Chapter 5
Elimination - Type: Culling
“Holy shit!”
Dave just fucking exploded. Like a human water balloon filled with warm soup. My ears are ringing, my head is spinning, and my shoes—oh god, my shoes—are covered in what used to be Dave. A sticky, crimson sludge coats my pants up to the knees, clinging to the fabric in a way that tells this shit is never coming out.
The break room slls like copper and bile. I think I might throw up. My stomach lurches and a sour burn runs up my throat like acid mixed with the afterburn of gas station coffee.
My brain is stuck in a feedback loop, trying to process what just happened, but there’s no rational pathway to follow. One second, Dave was standing there, sweaty and scared. The next, boom—he’s repainting the walls with his insides.
I stumble back, nearly slipping on a chunk of sothing that I absolutely refuse to identify, and slap my hand against the wall to steady myself. My heart is jackhamring against my ribs, my breathing fast and shallow.
I shove my phone into my pocket—because for so goddamn reason, I still have it in my hand, like checking the news is going to help make sense of any of this—and force my legs to move. One slow, careful step. Then another.
Side-stepping around the aty puddle forrly known as Dave, I push open the break room door and power-walk straight toward the employee bathroom at the back of the store.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…!” I mutter under my breath, feeling the residual warmth of Dave’s bodily fluids soaking through my pants. My hands are shaking, my pulse a wild, unsteady thing in my throat.
I have no idea what the hell is happening.
All I know is that Dave exploded, and I’m pretty sure I might be next.
I slam the bathroom door shut behind , twisting the lock with hands that won’t stop shaking. The tiny, single-use restroom is as unremarkable as ever—stained linoleum, fluorescent lighting that buzzes faintly, the faint scent of industrial cleaner. For once, the dull familiarity is almost comforting.
Almost.
My reflection in the bathroom mirror greets . Blue eyes looking slightly sunken, short dark hair wild, and a spray of red right across my face. I look crazy, I ironically think as I might actually be losing my mind.
I stagger to the sink and crank the faucet. Cold water rushes out, and I splash it onto my face, scrubbing at the sticky specks of blood clinging to my skin. The water turns pink in the basin, swirling down the drain as I grab a handful of paper towels and scrub at my cheeks. My reflection stares back at , pale and wide-eyed, lips pressed into a thin line. “Okay, slightly less crazy looking,” I mumble.
Deep breath in. Deep breath out. Get it together, Joe.
Then I feel it—a pulsing in my mind, soft and rhythmic, like a cell phone notification buzzing on vibrate.
I freeze, my hands still gripping the edge of the sink. The sensation is . . . wrong. Like sothing foreign, sothing that shouldn’t be there.
No. No, no, no. That was just a dream. The whole thing—the System, the asshole with the snakes, the weird tutorial bullshit. It wasn’t real. It can’t be real. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to will away the feeling and the mories. Then, as though in response, the pulse echoes in my mind.
Cautiously, heart pounding, I focus on the sensation. It feels . . . responsive? Expectant. Like it’s waiting for to respond.
I open my eyes. My mouth is dry. My hands tremble as I take a step back from the sink, suddenly afraid of my own reflection.
“. . . System?” I whisper, half-expecting nothing to happen.
A softly glowing, translucent screen flickers into existence inches from my face.
Oh.
Oh, fuck.
My breath catches as words begin appearing on the screen, typed out in real ti.
WELCO TO THE GOD GA, PARTICIPANT.
STAGE ONE: TUTORIAL - CLASS SELECTION
[In the First Stage of the God Ga, Participants will participate in Quests in order to familiarize themselves with the finer chanics of the System while growing in strength in preparation for the later Stages of the Ga.]
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
OBJECTIVES OF STAGE ONE:
Obtain the necessary requirents to unlock a Class.Select a Class.CONSEQUENCES FOR FAILING TO COMPLETE OBJECTIVES:
Elimination from the God Ga.All access to the System will be locked until the conclusion of the Ga.TI REMAINING IN STAGE ONE: 364 Days, 14 Hours, 32 Minutes.
Thank you for participating in this Cycle’s Ga. May Creation watch over all Participants and bring them success!
My mouth goes dry. I swallow hard, but the lump in my throat doesn’t go away.
The screen vanishes.
I stand there, my reflection staring back at in the mirror, my brain frantically trying to shove this whole thing into a nice, logical box where it makes sense.
It doesn’t.
Dave exploded.
The System is real.
And I’m in a ga I never signed up for.
“Oh, fuck.” The words that escape my lips are ones of resignation. My dad has another saying: You can’t always change everything. Sotis you’ve just got to roll up your sleeves and work with what’s in front of you. My mind was scrambling to co to grips with what was currently in front of it.
The thoughts are only interrupted by another pulse in my mind, another notification screen snapping into existence before .
New Quest!
Gate Initiation.
[Description: Participant must locate and enter a Gate, successfully clearing the Dungeon within.]
[Note: This Quest is available for a limited ti only. The ti limit will be randomly determined per Participant.]
[Consequences: Failure to complete this Quest within the Quest’s ti limit will result in Elimination of the Participant.]
[Elimination Type: Culling.]
[Rewards: Access to additional nu options.]
Continue?
My breath catches in my throat.
My eyes lock onto three words.
Elimination Type: Culling.
A cold, terrible feeling claws at my gut.
I think of the news headlines. Of Dave. Of the way his face twisted in panic, the way he knew sothing was happening to him, the way he barely had ti to say a damn thing before he exploded. What did he say again? I’m running out of ti, and I don’t know what to do.
Elimination. Culling.
A partial picture begins to form in my mind, and I don’t like it one bit.
“Damn it.”
Continue? The neat font blinks at the bottom of the interface floating before .
“Sure,” I mutter.
Another pulse, and the screen shifts again.
Quest: Gate Initiation. Ti Limit: . . .
Three new headers appear beneath the ssage: Days. Hours. Minutes.
A line of nine reels appear on the interface. Below each word are three digital reels each displaying the number ‘0’, like a goddamned slot machine.
This can’t be serious. This has to be a joke. Or whichever Gods were in charge of this Ga had a sick sense of humor. I thought of the smiling man in his throne, watching fumble my way through the assimilation process for the System. Yeah, that makes sense.
The word appears again, prompting : Continue?
My heart is hamring now, blood rushing in my ears. I try to focus, but panic is creeping in, clawing up my throat. If I’m right—if those numbers range anywhere from 0 to 9—then soone, sowhere, has already been fucked. I think of the headlines on my phone. Of Dave. No, so unlucky bastards already got royally screwed. That’s what had happened all across he globe. Hundreds of thousands of innocent people were looped into whatever kind of ga this was and presented with the sa Quest I was. They got minutes, maybe even seconds, to figure all this out before they were blown to pieces.
I picture so poor soul staring at their screen, too frozen to react, while the countdown hit zero. And then—
Pop.
I gag, forcing the thought out of my head.
I don’t have ti for this.
I grit my teeth and square my shoulders. It’s too late to be scared. Too late to hesitate. I need to work with what’s in front of .
I take a deep breath, steadying myself, and command the System to continue. This ti the System interface reacts imdiately to my thoughts.
All nine panels begin to spin rapidly. And I pray to whatever sick, twisted god is running this Ga that I don’t get a zero across the board.
The first number under Days stops: Zero.
The other panels continue to spin.
The second number: Zero.
Panic swells in my chest. I watch, breath held, as the second reel under the word Days slows. It clunks into place.
Zero.
“Shit. No, no, no—” I squeeze my eyes shut for half a second, praying to whatever might be listening that the third reel lands on anything but zero. I’m not much of a gambler, and after the feeling of dread and anxiety coursing through my veins right now, I never will be.
It stops.
Zero.
The bottom drops out of my stomach. I have no days. None.
I barely have ti to process that horrifying fact before the first reel under Hours lands on zero almost imdiately.
The second number ticks into place: 2.
Then, the third: 3.
I’m numb, and just taking in the visual information feedback. Sothing beneath the surface might rise to the level of relief but I’m still stunned by the first four zeroes.
The Minutes reels spin for another few seconds before settling on zero, 1, and 4.
I stare in mute horror as the numbers finalize and the screen lights up with a small burst of fanfare.
The reel disappears from the vision, the interface replacing it with a new ssage accompanied by that increasingly familiar pulse sensation in my mind.
Quest Update!
Quest: Gate Initiation.
[Ti Limit for completion of Quest updated to 23 hours, 14 minutes.]
I blink and the ssage is gone, replaced by an updated description of the Quest.
CURRENT QUESTS:
Gate Initiation.[Description: Participant must locate and enter a Gate, successfully clearing the Dungeon within.]
[Note: This Quest is available for a limited ti only.]
[Ti Limit: 23 hours, 14 minutes]
[Ti Remaining: 23 hours, 13 minutes]
[Consequences: Failure to complete this Quest within the Quest’s ti limit will result in Elimination of the Participant.]
[Elimination Type: Culling.]
[Rewards: Access to additional nu options.]
Just under a single day.
A day to find a Gate. A day to complete the Quest.
Or I end up like Dave.
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