Welcome to the Games

Twenty Minutes to Oblivion

For a long moment, no one moved.

Not a step, not a shift, not even a breath too loud.

After watching dozens, maybe hundreds, explode in front of us, the reality settled in like a vise around the throat: the Game wasn't optional.

It wasn't a joke, a prank, or some sick social experiment. It was a rule system with absolute enforcement.

People who had screamed were now silent.

People who had run were gone, reduced to stains and scattered pieces across the ground.

The clearing looked like a slaughterhouse. Blood everywhere. Body parts everywhere. Some people had chunks of flesh on their clothes, arms, hair. A girl beside me was shaking so badly her teeth clicked, her shirt also stained with someone else's blood.

I looked down at my shirt and it wasn't clean either. Of course it wasn't.

Some people sobbed quietly. Others stared ahead, empty. Panic was still there, but fear kept everyone perfectly still.

Then the voice returned, too controlled to be anything human.

"Participant count update."

The forest went dead quiet. Everyone listened and held their breath.

"Initial global uptake from Earth: 812,491,003 participants."

My stomach tightened. Eight hundred million. Over eight hundred million people… tapped the same ad?

It hit me instantly, people tap things on their phones every second. Ads, pop-ups, fake 'You won!' banners. A billion taps happen on Earth every few minutes. Whoever, or whatever designed this, definitely knew that.

The voice continued.

"Fatalities from orientation disobedience: 132,009,441."

Screams rippled again but they were trapped screams, small, terrified ones, and no one dared to move an inch.

Eight hundred million people. One hundred and thirty-two million already dead. In what, ten minutes? Fifteen?

"Remaining active participants: 680,481,562."

Six hundred and eighty million people still left.

My mind did the math automatically, the way it always did: The percentage… the scale… the length of this "Game"…

If that much people still remained, then there was no fast finish line. This was going to be long. Long and catastrophic.

A man somewhere behind me whispered, barely audible:

"…this is insane…"

No one disagreed.

And I stood there, frozen like the rest, feeling the weight of six hundred and eighty million strangers around me, and the crushing realization that we were nowhere near the real beginning yet.

The voice returned, as a screen flickered on into existence above us.

"FIRST GAME: REACH THE FINISH LINE. TIME LIMIT: TWENTY MINUTES."

A glowing marker appeared far ahead, a thin beam of light rising into the sky like an invitation none of us wanted.

"You may… impede other players. The system will not interfere."

The words settled over us with a clarity that needed no explanation.

From the screen, we could see that a river separated us from the glowing finish line. It wasn't wide, but the water churned in a slow, dark roll that made its depth obvious. Those who couldn't swim were already doomed.

Someone—a woman—panicked and bolted forward. Her foot had barely hit the dirt before her body burst apart in a sharp, wet blast. A few people screamed again and froze instantly.

"PREMATURE MOVEMENT DETECTED. VIOLATION."

The voice paused, then...

"COUNTDOWN INITIATING."

A timer appeared beneath the screen:

00:10

00:09

00:08…

The moment it hit zero, everyone surged forward in a desperate wave.

We broke out of the forest and sprinted across the clearing toward the river. As we got closer, the air filled with cries, and once we reached the bank the splashes started. People jumped in without thinking, some hesistated before also jumping in, while others stood there shaking uncontrollably.

The girl from before, the one who'd been shaking so hard her teeth clicked, grabbed my arm as she whispered, "Please… please, I can't swim. Don't leave me."

I looked at the river, then at the timer in the sky counting down: 12:42.

If I pulled her with me, I'd be slower. But the river wasn't long, just deep. With steady strokes, I could drag her across and still make it.

People were panicking everywhere. One man sank to the ground, covering his face as he whispered to himself. He wasn't even trying. He knew he wouldn't make it.

The girl's fingers tightened around my wrist even more.

"Please… I don't want to die like this."

I nodded and took her hand.

"Hold on to my shoulder. Don't let go."

We slipped into the cold water as others splashed and thrashed around us. Some were already sinking. Farther to my left, someone dragged another person by the collar. Seeing me help the girl seemed to push a few others into doing the same.

My muscles burned as I pulled her along, keeping her above the surface while kicking the water steadily. She gasped, sobbed, and clung to me with trembling fingers, but she didn't let go.

We reached the other side with 7 minutes to spare. My legs shook as we stumbled onto the muddy bank, and she broke into relieved, exhausted cries.

More people pulled themselves out of the water, some dragging others with them, others crawling out alone with wild, desperate eyes. Not everyone made it to this side. Not everyone even tried.

We pushed forward again—just a short run this time—and by the time we reached the glowing finish line with her, plenty of people were already there. The ones who hadn't helped anyone were catching their breath, bent over or staring at the ground like they were trying to pretend they hadn't heard the screams.

The timer above us kept counting down, its final seconds blinking like a warning we could only watch.

00:07

00:06

00:05...

Those of us past the finish line turned as the screams started again. People still trapped on the other side of the river, those who'd hesitated too long, those who couldn't swim, those who were still running toward us, went up in sudden, violent bursts. Some exploded mid-stride. Others barely made it out of the water before they were torn apart.

No sound came after the explosions. Just the aftermath—the drifting mist of red and the ripples on the river settling like nothing had happened at all.

I exhaled shakily and looked down.

The girl's hand was still locked around mine tightly. She was staring straight ahead, shoulders trembling, tears slipping down her cheeks, but she didn't let go.

None of us moved.

And for a few long seconds, it felt like the whole world was waiting to see who would die next.