Joshua awoke to the warm sting of sunlight hitting his face, the sensation of rough sand beneath his fingers as he pushed himself up into a sitting position. His heart was pounding, though he wasn't sure why. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and blinked as the world around him came into focus.

And what he saw wasn't what he expected.

Stretching out endlessly before him was a vast beach, filled with people—hundreds of thousands, maybe millions. Men, women, children of all ages. Some were awake, looking around in confusion just as he was, while others were still sprawled across the sand, either unconscious or too shocked to move.

Joshua stayed quiet, his mind trying to process what he was seeing. A gnawing feeling of disbelief took root in his chest. This wasn't a dream, was it?

A man nearby scrambled to his feet, eyes wide with panic. "Where are we? What the hell is going on?" he shouted, his voice thick with fear.

His question hung in the air, but no one had an answer. Soon, more people were asking the same things, their voices overlapping in a cacophony of confusion and fear. Joshua heard bits and pieces of their frantic conversations.

"Is this some kind of sick joke?"

"Are we dead? Did something happen?"

"This can't be real!"

Joshua didn't join in. He stayed silent, his eyes sweeping over the scene. He could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on him, but he kept himself calm. He had always been good at controlling his emotions, at staying level-headed when things got tough. It wasn't a special skill—just something he'd always had to rely on. In a strange way, that calm was helping him now.

But where are we?

The island they were on seemed endless, stretching as far as the eye could see, with nothing but dense jungle behind them and the vast ocean on the other side. But the most jarring thing was the sheer number of people, spread out across the sand like some massive evacuation had taken place. How had all of them ended up here?

Before anyone could figure out what was happening, a distant whirring sound broke through the noise. The crowd's murmurs faded as everyone turned their heads to the sky, searching for the source. It didn't take long for them to spot it.

A helicopter.

It flew in fast, a black speck growing larger as it approached the beach, its rotors slicing through the air with a mechanical hum. As the helicopter neared, people began to back away, some in fear, others in hope, thinking it might bring answers. The craft descended and landed on the sand with a dull thud, sand swirling in the air as the rotors slowed to a stop.

From the helicopter, a figure stepped out—a soldier. His uniform was dark, body armored, face hidden behind a tactical helmet and visor. He moved with purpose, and his presence alone silenced the remaining murmurs. Joshua watched him closely, waiting.

The soldier walked a few steps toward the crowd, standing tall and scanning the faces before him. Then, in a voice amplified through a hidden speaker, he spoke, his tone cold and authoritative.

"Listen up."

The crowd stilled, every head turned toward him, waiting.

"You've all been brought here for a purpose. You are now participants in a series of challenges designed to test your strength, your endurance, and your will to survive. These challenges will determine the strongest among you—those worthy to become Ghosts."

A ripple of confusion ran through the crowd. People exchanged nervous glances, unsure of what the soldier was talking about. But no one dared speak up just yet.

The soldier continued, his voice carrying over the crowd like a judge delivering a sentence. "Ghosts are the most elite military unit in existence—trained to be stronger, faster, smarter than any normal human. You have all been chosen to compete for a place among them. Survive the challenges, and you'll join the ranks of the strongest. Fail, and you will die."

That last part sent a shiver down Joshua's spine, but he kept his face neutral. Around him, the crowd erupted into questions and protests.

"This is insane! We didn't sign up for this!" someone shouted.

"Why us?!" a woman yelled, her voice cracking.

"Is there a way out of this?" a man near the front called, desperation in his voice.

The soldier raised a hand, and somehow, the noise quieted again. "There is no opting out. You're here now, and the only way forward is to survive. Not all of you will make it, but those who do will earn a place as one of the strongest beings on the planet."

Joshua could feel the energy of the crowd shifting. Some were starting to accept the gravity of the situation, while others looked ready to collapse under the weight of it all. But what the soldier said next drove home just how serious this was.

"Your first challenge begins now," the soldier announced. "You must swim across the ocean."

A stunned silence fell over the crowd, as if they hadn't heard him correctly. Swim? Across the ocean? Joshua's gaze shifted toward the horizon, where the endless stretch of water met the sky. There was no land in sight.

"You have one month," the soldier continued, as if what he was saying was perfectly reasonable. "There are small islands along the way—checkpoints where you can rest and resupply. Your goal is to reach the final island. Anyone who doesn't reach it in time… will not survive."

For a moment, the weight of his words hung in the air, and then the crowd exploded again.

"That's impossible!" someone screamed.

"There's no way we can swim across an entire ocean!" another person shouted.

The soldier didn't respond to their protests. Instead, he motioned toward the helicopter. "If you want to live, stop wasting time and start swimming. The clock is ticking." With that, he turned and boarded the helicopter, the rotors spinning up once more.

Joshua watched as the helicopter lifted off, flying into the distance until it became nothing but a speck in the sky. The crowd was left in stunned silence for a moment, processing what they had just heard.

Then the panic set in.

People started rushing toward the water in a desperate frenzy, some shouting, others sobbing. Joshua watched them go, his mind racing. He knew there was no time to think. If he stayed here, he would be left behind. There was only one option: swim. Swim and survive.

Joshua stood and walked toward the shoreline, his feet sinking into the wet sand as he approached the water. The ocean stretched out endlessly before him, the waves lapping gently at the shore as if mocking the enormity of the task ahead. He waded into the water without hesitation, the cold shock of it waking his body up fully.

Around him, people were already floundering, struggling against the current. Some were swimming frantically, others barely moving as panic began to set in. Joshua, however, kept his movements steady, his strokes methodical. He couldn't afford to burn out early. This wasn't about speed—it was about endurance. He needed to pace himself, to stay calm.

Minutes passed, and already, he could hear people screaming. Some were flailing, their limbs exhausted, their breath shallow. A woman nearby gasped, her body sinking below the surface for a moment before she bobbed up, coughing and sputtering.

But Joshua kept going. He didn't let their panic infect him. He blocked out the screams, the splashing, the chaos, and focused on his breathing, on keeping his body moving. He had to. He couldn't stop.

He wasn't sure how long it would take, or how far the first island was, but he knew one thing for certain: if he didn't keep swimming, he'd be one of the many who didn't survive.

And he wasn't ready to die just yet.