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    Creeps weren’t supposed to have weapons, at least not normally. They could carry crowbars, steel pipes, and all other things they could use as makeshift weapons on the ground, but they could never have brought weapons into the Game unless they were made from special materials.


    So why? — was everyone’s question as they looked at the army marching toward them. Why were the enemy creeps that were approaching them now all armed? They had swords, spears, a shield… some of them even had armor on.


    And while most of the creeps were frozen and confused, the veterans realized what was happening.


    “Don’t tell me…” Harvey took a step back, his words almost stammered as he looked at Jake, and Jake said the words he was dreading to continue.


    “The Echo Smith. They have Ilyana in their team.” The high-level veteran, Jake, groaned as he said that, shaking his head before looking at the other creeps.


    “Why didn’t you say so earlier!?” Harvey growled.


    “They… didn’t have them when we fought.”


    Being summoned to the Game was already a death sentence, but fighting against an army carrying all sorts of weapons?


    That was suicide.


    Unfortunately, everyone knew that.


    And they all started running away in panic.


    “Run… Run!”


    “They have weapons! W… why!?”


    “This is a massacre!”


    “No… no!”


    “Maybe… maybe if we don’t move, they won’t kill us!?”


    The ground trembled beneath them, mirroring the rising panic in their voices. But soon, even that drumbeat of fear was drowned out—overpowered by the roars of the advancing enemy.


    A clear mind would have noticed the truth. The ones charging toward them had tears streaking their faces. Their steps were hesitant. Their march, reluctant.


    But for those already cowering in fear, all they heard was a battle cry.


    “Everyone, please! There are more of us, and we—”


    Jake tried to steady them, his sharp eyes recognizing the fear gripping the enemy just as much as their own. But his voice was swallowed by the chaos.


    And then—everything shattered.


    Harvey, the man who had stood firm just moments ago, the one barking orders and demanding silence, broke first.


    He screamed.


    Tears and snot streamed down his face as he turned and ran.


    And at that moment, whatever courage remained in Adam’s group unraveled. Those who had been ready to fight saw their leader flee—and with him, their last shred of resolve.


    One by one, they turned.


    And they ran.


    And all it takes is one.


    All it takes is one person to trip to cause a stampede.


    And there it is—a man stumbling over his own foot.


    He hit the ground hard, and before he could get up, someone else tripped over him. Then another. And another.


    In an instant, bodies collapsed like dominoes, a tangled mess of limbs and panic.


    People were being crushed beneath the burden of the weight of their own allies—literally. Their voices, once filled with terror, were now reduced to muffled groans, barely audible beneath the chaos.


    There had never been a plan.


    Their so-called Heroes had abandoned them, leaving them for dead. Maybe they had never intended to win in the first place.


    After all, why fight when there was nothing to gain?


    It wasn’t like they’d be burned with the creeps if they lost. And even if they killed enemy Heroes or creeps, it wouldn’t make them any stronger.


    So what was the point?


    The creeps. They truly were nothing but disposable pawns meant to die.


    And soon, the screams started again as the enemy team finally reached them. They didn’t hesitate at all. With tears on their faces, and endless mutterings of sorries from their lips, they stabbed, slashed, and crushed anyone with a Red Halo hovering above their heads.


    There was no mercy at all. Those who pleaded for their lives, those who were running, those who were pinned down from the stampede—they kill them all.


    And through all of this, Adam stood still. Frozen. Painfully pathetic. Whispering to himself,


    “Why? Why are they hurting other people? Why are they causing so much pain and torment to another human being? Why?”


    His lips moved without pause, his eyes straying uncontrollably as he witnessed the wave of massacre in front of him. He gripped the handle of his makeshift shield hard, but the sound it made as it trembled reflected the chaos in his mind.


    A chaos ever greater than what he was witnessing. This chaos, however, was utterly silenced when he felt a warmth touching his hand.


    “Nathan!”


    Grace’s voice cut through the chaos as she grabbed his hand, her other arm wrapped tightly around her daughter, Samantha. She shook Adam’s arm, snapping him out of his stupor.


    “We need to go! We need to run and hide!” she screamed.


    And suddenly—visions of the woman from his dreams flashed before his eyes, her face overlapping with Grace’s.


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    He remembered.


    He finally remembered what kind of expression the woman in his dreams had worn.


    Desperation, yes.


    But also—like Grace—there was a glimmer of hope in her eyes.


    A small tug on his shirt pulled him back to the present. Adam looked down to see Samantha clinging to his jacket, her tiny hands shaking.


    “M-Mister…” she whimpered, her voice breaking. “Let’s… let’s go. Please! I’m… I’m scared. I… I don’t want Mommy to get hurt!”


    Like a spark igniting in his mind, Adam moved.


    He pulled free from Grace’s grip, crouched down, and scooped Samantha into his arms, positioning her behind his shield.


    He met Grace’s eyes for only a second—no words, no nods exchanged.


    And then they ran.


    Away from the onslaught. Away from the violence.


    “Cover your ears and close your eyes,” Adam whispered, holding Samantha closer. His breaths were heavy from carrying her, but his words were clear—so clear that even Grace could hear them through the screams around them.


    “It won’t help. Not really. But it’ll take you someplace else. Imagine your favorite food, your favorite person, your favorite animal, your favorite place. Picture yourself there, sharing a meal with them.”


    Grace choked at his words. She bit her lip, swallowing the sob rising in her throat as she looked at her daughter. She nodded, urging her to do as Adam said. And Samantha did.


    Grace wanted to do the same. To escape, even just for a moment.


    But she couldn’t.


    She had to survive. That was the only way to keep her child safe.


    Run.


    They ran as fast as they could, away from the carnage, away from the people. There was no going back—the Administrators would kill them if they tried.


    Forward.


    That was the only way.


    But ahead, another army waited. They knew they were only delaying their deaths.


    Still, they moved forward.


    Hope.


    This was what hope meant—running blind in the darkness, believing that somewhere, eventually, there would be light.


    They had been running for only seconds.


    It felt like eternity.


    But then—


    “You two! Here!”


    Light.


    Jake stood in the doorway of a small restaurant, its windows barred with metal shutters. He waved them in.


    “Hurry!”


    Adam and Grace forced their legs to move faster, teeth gritted, lungs burning. They never looked back—never checked if anyone was following.


    “Inside, now!”


    The moment they stepped through, Jake slammed the shutters down behind them.


    It was dark. But for the first time, they could breathe.


    Not safe. Not yet. But breathing.


    “Hide in the kitchen,” Jake ordered, peering through the gaps in the shutters. “We’re not safe yet.”


    “Thank you.” Grace wasted no time expressing her gratitude.


    As soon as Adam set Samantha down, she ran to Jake, tugging at his shirt. “Thank you again, mister.”


    Jake smiled softly, patting her head. But he didn’t speak—just nodded before returning his focus outside.


    Samantha turned back to Adam, hugging his leg. “Thank you too, mister. Thank you.”


    Adam crouched, bringing himself to her level. His voice softened. “It’s… okay.”


    For a moment—just almost—a smile threatened to break through.


    “And thank you for being brave,” he said. “Now, I need you to do something, okay?”


    Samantha nodded hesitantly. “What… what is it?”


    “I want you to keep being brave.” Adam swallowed. “And I want you to listen to your mother, okay? No matter what happens, don’t let go of her hand. Promise me.”


    “Hmm.”


    Samantha sniffled, wiping the tears from her face before running back to Grace. She clutched her mother’s hand as tightly as she could, then looked back at Adam.


    “I promise.”


    Adam nodded. “Good.”


    He cast a glance at Grace before finally following Jake’s instructions and heading toward the kitchen.


    To their surprise, there were already people hiding inside—about five of them. At first, the group stared at Adam and Grace in shock. But the moment they noticed the Red Halos hovering above their heads, they silently returned to what they were doing: panicking in hushed whispers, hands clasped in prayer.


    Adam and Grace exchanged looks before settling near an oven. Carefully, they lowered themselves to the floor, mindful not to disturb anyone.


    Grace immediately tended to Samantha, making sure she was comfortable—but she needn’t have worried. The moment Samantha lay in her lap, she drifted into sleep.


    And as soon as she fell asleep, the tears that Grace had been trying to hold onto immediately burst from her eyes. Her entire body convulsed, but she cried quietly in fear that she would wake her daughter.


    She wanted to cover her face, to catch the tears before they fell on her daughter, but she couldn’t bring herself to let go of her.


    Then, she felt a nudge.


    She turned.


    Adam sat beside her, silent, his shoulder subtly leaning in, offering a certain solace as she rested her face on it and used it to hide her tears.


    She stayed like that for minutes, soaking his shoulder in tears.


    But he never said a thing.


    He let her cry until she had nothing left.


    When it was over, she exhaled a deep, shuddering breath and whispered, “Thank you.”


    Adam sighed too, shaking his head. “I should be the one thanking the two of you. If you hadn’t woken me up… I’d still be there. And I’d be in a lot more pain.”


    “Hmm,” Grace sniffled, wiping the last of her tears as she glanced down at Samantha, brushing gentle fingers through her hair.


    “You’re… good with kids,” she murmured, then looked at Adam. “Did you have younger siblings growing up?”


    “No.” Adam closed his eyes. “But… I had someone I treated like an older sister. She always comforted me when I was scared.”


    Grace hesitated, then asked, “How old are you?”


    Adam looked up, thoughtful. “I don’t know. But I guess… twenty-seven?”


    Grace nearly choked. She clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle her reaction, then leaned in, whispering harshly, “You’re only three years younger than me? I thought you were, like… a teenager! You look so young. Wait—you were also born before the Game?”


    “Yes,” Adam nodded, “I might be older, I… don’t know. My memory’s hazy before the asteroids fell. But I remember it, I was running away.”


    “I’m… the same,” Grace smiled, but she tilted her head and leaned away to get a closer look at Adam’s face, “But I’m just shocked, you look… so young. I thought you were born after the Game.”


    “No…” Adam lifted his knees and hugged his legs to hide his face.


    “You know, I was playing with my friends at school when it happened. None of us really knew it happened. We were… completely unaffected, I didn’t even think it was a big deal until my dad was summoned to the game four years later. All I remember was that the world started changing after that moment. What about you? Do you have… any fond memories you remember before the Game?”


    Saw. Needles. Scalpels. Blood. Lots of blood.


    “I… same.” He forced the words out, shaking his head as if to dislodge the images flashing through his mind. “Playing with… friends.”


    A lie.


    “That—”


    But a lie he did not have to keep for a long time at all.


    “Shit! They’re coming in!”


    All of a sudden, the moment between the two shattered as they were reminded of where they were.


    Jake barreled into the kitchen, his voice cracking with haste. “The Blues know we’re inside! They’re surrounding the restaurant!”


    Without hesitation, he grabbed a knife from the counter. “Make sure the back door is shut tight!”


    He pointed to the nearest person to do it, but they didn’t react—too consumed by fear, hands clamped over their ears, eyes squeezed shut.


    “Shit!”


    Jake moved to secure the door himself, but before he could take a step, Adam was already on it.


    He shook the door, testing the lock, then shoved one of the heavy counters in front of it. He pressed his weight against it, making sure no one was getting through.


    Jake watched him for a moment, then gave a small nod. Without a word, he handed Adam the knife.


    “Protect them,” he said. “And whatever you do, don’t go outside. If they realize someone’s hiding in here, you’ll all die.”


    Then his voice dropped, colder than before.


    “But… if they do get in, I want you to kill the mother and daughter.”


    “…What?”


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