The masked man stretched his hands toward the massive TV screens behind him, the eerie glow of the island reflecting off his golden mask. His mechanical voice filled the room once more.
"This is where you will be for the next six months."
A heavy silence fell over the crowd. Some people exchanged glances, their unease growing, but no one dared to speak yet. Kyle clenched his fists. Six months? That was insane. They all came here expecting some high-stakes virtual game, but six months inside? It didn't make sense.
The man seemed to sense their confusion. He lowered his hands and continued, his tone smooth yet artificial. "Do not be afraid. This is only a virtual reality. Your physical bodies will remain here in a safe state. It will be your subconscious that enters the island."
A murmur ran through the crowd. Virtual reality? That made a little more sense, but still—six months?
The man raised a single gloved finger. "The passage of time is different. What feels like a month inside the game is only a single day in reality. That means when the game is over, only six days will have passed here."
Kyle swallowed, his mind racing. That meant they wouldn't actually be gone for half a year—just less than a week. It was still crazy, but at least it wasn't as impossible as it first sounded.
Suddenly, a voice broke through the growing whispers.
"Then how do we make money?"
Everyone turned toward the speaker—a young man with sharp eyes and a wary expression. He had raised his hand like a student in a classroom, but his voice carried a tension that couldn't be ignored.
The masked man chuckled, a low mechanical distortion that sent a shiver through the room. He turned slightly, and as if responding to his unspoken command, the TV screens behind him flickered. The island vanished, replaced by an image of an ancient, glowing artifact. It looked like a small stone tablet, covered in strange engravings, pulsing with golden light.
"A good question," the man said. "Yes, as you may have already guessed—these artifacts are scattered across the island. And the more you absorb, the longer you live."
The reaction was instant. Gasps, whispers, shifting feet. Even Kyle felt his heart skip a beat.
He narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean—lifespan increases?"
The man smirked beneath his mask. "Each of you has 24 hours to live in the game. If you do nothing, your time will run out, and your subconscious will be disconnected from the system, meaning you lose."
Kyle felt a chill crawl up his spine.
The man continued. "However, each artifact you absorb extends your time by 10 hours." He paused, then added, "And each one is worth $1000."
The silence that followed was deafening.
Then, a single, collective realization dawned over the crowd. A thousand dollars per artifact. If they played smart, if they could stay alive and keep collecting, they could make a fortune in just six days.
Kyle could almost see the shift in their expressions. At first, fear. Then, excitement. A few people even exchanged looks, their eyes gleaming with the promise of wealth.
The masked man took a step forward, observing them like a puppeteer watching his marionettes. Then, he laughed, a distorted sound that sent chills through the room.
"Ah, but of course," he said, "the challenge does not lie in the artifacts themselves."
He let his words hang in the air for a moment before finishing with a cruel twist.
"Players can absorb every dollar... and every remaining lifespan... that another player has accumulated—by killing them."
The reaction was immediate. People took quick steps away from one another, their survival instincts kicking in. What had once seemed like an easy way to make money had turned into something far more sinister.
Kyle took a deep breath, scanning the room. He could already see it. The tension, the silent calculation happening behind every pair of eyes.
This wasn't just a game of survival against the elements.
The real danger wasn't the island.
It was the people around him.
And judging by the looks of some of them, Kyle had to admit—they all looked pretty damn dark.
****
Kyle felt a sudden jolt as something heavy slammed onto his desk. His body lurched forward, his eyes barely opening as the sharp sound pulled him out of his dazed state.
"Are you even listening to me?!"
A voice boomed above him, rough and filled with irritation. The words were blurred in his groggy mind, barely registering, but what he did notice was the spit flying from the man's mouth, landing on his desk—and, unfortunately, on him.
Kyle blinked hard, trying to wake up properly, but his exhaustion made it difficult. The figure standing over him was red-faced, nostrils flaring, fists clenched. Of course. His boss.
He was a secretary at a marketing firm—a title that sounded impressive, but in reality, it was anything but. If people heard where he worked, they might assume he made a good living. But the truth? He barely earned enough to take care of himself. And now that his parents were gone—killed in a car crash—he had to look after his younger sister as well.
She had been sick for months now. Hospital bills piled up faster than he could count. And no matter how hard he worked, how much overtime he put in, it was never enough.
Desperation had driven him to search for ways to make money online, using his work computer when no one was looking. But every opportunity came with a cost—one he couldn't afford to pay.
"If you sleep at work again," his boss snarled, straightening his tie, "I swear it'll be the last thing you ever do in this firm."
Kyle barely heard the rest. His boss's words faded as he stormed off, leaving behind a lingering sense of dread. He sighed heavily, rubbing his face before removing his glasses and placing them on the desk.
His tired eyes drifted to the computer screen.
Was this his life now? Utter misery?
His hands curled into fists on his lap. Something had to change. Because at this rate…
He wasn't sure how much longer he could keep going.
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