criminals like pick-pockets and addicts, to the worst kind like kidnappers and muggers.
Think. Regardless of the kind, catching criminals require police intervention. He was no police. He considered running back to the open, call the police, and let them handle this. But what if the police came a moment too late and someone dies? What does he care? That's not his problem, he's not Superman. And besides, it's been a good two minutes since he heard the shriek. The victim might already be dead. Yes, the most logical step is to call the police. He took a step back, two steps, three. Turned his back and broke into a silent sprint.
He didn't make it far. The shrill scream of a female rang out from beyond the turn, and all thoughts of fleeing inside him was flooded with the moral urgency to save. He turned around and ran. This time, there was no thinking twice as he stepped out of safety behind the corner wall. He raised his pipe, prepared to thwack whatever criminal would come at him.
He was stupid. So stupid. He realized that a moment too late. He shouldn't have been presumptuous.
"What criminal...?" Frey laughed dryly. "This is something else entirely."
Four meters ahead of him was the one making the shrieks. It wasn't a victim. Nor the criminal. Hell, it wasn't even human. It was in the shape of an octopus, only that it was at least three meters tall, and had a hundred tentacles too many. Its head was shaped like a brain, with dark red nerves pulsing beneath its translucent, slimy skin.
Frey couldn't move. Something told him he would die if he ran, but who was he kidding? He would die either way if he just stood there. He should've listened to himself. Shouldn't have tried to be a hero. There was no victim. No victim except him. Whatever this thing was, he knew it wasn't something so kind as to spare him. Nor was it something that could be killed by a flimsy pipe.
In the middle of the thing's head opened an eye as big as a football, while a dozen smaller ones popped open around it.
"Hihihihi..." was the sound of the thing sensing his fear.
It latched on the wall like a leech, then slowly crept toward him. Frey dropped the pipe and sprinted away from the thing.
"Hihihihi..."
He hadn't even run a meter when sharp pain pierced through his back and straight through his lower spinal column. His legs went numb. He couldn't feel his parts from the waist down, as if his legs were severed from him. Protruding out his stomach was the tip of one of the thing's tentacle. It wriggled like a worm, as if mocking him and his futile attempt at running. He was lifted three feet off the ground, and was pulled slowly toward the monster waiting at the end of the line. His hands were painted red with his own blood, and with each passing second his consciousness strayed farther away from the reality of the situation.
"Damn..."
Bright blue light shone behind him. He cranked his neck to the side and understood. The blue light he saw earlier, was the light of the monster's eye.
---
"I'm not dead!"
"This is bull."
Some cried. Some shouted in denial. But most were like Frey--paralyzed.
He was dead.
He really did die.
Frey didn't know what that monster was or where it came from but one thing he was sure of: That thing killed him.
"I understand how each of you feel." The gowned woman--Victorina, proclaimed. The wailings turned to quiet sobs, and those who were yelling just a second ago shut their mouths. It was as if her voice carried anesthesia to their anguish. When everything had calmed down, she continued with her speech. "Unacceptable, isn't it? Painful, agonizing. To realize that you would never see your loved ones again, unbearable."
That's right, isn't it? He will never see Elise again. Will never feel her embrace, nor her love.
His grim expression hasn't changed, but on the corner of his eyes swelled ice-cold tears that trickled down his pale cheeks.
He was dead. As far as the world was concern, Frey Alcott had died in a dark back alley along Naval Street. Or maybe the monster ate his body whole, and left no trace of him. Then Frey Alcott might've simply disappeared without a trace.
Elise, she might be looking for him right now. Knocking on his unit, calling his phone, checking with the apartment's security. And she'd never find him.
"But that's why you're here. I will give you all a chance at second life. A chance to return things to the way they used to be. A chance to continue living."
Frey came alive with those words. A chance, to return things to the way they used to be. It meant seeing Elise again.
"However, that's all I can give you: a chance." Victorina smiled. "There are one-hundred-sixty of you, right now in this hall. Young people who have died with words left unsaid, promises unfulfilled, love unspent. Out of all of you, only one is worthy of life, and that would be none other than the strongest one among you."
Say what?
"From this moment forth, you are all part of a game. All one-hundred-sixty of you are the Players, but only one of you should lay claim on the prize, and that will only happen once all other Players have been eliminated."
Eliminated? Surely she didn't mean--
"A Player is eliminated once his or her borrowed body loses all life function. In short, dead."
"...Are you kidding me?" Frey's face contorted in disgust. The auditorium once again came alive with shouts of profound fear, anger and protest.
"You might find all this atrocious, but I must remind you all of one thing: you are all already dead." She added, if only to quell their anger for a bit. "Eliminating a Player is not the same as killing a person. Eliminating a Player just means he or she is disqualified from the game. His or her soul is to remain intact, and will be brought back to the cycle of life like any normal soul."
And that's supposed to encourage us to kill each other. Eliminating a Player, meant stripping the person of his second chance to live. Sure, it's a lot different than killing. It's way worse. It's killing someone knowing full well what happens to the poor soul next. Even if it's for Elise, can he do such a cruel thing?
"With all of that said, each of you will be given appropriate tools at the start of the game to help you get used to your playing field."
Victorina held out her palm. Above it hovered a small-scale model of a blue world much like Earth, yet had different features and was a lot bigger in scale. "Your playing field will be Eideleir, a home to mortals and deities alike. There are hundreds of races inhabiting this world, and many are fighting over territories all across the world. Be careful. Other Players are not the only ones who can eliminate you.
"I believe that is all I can tell you. The rest, you will have to figure out on your own. Good luck, Players. I'm excited to see who among you will be meeting me again at the summit."
With a snap of her fingers the space wriggled and distorted, growing more and more unstable by the second until Frey was seeing nothing but a whirlpool of colors. He closed his eyes, let all of this--his death, the game he must play, the consequences--sink in to his brain. Instead he saw the face of Elise, smiling at him, waving for him to come back.
All the Players deserve to live. He knows that. But Frey Alcott, what does he care? He'd made up his mind. He'll eliminate all 159 of them, if it meant seeing Elise's smile again.
---
When the space stabilized, he was at a different place entirely. A place filled with shrubs, floor coated with dead leaves, under the canopy of giant trees.
On the back of his right hand was a black mark. It looked like a sword inside two crescents facing each other. At his feet was a crude wooden chest that was 1 foot long and 1 foot wide, with the height of about 6 inches.
Setting the matter of the mark aside, he crouched down and inspected the chest. Inside it must be the "appropriate tools" mentioned by Victorina earlier. As soon as his palm touched the wood planks of the chest, something inside clicked, like a lock opening. When he took his hand off the surface, the chest sprung open. Two things were inside: a silver arm guard and a booklet with a bluish-green leather cover. He picked up the booklet and first inspected the cover. Nothing was written on it. He opened it on the first page. At first, the page was empty, until the paper caught fire and letters on the surface was burned into it by the flames.
Player 47
Frey Alcott