At sunrise, the city changed.
The sky, still a dull rust-red, pulsed with slow, thunderous heartbeats. A low hum spread through the buildings like they were waking up. Somewhere distant, a horn sounded—deep, ceremonial, and ancient.
Matthew stood with Luca, the sharp-eyed girl (who finally gave her name as Rin), and the quiet sketchbook girl, Sora. All four had followed the glowing path of red arrows that burned into the cracked pavement, guiding them toward the center of the city.
The arena awaited.
They stepped into a massive stone courtyard that hadn't been there the night before. It looked like a castle square transplanted from some medieval dream—weathered stone towers, crumbling battlements, rusted iron gates. The skyline of the dead city remained behind it, distorted and far away, like they had crossed into another realm.
Above the gate, a single word blazed in the sky:
THE KING'S TRIAL
A mechanical clunk echoed as the gates slammed shut behind them.
A new voice, male and cold, boomed from nowhere and everywhere at once:
"WELCOME, PLAYERS.
OBJECTIVE: IDENTIFY THE KING AMONG YOU.
RULES: ONE OF YOU HAS BEEN RANDOMLY ASSIGNED THE ROLE OF 'KING'.
THE REST ARE SUBJECTS.
YOU HAVE 60 MINUTES TO UNCOVER WHO THE KING IS—OR DIE.
FAILURE TO IDENTIFY CORRECTLY MEANS INSTANT ELIMINATION FOR ALL SUBJECTS.
IF THE KING REMAINS UNDETECTED, THEY ALONE SURVIVE.
LET THE GAME BEGIN."
A timer appeared mid-air:
60:00
Matthew's breath caught in his throat.
"This is… a social game?" Luca said, voice tight.
Rin growled. "It's a death sentence. One of us is lying. One of us isn't who they say they are."
Sora clutched her notebook tighter.
Matthew looked around. "Wait. None of us chose to be king, right?"
"No," Rin snapped. "Which means one of us is pretending. Watching. Waiting for us to turn on each other."
Luca swore. "This is how they do it. They make us doubt. Make us turn."
Rin took a step back from the group. "Alright. No one move. No sudden accusations. We can figure this out logically."
"Or maybe you're the King," Luca said, eyes narrowing.
Rin's jaw clenched. "I'm not playing defense this early."
"Let's calm down," Matthew said. "We need to think. We've got an hour—plenty of time."
"Time," Sora said softly, "is a trick in this place."
58:12
Suddenly, stone panels rose from the ground—four doorways surrounding them, each marked with a symbol: Crown, Sword, Mask, and Key.
The voice returned:
"OPTIONAL ROOMS UNLOCKED.
ONE ROOM HOLDS A CLUE.
THE REST, A TRAP."
Rin looked at them all. "We each take one. Alone."
"No way," Luca snapped. "That's what they want. Split us up."
"Then we vote," Matthew said. "We choose who enters which room. If anyone dies… maybe that's our King."
"Or maybe that's just the first casualty," Rin muttered.
They chose.
Matthew took the Key.
Rin chose the Sword.
Luca took the Crown.
Sora was left with the Mask.
They stepped into their doors.
Matthew's room was empty—cold stone, a single torch, and a wall etched with symbols. A riddle.
"A King with no throne, a key with no lock.
Trust not the crown, but the one who knocks."
He stared.
"Trust not the crown…" he whispered.
Luca?
Then he heard the scream.
It echoed from the other side of the arena.
When the doors opened again, they emerged—Rin limping slightly, Sora visibly shaken…
Luca wasn't with them.
Only his door reopened, smoke pouring out.
Matthew's stomach dropped.
"No…" he muttered.
A message appeared above them:
SUBJECT ELIMINATED.
REMAINING TIME: 41:22
Sora's lip trembled. "He wasn't the King."
"We don't know that," Rin said coldly. "This game plays with our heads. He could've triggered the trap, or it was designed to kill whoever wasn't the King."
Matthew shook his head. "I found a clue. A riddle. It said, 'trust not the crown.' Luca had the Crown room."
Rin's eyes darkened. "So maybe it was him."
"Or the game lied."
The tension was suffocating.
Sora finally whispered, "We need to choose. At the end. Someone will have to accuse. Only one chance."
Matthew looked between the two girls.
One was the King.
He was sure of it now.
But which one?
And if he guessed wrong…
All of them would die.
TIME REMAINING: 34:09
Matthew reached the final platform.
The throne loomed before him—carved from dark stone, stained with something that looked like dried blood. The mannequin sitting upon it twitched once more, mechanical and slow, as though sensing his presence.
He dropped to one knee, panting, sweat dripping down his face.
The trail behind him was gone. No way back. Only forward.
His wristband flashed red, then white.
TIME REMAINING: 00:14
CONTACT THE THRONE TO COMPLETE THE GAME
He stepped forward—and touched the base of the throne.
The entire room froze.
The mannequin's head tilted up sharply—locking eyes with him.
And then…
It spoke.
Not in a robotic voice.
But a real one.
Deep. Familiar. Hollow.
"Well done, Matthew."
Matthew's blood ran cold.
That voice.
He knew it.
It wasn't possible.
"…Dad?" he whispered.
The mannequin shuddered violently, then slumped forward—and its face began to change. Skin grew across metal. Eyes formed from darkness. Hair, features… shape.
It was him.
His father.
Not entirely. The face was slightly wrong. Waxen. Like a mask molded from memory.
But the voice?
Unmistakable.
"Always chasing the throne, aren't you, son? Always trying to prove something."
Matthew stumbled back.
"No. You're not real."
The King stood.
Its hands flexed—half-machine, half-flesh.
"I'm as real as your fear. As your guilt."
"And I'll be waiting at the end."
The crown in Matthew's hands crumbled to ash.
The room shattered into white light.
GAME CLEARED
SUBJECT-MATCH: KING IDENTITY CONFIRMED
DATA RECORDED
When Matthew opened his eyes, he was lying on cracked pavement in the Death Land city square.
Alone.
His wristband now blinked with something new.
KING TRIGGER DETECTED. GAME PATH ALTERED.
Matthew sat up slowly, breath shaking.
He didn't just survive a trial.
He had awakened something.
And whatever ruled Death Land… now knew exactly who he was.