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    The world was dead.


    A thick layer of gray dust blanketed everything, stretching endlessly toward the horizon. The wind whispered through the desolation, stirring up faint clouds of ash that drifted like ghosts in the air.


    Ghosts. How fitting.


    The world was dead.


    And in death, a certain kind of life endured.


    A small group of figures moved through the wasteland, their bodies wrapped in tattered cloth, faces obscured by old gas masks. They carried shovels and rusted metal rods, prodding the ground, overturning debris, searching for anything of value.


    Scavengers.


    Among them walked a young man, sluggish and silent, his grip loose around the rusted crowbar in his hand. Like the rest, he worked efficiently—digging, sifting, occasionally pocketing scraps of metal or half-melted trinkets. Anything that might be worth something to someone.


    Then—


    “Oh?”


    A glint of light caught his eye beneath the swirling dust. He crouched, brushing away layers of filth. He wasn’t sure what he expected—something, anything, proof that life had existed before all of this. But as his fingers dug deeper, they met something solid. Brittle.


    A skull.


    His breath hitched, and without thinking, he pulled his mask down. The air was thick, heavy. The scent of roast filled his nostrils—a smell that, under different circumstances, might have been appetizing. But here, it was wrong. Sickening.


    "Adam!"


    A sharp voice snapped him back to reality. A gloved hand smacked the back of his head, jolting him forward.


    “Boy, what the hell did I tell you ‘bout takin’ off yo’ goddamn mask?!”


    The hand belonged to an older man, his scowl visible through the cracked visor of his gas mask. “Don’t inhale this shit! We don’t even know what kind of diseases we’re catchin’ out here.”


    “Hm.” Adam exhaled, slipping his mask back on. But his gaze lingered on the skull, half-buried in ash.


    This wasteland, this endless sea of gray, was not the remnants of some forest razed by fire. No.


    It had once been people.


    Thousands—burned, erased, reduced to dust and bone, their remains swept away by the wind.


    And to think, just half a day ago, Adam had seen them alive. On live television. Struggling. Afraid.


    What are you even thinking about? Work, Adam. Nothing else matters. Wo—


    “This is bullshit! We’ve been here for hours, and all I got are these stupid earrings!”


    A loud voice yanked Adam back from his thoughts. One of the other scavengers, an older man—though not as old as the one who had reprimanded him—tossed his shovel down with a frustrated grunt.


    “We’re wasting our damn time. There’s nothing left here but junk.”


    “Better junk than nothing,” another scavenger muttered, slipping a rusted coin into his pocket. He let out a bitter laugh. “Fuck. The real problem is the tax. Why do we have to give up fifty goddamn percent of what we find?”


    “I just want something to take home to my family, man.” Another voice, weary and resigned. “This is no way to make a living… If only I got summoned to the Game.”


    “And one day, we’ll be standing on top of you—just like the rest of these sorry motherfuckers.”


    A man ground his boot into a charred skull, crushing it to dust, adding yet another layer to the desert of the dead.


    “One moment, you’re just enjoying time with your girl, and the next, you’re teleported onto the battlefield. Fuck that.”


    Adam kept his head down as the scavengers talked amongst themselves, their voices grating in his ears. He didn’t care to join in. He never did. But they were loud. Too loud. It was impossible to tune them out.


    “This last Game was brutal. Did you see the final minutes? A fucking massacre.”


    “As if it could’ve ended any other way. The First Soldier was on the Red team. You really thought the Blues had a chance?”


    “Damn. That was crazy. When was the last time the First Soldier was summoned? Seven years ago? Ten?”


    “I just feel sorry for these people.”


    One of the scavengers crouched down, scooping up a handful of ash. He let it slip through his fingers, the wind carrying it away as he muttered,


    “Forced to fight in a war they didn’t ask to be part of.”


    “Psh. I’d be glad to take their place. If one of the Administrators chose me? I’d be a Hero in what? Three, four Games?”


    “Fucking idiot. The fastest recorded rise to Hero was seven Games. You’d be lucky to last two. Hell, you’d probably die in your first.”


    Laughter erupted from the group.


    Then, someone called out, “Hey, Adam! What about you? You wanna join the Game? How many battles do you think you’d need to win?”


    Another voice snickered. “Pfft. The schizo can’t even stand the sight of blood. You think he’d survive? He’s a coward.”


    “I wasn’t asking you, dumbass. Adam!?”


    Adam exhaled slowly, closing his eyes as every gaze turned to him. He could feel their anticipation, waiting for some kind of reaction.


    After a few seconds, he shook his head.


    “No.”


    A simple answer. But inside, his mind was in turmoil.


    You’re probably the last person who wants to be part of the Game, aren’t you, Adam?


    All that pain. That suffering. You’ve seen it. Lived it. You don’t want it.


    “See!? Fucking knew it. Schizo’s a damn coward. Hey, if any of us get summoned, just stick to me, Adam.”


    “Don’t fucking call it a game.”


    The voice was sharper this time, carrying weight. It came from someone in the group who hadn’t spoken much until now.


    “Thousands died here. Millions more in the other Domes. Have some fucking respect.”


    The scoffer rolled his eyes. “Everyone calls it a game.”


    The Game.


    That’s what the world had named it.


    It started twenty years ago. The event that changed everything.


    No one knew how or why it happened. Only that one day, in the year 2025, humanity was punished.


    A hundred asteroids fell to Earth all at once. The world’s governments scrambled to stop them, but the rocks were indestructible. Immovable.


    The world could only watch as the sky cracked open and death came crashing down.


    But it wasn’t death that greeted them.


    It was a game. The Game.


    The asteroids didn’t destroy the land. They didn’t bring fire or devastation. Instead, they split open like colossal, blooming flowers, enveloping entire cities in translucent domes.


    And within those domes, a voice spoke.


    The Administrators.


    They told the trapped that they had been chosen.


    Chosen at random. Fairly. Exactly 60,000 per Dome.


    For what? They all asked.


    The answer they received was a death sentence.


    They were to fight.


    A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    To wage war.


    To kill.


    To destroy the enemy’s Crystal..


    Blue vs. Red.


    No one agreed at first, of course. Most protested.


    But those who did—those who refused—burst into flames where they stood. Their screams filled the domes, their bodies reduced to cinders in an instant.


    That was enough to change everyone’s mind.


    And so, they fought. And they killed.


    But the domes didn’t just contain people. No, there were monsters too. Creatures not of this world—twisted, unimaginable things that tore through flesh as easily as paper.


    The world outside tried to intervene. Governments scrambled for solutions, launching missiles, deploying their greatest weapons. One nation even fired a nuclear warhead at the dome within its borders. But the barriers were as indestructible as the asteroids that had birthed them.


    The rest of humanity could only watch.


    And so, they did.


    They watched as their people slaughtered one another inside a bubble they could not touch.


    And then, finally, there was a winner.


    The victors were rewarded—granted Strength beyond human limits, strength that eventually led to wealth, power, influence.


    The losers?


    They were reduced to nothing but ash. Their reward was fire, consuming them until nothing remained. A minimum of half—always at least half—of the 60,000 per Dome guaranteed to die.


    And then, as if nothing had happened, the domes vanished.


    Humanity thought the nightmare was over.


    But exactly one month later, new domes appeared. Different locations. Different people.


    And this time, it was worse.


    Whenever the numbers inside a battlefield weren’t enough, the Administrators simply took more. Summoning people at random—plucking them from their homes, their workplaces, their families. One moment, living their lives in peace. The next, thrown into a warzone.


    And those who had already fought before? They were chosen again. And again. And again.


    A never-ending cycle. A system that decided life and death at random, every month.


    The population dwindled. Halved within two decades. And it would continue to decline—month by month, war by war.


    A slow, but sure, apocalypse.


    Twenty years later, humanity had reshaped itself entirely to survive. Civilization, culture, everything was different.


    And today, Adam was standing in the remains of the latest victims of the so-called game.


    “How many did I even get?” Adam muttered, but he wasn’t talking to anyone at all, “I still have enough food to last for three days, I’ll be fine. I’ll be fine.”


    He was talking to himself, crouching down with his crowbar to find something valuable. But like the other scavengers said, everything of value has probably already been grabbed by other scavenger units.


    Still, he continued to go through all the ash. But soon, his frustration reached the end of this dark gray desert.


    “Damn it!” He slammed his crowbar into the ground before abruptly standing up, stepping back without realizing someone was behind him.


    “Hey!”


    Adam winced as he instinctively grabbed the other scavenger’s arm to steady him. Unfortunately, the man did the same, and instead of regaining their footing, both of them lost balance and tumbled to the ground.


    “The fuck!” The scavenger cursed and immediately stood up, “Schizo, can you watch where you’re—Holy shit! Are you alright!?”


    The anger forming on the scavenger’s face instantly faded away as soon as he saw Adam’s thigh, the sharp end of a crowbar pierced through right next to the arteries. He could even see a large shard of Adam’s bone slightly poking out along with the metal.


    “Fuck! Guys, Adam’s injured!” The man quickly called for the others.


    “What!? Adam!?”


    “Yo, hurry up an’ grab the med kit! We can’t be havin’ another injury up in here, or they gon’ shut us down fo’ real!”


    The other scavengers quickly rushed to Adam’s aid, the dark gray ash scattering in the air from their gallop. The medic did not waste any time at all and crouched next to Adam.


    “Where’s he injured!?” The medic asked, and the scavenger quickly pointed at Adam’s left thigh.


    “The fucking thing’s poking out! Are you blind!?”


    “In the thighs!? We need to get him to a hospital if—Huh?” Before the medic could open his kit, his words were cut off when Adam suddenly stood up.


    “No hospitals!” Adam raised his voice, the sound of his breaths escaping through his mask from how heavy it was, “I’m not… I’m not injured. I’m not. No hospitals, please. No… no hospitals.”


    The medic clicked his tongue when he saw Adam walk with an injury.


    “Sit down, Adam!” He groaned as he pulled Adam back, “You’re going to make your injuries… worse?”


    His words slowed down, however, as he checked both of Adam’s thighs. He tried to find the crowbar that was supposed to be sticking out, but there was nothing there—there was blood on his pants, but it could also just be dirt. It was hard to tell since everything was covered in soot and ash. The medic looked at Adam’s hand, only to see him holding a piece of bone.


    “I think Derek saw this,” Adam sighed, his breaths now much steadier. The surrounding scavengers looked at the piece of bone and exchanged glances before collectively shaking their heads at their colleague, the one responsible for sending them all into a panic.


    “Man, stop drinking too much fucking coffee. Get some sleep.”


    “You’re not even thinking straight, and you want to be summoned to the Game? You’re even crazier than Adam. We don’t need two psychos in this team.”


    “What the…” The scavenger who bumped into Adam stuttered as he stared at Adam’s thighs. He was sure that he wasn’t just seeing things, the crowbar was truly poking out of his flesh from one end to the other—and yet right now, there was nothing, “...I could swear that there was something there!”


    “Aight, aight! I think we all just need to chill an’ get back to work tomorrow.” The old man who told Adam to put his mask back on earlier clapped his hands.


    “But Boss, we barely got anything today!”


    “This isn’t even enough to buy me some booze, Boss!”


    “Shut the hell up an’ get yo’ ass back to the bus! Now! I’ma try to snag us a permit on the West Lane!” The old man, who turned out to be the leader of the scavenger party, pushed the ones complaining away by force. “Bus. Now! I ain’t tryna push my luck an’ have a leak pop up, summonin’ all them monsters up on our business. I ain’t gonna be no monster food. You hear me, son!?”


    Hearing the rising temper in his voice, the scavengers could do nothing but pack up and obey. Their backs were hunched as they returned to the bus. Some of them, however, were still prodding the ground with their sticks, hoping to get lucky.


    Unfortunately for all of them, there truly was barely anything in the area they covered and th,e disappointment on their faces could be seen as soon as they removed their masks while on the bus.


    “Fuck… I think I inhaled too much of your mama, Derek. Maybe you sniffed some of that too that’s why you’re seeing things.” One of the scavengers joked while rubbing his nose. Even with the mask on, all of their faces were still covered in gray.


    “Fuck you,” the scavenger who bumped into Adam, Derek, laughed while wiping his face, “I swear, though. I really thought the schizo’s done for.”


    “I wonder how your mother feels now that she’s inside all of us.” Another scavenger joined in. Their bodies all swayed to one side as the bus started to move.


    “Hey. That’s enough. Let Derek’s ol’ lady rest in peace. What the fuck, man.” The leader of the scavenger team smirked while shaking his head. He then turned to the scavenger to seated to his left, who was completely covered in clothing from head to toe,


    “You know? It’s true. Derek’s mama got summoned to fight and ended up dyin’. But from what Derek been sayin’, she was a grade A bitch—used to beat on him when he was little.”


    “O…Oh.” The scavenger didn’t know what to say. He tried to laugh, but Derek glared at him.


    “Hold up. What yo’ name is again? Today was your first day, right?”


    “My name’s Han…Hans, Mr. Jefferson.” The newbie lowered his hat as he spoke.


    “Hanhans? The fuck kinda name is that? And why you wearing so many clothes? Ain’t you hot?” The leader, Jefferson, raised an eyebrow at the newbie, “Anyway, if you got any questions, just holla at me, not one of these clowns. So, got any questions?”


    “Oh… thank you.” Hans nodded before his eyes landed on Adam, whose face was still covered in soot and ash, “Then… can I ask why everyone keeps calling him a schizo?”


    “Oh. Pfft. Adam?” Jefferson waved his hand, “Ain’t no need to trip ‘bout him, he harmless. The boy just likes talkin’ to himself an’ shit. But he’s a good boy. One, he straight up dropped some treasure next to Gab so he could find it, tryna get some extra bread for that new baby of his. Adam helped him secretly, thought ain''t nobody gon'' notice—but I saw that shit.”


    “He… did that?” Hans’s eyes widened.


    “Damn right, he did. He just… a l’il loose in the head, but who ain’t? Never hurt no one. Ain’t seen the boy smile even once, though. You’ll get used to it—we all good people ‘round here, even though… you know.”


    “Except Derek’s mama.”


    “Man. Fuck you, guys.”


    The sour mood instantly switched as the team laughed with each other at the expense of Derek and his deceased mother. The laughter did not stay for long, however, as the scavengers found themselves dead asleep not even a minute later.


    The only ones that were awake were the driver and Adam. Adam still kept to himself, his bright green eyes slowly glimmering as they left the desert of ash. He rested his head on the window, looking at the sky and the ruined buildings around him. He remained like that for hours, until they reached the nearest city, and the ruined buildings became lively, the ground once again became paved, and the people walked the streets.


    Talking. Smiling. Laughing as if death weren’t just by their doorstep.


    And the gray sky that reflected in Adam’s green eyes was replaced by tabloids, billboards, and colorful giant screens plastered on the tall buildings, all of them showing the Heroes of the last battle.


    20 years ago, when all of this first started, there were no Heroes at all. Everyone was equal—Creeps, as they learned to be called since it was already a popular term from a video game that was eerily similar to the apocalyptic war.


    But when one side won and the other was burnt into ashes, the victors were gifted the reward of strength. They were given Points for each person they murdered, and those points can be used to buy strength, in the literal sense.


    Just like… a game.


    And for the first time in humanity’s history, the common people could buy power.


    Those who had participated in the Game before were more likely to be summoned again. If their side wins, they gain even more power. And then if they win again, and then again—if they managed to survive until they have gained enough power, they will be reborn into Heroes by the Game.


    Heroes are immortal inside the Game. They respawn, over and over again. Only six of them are allowed on each side. And even if their side loses, they will not be burned to death, no.


    Only the Creeps are killed.


    And after 20 years, there were now at least twenty thousand documented Heroes. There would have been a lot more, but human nature caused them to kill each other outside the Game. Some even assassinate creeps when they are about to become Heroes due to… illegal betting issues.


    The strongest and most popular ones of them have become akin to celebrities. No, they were treated as idols—they practically ruled the world now.


    They are in the government, or perhaps it would be better to say that they are the government.


    They weren’t truly Heroes in the literal sense; that was just what the world learned to call them—once again, an influence from the same video game.


    The people used drones to watch the battlefield, hovering above and around the dome.


    They cheered, they mourned, and they cheered again.


    The world was dead, and humanity had turned it into entertainment.


    Some dreamt of being summoned by the Administrators to join the Game, while most dread it. Adam… Adam was definitely the latter.


    There was so much pain in the game, to the point that he avoided watching it like it was the plague.


    Because Adam… Adam knew pain more than most people.


    I don’t want to get hurt. Never again. Never.


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