Muffled noise. The clatter of plates echoed through the house as food overflowed the dining table. The boys focused on finishing the banquet they had started. The aroma of the al hung thickly in the air, filling every corner of the residence.
They were cleaned up, dressed in proper clothes they had found in the house, and perfud—almost unrecognizable as survivors of a murderous world.
"This is delicious!" Jamie exclaid, shoveling spaghetti into his mouth as though each bite might be his last.
"Mind your manners at the table!" Alexander scolded, though a trace of amusent betrayed him.
"We’re already dead. What’s left to care about?" Jamie replied bluntly, his words hanging in the air.
"Besides, we don’t know what the next ga will be. This might be the last al we get," Bray muttered, voice muffled as he pushed his plate aside.
"Don’t worry, we’re safe!" Alexander said, trying to infuse confidence into his tone.
"Safe?" Bray scoffed, a bitter edge in his voice. "Everyone hates us. The odds aren’t on our side!"
"Hear my plan first!" Alexander snapped. "Don’t you realize sothing strange?"
"They say nine gas are left, but 263 people died in the first one!"
"So?" Bray interjected, shrugging.
"Those numbers... they’re too low," Alexander said, his brow furrowed.
"He’s right. It wouldn’t make sense to eliminate that many people at once if nine gas are left," Jamie added.
"We just have to be careful," Alexander concluded, eyes scanning the empty corners of the room.
Vroom!
The sudden roar of a limo stopping made them all flinch. Their hearts thudded in unison.
"Is that him?" they whispered, eyes wide.
Carefully, they rushed to peek through the windows. The limo doors opened, and a man stepped out. Long hair shimred faintly in the light, absorbing it rather than reflecting it, giving him an almost ethereal presence.
"That man has class," Bray muttered, a cold knot forming in his stomach.
Calm and deliberate, the man approached, crossing the fence into the premises. He walked toward the empty house first, pausing as if assessing the area, before turning toward their ho. Every step was precise, every movent calculated, like a model striding through a photoshoot.
"He’s coming!" Bray hissed, quickly they dived on couches.
"Act normal!" Alexander instructed, forcing stiff poses.
Knock knock.
"Yes?" Alexander called, voice sharper than he intended.
The door opened to reveal a man bowing—not casually, but with the disciplined precision of a martial artist.
"Thank you for keeping a limo for !" he said, and confusion rippled through the group. They had done nothing remarkable.
"No worries," Alexander replied with a shaky smile.
"My na is Greg. If you need anything, co to ."
"I’m Alexander," he said.
"That’s Bray and Jamie," Greg nodded, still observing them carefully.
"Yeah we will co to you!" he added.
"I have to go freshen up!" He said as he turned ready to move way.
"We are having lunch—you can join us if you want," Alexander offered.
"No worries. I’ll cook my own," Greg said, his tone calm but carrying an unspoken edge.
"Bye, guys!" he waved.
"Bye," they echoed, smiling as Greg departed, his composure unshaken. Alexander could tell imdiately—this was no ordinary man; he was a martial artist.
---
[Attention Players]
A chanical voice cut through the quiet, cold and unfeeling. A shiver ran down their spines.
"The next Event is now," Jamie thought, his body trembling.
[I hope that you’ve refreshed your energy.]
Every system screen in the house flickered to life, displaying a glowing map.
[Follow the map to the mission post.]
[Every successful participant will receive 50 blue points >that are used to upgrade personal stats
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