CHAPTER 2: START OF THE TUTORIAL STAGE
"Ugh…"
Anon groaned as his senses slowly returned, a dull throbbing in his head making him wince. It felt as though some invisible force had dragged him into a vortex, twisting his mind like a ragged piece of cloth. The world around him was a dizzying blur, and for a moment, he couldn't even tell which way was up.
When the dizziness finally subsided, he forced his eyes open, squinting against the fading sunlight. The first thing he noticed was the stark, jarring silence. No honking cars. No chattering pedestrians. Not even the distant barking of a dog.
Confused, he looked around. His stomach dropped as he took in his surroundings. He was sitting on the cold ground, his back pressed against the same wall he had been leaning on earlier. But everything else had changed.
The people—the bustling life that had been there just a moment ago—were gone. No faces walking by. No one laughing or talking in the streets. The familiar hum of city life was absent, replaced by a heavy, suffocating stillness.
"Huh? Where is everyone?" His voice, usually calm and controlled, now sounded foreign to him, echoing in the empty street. Panic gnawed at the edges of his thoughts as he stood up, his legs unsteady beneath him.
He glanced down the street, his heart pounding harder with each passing second. He quickly darted into the neighborhood, searching frantically for any sign of life. His footsteps echoed off the silent buildings, making the emptiness feel even more oppressive.
"HELLO! IS ANYONE THERE?!" His voice cracked slightly, the tension in his chest growing with each failed shout. He wasn't one to yell, but right now, he couldn't care less about how it sounded. His throat burned with the effort, his pulse hammering in his ears.
The panic crept up his spine, his breathing shallow as the adrenaline coursed through him. He pressed his hands to his mouth, cupping them to shout louder, "ANYONE?! HELLO!!!" His words felt absurd, as though they might never reach another soul. But still, he called, the loneliness tightening around him like a vice.
The feeling of wrongness was suffocating, and his mind struggled to make sense of what had happened. Had he imagined it all? Was this some kind of weird dream? No. He could feel the sweat on his skin, the dryness in his throat—this was real. Whatever was going on, it wasn't a trick of the mind.
Twenty minutes later, Anon was back in his original spot, slumped against the same wall, staring out into the empty, distorted street. His search for anyone, for any sign of life, had yielded nothing. The eerie stillness pressed down on him like a suffocating weight. He tried to rationalize it—maybe it was some kind of prank? Maybe he had just stumbled into some weird, isolated part of town?
But the longer he sat there, the more his disbelief began to crack. He had never felt this helpless before.
With a deep, resigned sigh, he glanced up, his gaze shifting to the sky. His breath caught in his throat.
"...Why is the sky so freakishly yellow?"
The realization hit him like a punch to the gut. The entire sky above him was washed in an unnatural, unsettling yellow hue, like a constant sickly glow that stretched far beyond the horizon. The sunlight felt wrong. The air around him felt wrong. It was as though the very world he had known had been replaced with something alien.
His chest tightened, panic flickering in the back of his mind.
"Just where the hell am I…? What the hell is happening?"
The words left his mouth almost as a reflex, but they did nothing to quell the rising sense of dread.
Vrrrrtttt…
He jolted at the unexpected vibration from his pocket. In a flash, he whipped his phone out, almost expecting it to be something—anything—that could explain what was going on.
The screen lit up with a new message.
[SO, ARE YOU FINALLY CALM? IT WAS PRETTY FUNNY SEEING YOU RUN AROUND LIKE THAT, CONSIDERING HOW DEADPAN YOU ARE IN YOUR EVERYDAY LIFE. PUHAHAHA! LOL!]
The words were jarring, out of place. As if mocking him.
Anger flared inside him. His pulse raced as he stared at the screen, the disembodied voice on the other end of the message almost taunting him.
"What the hell do you want from me?! Who the hell are you?!"
His voice was raw, raw with frustration and confusion, his fists clenched around the phone. His usual composure—his trademark indifference—was nowhere to be found now. This wasn't just a random glitch. This wasn't some bizarre joke. The implications were becoming harder to ignore.
Not long after, another message popped up on his phone screen.
[ME? OH YEAH, SORRY FOR THE LATE INTRODUCTION. I'M THE GAME ADMIN OF THIS AWESOME GAME, OR WHAT YOU WOULD OTHERWISE CALL AS G-O-D. WELCOME, NEW PLAYER, TO THE TUTORIAL STAGE! YOU MUST FIRST CLEAR THIS TUTORIAL BEFORE YOU CAN OFFICIALLY BECOME A PLAYER IN MY GAME. DO YOU UNDERSTAND? YES/NO]
Anon stared at the message, his grip tightening around the phone as his irritation mounted.
"Screw you!" he snapped, shooting to his feet. The words felt inadequate, but it was all he had left. He didn't even consider responding with a 'Yes' or 'No.' The whole situation was ludicrous.
[OUCH! THAT STUNG! UNDERSTANDABLY SO! ALAS, I WILL HAVE TO CUT OUR CONVERSATION SHORT, AS TIME IS FAST APPROACHING FOR THE TUTORIAL STAGE TO BEGIN. WE'LL GET TO TALK MORE ONCE YOU SURVIVE THIS FANTASTIC CHALLENGE I HAVE DEVISED. ANYWAY, CIAO~!]
TING!
Suddenly, the phone buzzed again, displaying an unsettling window that made his stomach drop. It was like something straight out of a game, but far too real.
{Tutorial Quest}
Clear Condition: Kill another new player.
Clear Reward/s: +10 CP, +1 Level-up
Failure Penalty: GAME OVER
[Description: Successfully slay a new player like yourself to prove that you are worthy to be a part of this game, or die trying.]
Progress: 0/1
Time Remaining: 2:59:59
Anon's eyes locked onto the screen, the words sinking into his mind like ice water. He blinked. Once. Twice. His heart hammered in his chest. The sense of dread he'd been fighting off since he'd first woken up—since he realized he was trapped in some kind of game—was now swelling up, threatening to overtake him.
Kill another new player. The words were still there, burning themselves into his consciousness.
He felt a sick knot form in his stomach. The reality of what was happening—what he had agreed to, even inadvertently—began to hit him all at once. A game? Was this some kind of twisted joke? Game over if he failed? It wasn't a game at all.
His hands began to shake. He could barely hold onto the phone. He wasn't in some fantastical fantasy world; this was real. The rules were real. And it seemed like the only way out was to play along.
"Kill another new player… What the hell is this crap supposed to mean?"
He stood frozen for a moment, his mind racing as he tried to process everything that had happened so far. He replayed the events in his head, desperately searching for some clue, some way to make sense of it all.
First, he left school after that interaction with Angelina, who'd invited him to hang out with her friends. Then, while waiting for the bus, he'd been scrolling through news stories about some strange phenomenon spreading across the world—a mystery that had captured global attention for the past two years. And after getting off the bus and heading home, his phone had suddenly frozen, pulling him into this twisted situation.
"Wait… Could this… could this be connected to the phenomenon from two years ago? Is that what this is?"
The thought made his stomach churn. He could feel his heart tightening with the uncomfortable certainty that he was right. Everything—everything that had led up to this moment—felt linked.
This wasn't just some sick joke. This "game" was deadly serious. The task he was being forced into—killing another player—felt like a nightmare. He had never even considered that he'd be forced to take someone else's life. He couldn't even comprehend the idea.
"Dammit!"
A guttural scream of frustration erupted from his throat. He squeezed the phone in his hand, as if he could crush away the absurdity of the situation with sheer force. For a moment, he wanted to throw it away, to discard this cursed device and just walk away from it all.
But instead, he resisted the urge. His eyes slammed shut, and he took a long, steadying breath. He knew that losing control would get him nowhere. The anger—no matter how justified—wouldn't help him now. He needed to keep his wits about him. Think.
However, it still didn't answer the question of how he was supposed to complete his quest.
"Kill another person… Are you for real?"
How was he supposed to kill another human being? The game made it sound so casual, like it was the most natural thing in the world. But could he even bring himself to do it? This was supposed to be the Tutorial Stage, wasn't it? So why the hell was the quest so—so monstrous? Shouldn't it be easier on new players, mentally, emotionally, physically? Wasn't the game supposed to help ease them in, not push them to murder someone right off the bat?
"Christ... What did I get myself into?"
Anon slammed a hand against the back of his head, his fingers curling into his hair in frustration. "How am I going to kill anybody when I can't even find a single other person here?"
He could feel the panic building, his thoughts circling back on themselves in a tight, spiraling knot. The world around him felt more and more surreal, like he'd been dropped into some twisted nightmare. The weight of it all—the sudden, impossible expectation of violence—pressed down on his chest, suffocating him.
But then, a new thought stabbed through his panic. If he did find someone... what if they had the same quest? What if they were hunting him right now, ready to take him down before he even knew what hit him? He'd be screwed either way.
"What the hell do I do now…"
He closed his eyes, his hand still tangled in his hair. It was all too much to process at once. "First things first, I need a weapon." He muttered under his breath. He couldn't afford to panic—not yet. Survival came first. Then, he could figure out the rest.
With a clear, cold determination, Anon's eyes snapped open. The haze of confusion from earlier evaporated, replaced by a sharp focus. He knew exactly what he needed to do next. Get a weapon. And fast.
Without wasting another second, he moved toward the nearest house with an unlocked door. His steps were quick, purposeful—his mind was already on the task at hand. The weight of the situation was pressing on him, but there was no time to second-guess. If he was going to survive this twisted game, he had to act.
"Find the kitchen…"
It was instinct. He didn't have time to deliberate over the morality of his actions. Right now, all that mattered was survival. A knife. Sharp. Lethal. Efficient. It was the most straightforward way to end a life, and right now, it was the only thing that would help him make it through this.
His fingers brushed across the cold, metallic drawer handles before pulling open a cabinet. His eyes scanned the array of knives lined up within.
"Knife... Got it."
He picked one up, feeling its weight, its promise of lethal efficiency. The blade was slender, long, and razor-sharp. It was the perfect choice. A kitchen knife could do the job, sure, but it would be too bulky to carry around. This knife, however, could be tucked away discreetly, hidden behind him as he moved.
He gripped it firmly, testing its weight in his hand, feeling the cold metal bite into his skin. He swung it through the air a couple of times, testing its balance and the way it felt in his palm. The motion was fluid, almost natural. A sense of dark satisfaction settled within him as he felt the blade slice through the air.
"This is good."
The knife now secured against his waistband, Anon stood there for a moment, looking at himself in the reflection of a nearby window. He didn't recognize the person staring back. This wasn't the same person who had left school just hours ago. He wasn't that person anymore, or so he thought. And as he adjusted the knife's position, he couldn't help but feel a sick sense of finality.
His next steps were clear, but they also felt impossible.
"Okay, let's go find a second weapon."
The decision was practical, but Anon's voice, though quiet, trembled with the weight of the reality settling in around him. A single knife wouldn't be enough. The potential for the blade to bend, break, or dull in the heat of the moment was too high. He needed something more substantial—something with more reach, something that could make him feel more secure.
He moved methodically through the house, room by room, his mind more focused on the task at hand than the eerie quiet of the place. The once-familiar world outside seemed so distant now.
Opening a door to an upstairs room, Anon immediately spotted something that caught his eye: a baseball bat lying next to a corner bed, almost as if it were waiting for him.
'Jackpot.' A fleeting sense of relief washed over him. For a moment, he allowed himself a quiet mental cheer before walking over and picking it up.
The bat was heavier than he expected, its solid weight grounding him in the grim reality of what he was preparing to face. He swung it experimentally, feeling the bulk of it in his hands. The wood felt sturdy, unyielding—a blunt instrument, much less precise than the knife but undeniably powerful.
A small sigh escaped his lips as he tested the motion again, this time imagining what it would be like to use it against someone. It wasn't the ideal weapon for killing, not like the knife. It wasn't designed for that kind of precision. No, this would bruise, maybe break bones—but it wouldn't make him confront the raw act of taking a life. Not directly.
"Good enough," he muttered, his grip tightening around the handle.
The idea of killing someone was still beyond him, mentally and emotionally. He didn't want to be that person. Not yet. His mind recoiled at the thought of stabbing someone with the knife, of feeling their blood on his hands. It wasn't just fear—it was a deep, instinctual horror that ran through him. Could he really do that? The trembling hands, the rapid heartbeat—it would all be too much.
But this bat… this was different. It felt safer, almost. He imagined himself striking with it, the thud of it landing on someone's skull, imagining that it would only knock them out, that they would crumple without being killed. At least, that's what he told himself.
He paused for a moment, standing still in the room with the bat in hand, his breathing heavy.
"Am I really doing this?"
The weight of the weapon in his hands felt more like a burden with each passing second, the question growing louder in his mind. Was he really preparing to hurt someone? To kill someone? He wasn't ready. Not mentally, not emotionally. The fear crept up again, that gnawing, sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach.
But the reality was clear—he had no choice.
"I'll do whatever I have to… to survive."
The thought was grim, but it was all he had. And with that, he took a final swing, testing his resolve.
"Hhhuuuuu…" Anon closed his eyes, exhaling slowly, trying to steady his racing heartbeat. It felt like his chest was about to burst under the pressure, his breath coming in uneven gasps.
He walked over to the bed in the corner, sitting down heavily. The mattress creaked beneath him, but it was the least of his concerns. The weight of the knife on his waist, the bat gripped tightly in his hands—none of it made him feel safer.
He placed a hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat thundering like a drum, its intensity overwhelming him. His body felt heavy with dread, as though the air around him had thickened and was pressing in from all sides.
Looking out the window, he saw the eerily still landscape outside. The sky, still an unnatural shade of yellow, offered no comfort. His mind buzzed with frantic thoughts, but only one thing stood out clearly.
"I'm legit scared…"
The words escaped him in a whisper, more to himself than anyone else. He was scared. Fear gripped his chest, and for the first time since the start of this nightmare, he allowed himself to truly feel it.
Vrrrrtttt…
His phone suddenly vibrated in his pocket, cutting through the silence. The buzz seemed to shake him out of his thoughts, and he fumbled to pull it out. His hands were shaking as he read the new message that popped up.
[WARNING!!! THE ARENA ZONE MAP IS SHRINKING IN FIVE MINUTES. PLAYERS OUTSIDE OF THE SAFE ZONE ARE STRICTLY ADVISED TO GET WITHIN THE BOUNDS OF THE CIRCLE FAST. OTHERWISE, A FIERY DEATH CONSUMES YOU.]
[TIME REMAINING - 4:59]
[ALERT!!! YOU ARE CURRENTLY OUTSIDE OF THE SAFE ZONE! QUICKLY GET WITHIN THE CIRCLE!]
Anon's stomach dropped as he read the messages. Shrinking arena? His mind struggled to process what was happening. He felt the blood drain from his face as he glanced at the timer ticking down. Only five minutes. He was out of the safe zone. The words echoed in his mind, each one more terrifying than the last. A fiery death? Was this real?
Panic set in, his breath coming in short gasps. The feeling of being hunted, of being a mere game piece in a life-or-death scenario, overwhelmed him. His pulse quickened, and a cold sweat broke out across his forehead.
"No, no, no…" His thoughts scrambled as he stood up, his legs unsteady. He looked frantically out the window again, but all he saw was the empty street.
Where the hell was the safe zone? How could he possibly make it in time?
The sound of the phone buzzing in his hand brought him back to the moment. The time was ticking down, seconds slipping away faster than he could process. His mind raced. The fear was suffocating. How could he survive this?