#2: The Fifty Heads Game
"Hey, what the hell is your manager trying to pull here?" yelled one of the customers, his voice breaking the uneasy silence in the crowded bank. "Can't I withdraw my money in peace?"
The manager stepped out from his office, attempting to calm the growing crowd, but his efforts were met with glares and murmurs of anger. Tension thickened like fog, and it was clear things could get ugly, fast. Even the security guards who had previously been restraining Axel now turned to deal with the escalating chaos.
A few minutes passed, and the noise grew louder as a young college student stepped forward, eyes fixed on a strange orb in the center of the room. "Hey, is this some kind of system interface like those in webtoons? Where are my stats? My points?"
Silence. The orb emitted no response, just a cold, eerie light.
Axel's gaze drifted back to his own screen, which displayed unsettling text:
**First Task: Qualifying Round**
**Game #1: Fifty Heads Game**
**Level: E**
**Time Limit: 30 – 20 min**
An uneasy realization hit Axel. Twenty minutes had already passed, and still, no one had done anything. Who would, really? No one sane would commit murder just because a game ordered them to. Yet he knew that others must be thinking the same thing.
"Maybe if no one acts, we'll all just get some minor penalty," Axel muttered to himself. "There's probably a lot who don't even believe this is real."
As the timer ticked closer to zero, the bank grew quieter, every eye glued to their screens, awaiting whatever consequence was to follow. The atmosphere was thick with anticipation and fear.
"Beep."
"The timer has expired. Failure to participate in the game has incurred a penalty. Penalty distribution will now begin."
Axel's heart sank, a dreadful sense of foreboding creeping over him. "I have a bad feeling about this..."
"Beep."
"The penalty: Scatterbrain Omelette has been given. Fifty participants will receive the penalty at random. Prepare yourselves."
Axel gulped down trying to swallow the unease that still hung to his thriat. Screams erupted nearby as the heads of some customers began to swell grotesquely. Panic rippled through the crowd. One man's head ballooned to unnatural proportions, his face contorted in horror before—
POP-!
An unearthly shriek filled the air as his head exploded, splattering blood and tissue across the bank. Axel flinched, instinctively backing into the counter as pandemonium broke out. Around him, heads detonated one after another, painting the walls with crimson. The gore splattered across his face and hands, half his vision now tainted by someone else's blood.
Frozen in shock, Axel stood rooted, witnessing the carnage. The air was thick with the metallic tang of blood, mingling with the terrified cries of those who hadn't yet been touched by the random slaughter. He wanted to run, to scream, anything to escape the nightmare unfolding before him— but part of him trembled with the knowledge that he might be next.
The orb's voice cut through the chaos once more.
"Penalty has been administered. The game will now restart."
The orb's cold, mechanical voice was devoid of sympathy or explanation, merely listing instructions like a cosmic bureaucrat of death.
"Current number of heads: 97. Reduce the number to fifty before the timer expires. Survival of the fittest. Game restarting."
**Time Limit: 30/2 min (15 min)**
The crowd's fear reached a fever pitch as the timer's countdown resumed, halved. People turned on each other, shoving, clawing, and scrambling to survive by any means necessary. There was no doubt now: this was no prank, no illusion. The horrific reality forced each person to confront the terrifying truth— survival now required bloodshed.
Axel stood silently by the counter, his imposing build warding off anyone who dared get too close. He watched as panic turned people into animals, their desperate instincts to survive stripping away any trace of civility. He allowed himself a small, bitter chuckle. "People will revert to their primal selves at the slightest push," he murmured.
Nearby, the cashier he had argued with earlier clung to the counter, terror in her wide eyes. She stared at him, pleading. "What the hell is going on? Why isn't anyone doing anything to stop this?"
Axel met her gaze, his eyes hard. "Oh, you're still alive. That's... unfortunate."
Her face twisted in anger and desperation. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Unfazed, he shrugged. "It's simple, really. When things get bad, people revert. Some of us survive. Some of us don't. It's the natural order."
Before she could retort, another cashier lunged at her, gripping a pen like a weapon and driving it into her shoulder. "I'm sorry, Gemma," the attacker whispered, trembling, "but I won't die here."
Axel watched, unmoved as the two women struggled, Gemma's cries for help lost in the cacophony around them.
"Please, help me," Gemma gasped, clawing toward him, her eyes frantic.
"No, I rather not butt into the matters of others", he said with steely eyes.
"Please, I don't want to die!" Gemma cried.
Axel tucked his hands into his pockets. "No one wants to die. It's how things are."
"Please!" she shrieked, but he ignored her, his gaze cold.
Then he felt a small hand tugging on his jacket. Looking down, he saw a little girl in a jumper, her brown hair held back by a butterfly pin, her wide eyes filled with fear.
"Please, sir," she whimpered, tears streaming down her cheeks. "My mommy... she's gone."
Before he could respond, a man stepped forward. In his twenties with a neatly pressed suit and polished shoes, he moved with unsettling calmness through the chaos. "Excuse me, sir," he said to Axel, his tone almost eerily polite. "I seem to have lost my daughter. Thank you for finding her—"
"He's not my father!" The girl cried, clutching Axel's coat even tighter, her body trembling.
The man's calm expression darkened like the paints of red on half his face. "Martha, sweetheart, it's me, Daddy—"
Axel's jaw clenched. "She doesn't seem too keen on going with you. Care to explain?"
The man's friendly facade slipped, his smile vanishing. "Hand her over before I get angry."
Axel felt the girl tremble beside him. Her small fingers clutched his jacket desperately. "Please," she whispered, her voice breaking, "don't let him take me..."
Something in Axel snapped, an unfamiliar protectiveness welling up within him. His steely gaze locked onto the man in the suit. "There are cowards like you who prey on children in chaos like this. The world really is filled with monsters."
The man sneered. "So, you're playing the hero now?"
Axel patted the girl's head, trying to calm her. "I have no reason to interfere, but I can't stand by while a kid dies."
The man in the suit scowled and swiftly approached Axel. When he was close enough he lunged, throwing a punch. Axel barely flinched, catching the blow square on his nose. The pain stung, but he grinned in spite of himself. "You left yourself wide open, numbskull."
In a swift movement, Axel grabbed a pen from the counter and drove it into the man's neck. His attacker staggered, clutching his throat, blood spilling through his fingers.
Axel wasted no time. He pulled his tie off and wrapped it around the man's neck, pulling tight. His arms flexed, muscles straining as he choked the man into unconsciousness. With a final grunt, the suited man fell limp, collapsing onto the blood-soaked floor.
Breathing heavily, Axel knelt down to meet the girl's frightened gaze. "What's your name?" he asked softly.
"Emily," she whispered, throwing her arms around his neck and burying her face in his shoulder. He hugged her back, her small frame shaking in his embrace.
"You're okay now," he murmured, trying to comfort her.
"Beep!"
"The Game of Fifty Heads has concluded. Head count reduced to forty-seven. Rewards will now be allocated."
The orb's voice rang out in the silence that followed the chaos.
"Each participant receives 100 points as a starting bonus. An additional 20 points per kill for those with a registered kill count. Points may be used at stores active at the end of the games."
Axel grimaced, exhaustion settling over him. "Great," he muttered, wiping the blood from his face. "It's not over yet."