Blood. It was everywhere—on the ground, on his hands, in the air he breathed. Ragith's grip tightened around his sword, the leather of the hilt creaking under the pressure. His vision swam with red, not just from the carnage around him but from the unrelenting anger simmering in his chest.
His sister's face flashed in his mind—terrified, bloodied, screaming. He'd failed her. He couldn't save her. Not then, not now. And now, more people were dying.
"Stay in formation!" Erin barked from the front, his voice steady and commanding.
Ragith barely heard him. His mind was consumed with memories of his sister. She had begged for his help, just like these people were doing now, but he had been powerless to save her.
A scream jolted him back to the present. A man stumbled, clutching at a gash across his chest, before collapsing to the ground. Ragith gritted his teeth, rage and guilt threatening to overwhelm him.
"This is madness," he muttered, his voice low but trembling.
Victor's mocking laugh reached his ears. "Madness? This is survival, my friend. You either adapt or die."
Ragith spun on him, his eyes blazing. "You think this is a game? People are dying because of your manipulation!"
Victor smirked. "And what are you doing to stop it, oh noble Ragith? Standing there, sulking? How heroic."
That was it. The dam broke. Ragith lunged at Victor, grabbing him by the collar and slamming him against a tree.
"You listen to me," Ragith growled, his voice low and dangerous. "If you pull one more stunt, I'll make sure you don't live to regret it."
Victor's smirk didn't falter. "Touchy, aren't we? Must be hard carrying all that guilt."
Ragith's grip tightened, but Erin's voice cut through the tension.
"Enough!" Erin's tone was sharp, commanding authority. "We don't have time for this. Ragith, let him go."
For a moment, Ragith considered ignoring him. His rage demanded action, demanded justice. But the faint, distant echo of his sister's voice—pleading for peace—stayed his hand. He shoved Victor away, turning back to the group without a word.
A Painful Truth
The group trudged forward, their movements sluggish and desperate. Ragith stayed near the rear, his eyes scanning the surroundings. His heart ached every time someone stumbled or cried out in fear.
He hated this. The chaos, the death, the helplessness. It was all too familiar.
As they entered a small clearing, Rishitha suddenly froze, her voice cutting through the tense silence.
"Trap."
Ragith's heart raced as he saw a young boy—a child barely old enough to hold a weapon—step onto a glowing patch of earth.
"No!" Ragith shouted, but it was too late. The ground erupted with magic arrows, piercing the boy and the others nearby. Five more bodies fell.
The screams and cries of the survivors filled the air, but Ragith could only stare at the lifeless forms.
I couldn't save them either.
When the wolves attacked, Ragith welcomed the fight. He needed something to hit, something to kill, something to take his anger out on.
Erin shouted orders, but Ragith barely heard them. He charged at one of the wolves, his sword slicing through the air with a ferocity born of desperation.
The wolf lunged at him, its claws grazing his arm, but he didn't falter. With a roar, he drove his blade into its neck, twisting it for good measure. The wolf collapsed in a heap, blood pooling beneath it.
Breathing heavily, Ragith turned to see Erin and Rishitha taking down the leader together. For a moment, he felt a flicker of relief.
But it was short-lived.
When the system message appeared, Ragith's heart sank.
[Mission Complete. Remaining Participants: 18/30]
Twelve lives lost. Twelve failures.
He looked around at the survivors—trembling, bloodied, broken. Mo Tang was on his knees, trying to heal a girl whose chest barely rose and fell. Victor stood off to the side, his smirk replaced with something darker. Erin looked exhausted, his shoulders heavy with the weight of leadership.
Ragith's gaze fell to the boy who had triggered the trap. His sister's face overlapped with the boy's in his mind, and he clenched his fists.
"This can't go on," he muttered, his voice hoarse. "I won't let it."
Erin approached him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "We'll make it through this," Erin said, his voice firm but kind.
Ragith didn't respond. He couldn't. All he could do was silently vow that he wouldn't let anyone else die—not if he could help it.
I couldn't save her at that time, he thought, his jaw tightening. But I'll save them and mo tang this time. Even if it kills me.
Victor leaned against a tree, his arms crossed, watching the chaos unfold. Screams echoed through the forest, accompanied by the sharp, unmistakable sounds of people dying. His lips curled into a smile, equal parts amusement and disgust.
"Pathetic."
They scurried like frightened rats, desperate and clueless. Some swung weapons they could barely hold, while others begged for help. Victor took a moment to observe each face, noting who would crumble first, who would fight back, and who might be useful.
He had always thrived in situations like this. Back in his world, he'd been a natural at reading people, exploiting their fears, their weaknesses. This was no different—just bloodier.
Victor stepped forward, his voice cutting through the din like a knife. "If you want to survive, you need to stop crying and start acting. Do you think the wolves care about your sob stories?"
His words drew glares from a few, but more than a handful paused, doubt flickering in their eyes. Good. Doubt was his currency, and chaos was his stage.
"Listen to me," he continued, his tone smooth, almost comforting. "You're wasting time. The mission is clear—kill a monster, or die. It's simple. Some of you need to step up, or we're all going to be wolf food."
A man in the group, trembling and clutching a sword, barked back, "What gives you the right to order us around?"
Victor's smirk widened. "Oh, I'm not ordering you. I'm just pointing out the obvious. But sure, keep standing there arguing. Let's see how long that works out for you."
The man faltered, his defiance melting into uncertainty.
Victor glanced at Ragith, who was still fuming after their earlier clash. He could see the rage bubbling beneath the surface, ready to erupt. Perfect. Rage made people predictable, and predictable people were easy to manipulate.
As another scream pierced the air, Victor turned to the group. "Look at him," he said, gesturing toward Ragith. "Big, strong, angry. A real hero, right? Except he can't save everyone, can he?"
"Shut your mouth, Victor," Ragith snarled, stepping forward.
Victor raised his hands in mock surrender. "Relax, big guy. I'm just saying what everyone's thinking. You're trying to carry all this on your shoulders, but it's too much, isn't it? You're going to break."
Ragith lunged, grabbing Victor by the collar and slamming him into a tree. Victor didn't flinch. If anything, his smirk grew.
"Go ahead," Victor said, his voice low. "Hit me. Prove to everyone here that you're no better than the wolves."
For a moment, Victor thought Ragith might actually do it. But Erin's sharp voice cut through the tension, forcing the would-be hero to back off.
Victor dusted himself off, his smirk intact. Perfect. Let them turn on each other. It only makes my job easier.
The Subtle Knife
When the global system issued the mission, Victor's eyes lit up.
[Prove Your Value]
Kill one or more monsters.
Time Limit: 1 Hour
Failure: Death
He scanned the group, noting the panic spreading like wildfire. People screamed, ran in circles, begged for guidance.
Victor took a step closer to a cluster of trembling survivors. "Hey," he said, his tone soft, almost sympathetic. "I know you're scared, but this is your chance to prove yourself. You don't want to die, do you?"
The young man in front of him shook his head frantically.
"Good," Victor said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Then listen to me. You don't have to fight alone. Find someone weaker than you—someone who can't defend themselves—and use them as bait. It's cruel, sure, but it's better than dying, right?"
The man looked horrified, but Victor could see the gears turning. Desperation had a way of eroding morals.
As the group splintered, Victor watched with satisfaction. A few people took his advice, sacrificing others to draw out monsters. Some even managed to complete the mission, their faces pale and hollow from the cost.
He leaned back against a tree, arms crossed, as the timer ticked down. 18 minutes left.
"You're a monster," a voice said behind him.
Victor turned to see Mo Tang, his expression one of quiet fury.
Victor chuckled. "A monster? No. I'm a realist. Look around, Mo. This isn't some fairy tale. The weak die, the strong survive. That's the only rule that matters here."
"You're playing with lives," Mo Tang shot back.
"And what are you doing?" Victor countered, his smile sharp. "Praying for miracles? Hoping the wolves will suddenly grow a conscience? Get real. If you're not willing to get your hands dirty, you're already dead."
Mo Tang didn't respond, but his clenched fists spoke volumes.
As the final minutes ticked away, Victor moved closer to the main group. Ragith, Erin, and Rishitha had managed to kill their wolves, ensuring their survival. But many others were still struggling—or worse, giving up.
Victor leaned down next to a woman clutching a knife, her eyes wide with fear. "Time's almost up," he whispered. "If you don't act now, you're dead."
The woman stared at him, frozen.
Victor sighed, snatching the knife from her hands and tossing it to a man nearby. "Here. Use this. She's useless."
The man hesitated, then lunged at a nearby wolf, stabbing it repeatedly. Victor watched with mild amusement as the wolf went down, and the man collapsed in relief.
The Clock Strikes Zero
When the system chimed, announcing the survivors, Victor's smile returned.
[Mission Complete. Remaining Participants: 18/30]
He looked around at the remaining group, battered and bloodied, their eyes filled with equal parts relief and despair.
"Well," Victor said, clapping his hands together. "Looks like most of you made it. Congratulations."
Ragith shot him a murderous glare, but Victor ignored it. He wasn't here to make friends.
As far as he was concerned, every death, every broken spirit, was just another step toward his own survival.
"This world rewards the ruthless," he thought, his smirk returning. "And I plan to thrive."