"One, two, three, red light... doesn't sound dangerous."
Harlan stood beside Linray, adjusting his glasses. "Can't team up this time. Hope we both make it through."
"Yeah. Hope so."
Linray stared at the wooden figure standing at the far end, its back turned to the players. He didn't believe for a second this was friendly.
*Last time he saw this game on a screen, hundreds of people died. That was a show with a script.*
*This didn't have a script.*
"All participants, please stand behind the red line. The game will begin shortly."
"Of course — if anyone wishes to withdraw, you are welcome to do so now."
Two seconds of silence. Nobody moved.
"You have three minutes to complete the game. Begin!"
No fanfare. No countdown. The wooden figure's mouth opened and started counting.
---
*Speed, reflexes, strength — I'm beyond human in all of them. This game means nothing to me.*
The instant the count began, Linray launched forward. Faster than anyone. Faster than should have been possible.
"What the FUCK — how is he that fast?!"
"Is this guy a professional athlete?!"
"See? I TOLD you — teaming with him was the right call."
Harlan started moving too. Steady, measured. Not flashy, but controlled.
Fourteen people sprinted in a line across the field.
"One — two — three — RED LIGHT!"
Two seconds. Everyone froze. The fastest runners had covered maybe ten meters. Linray — a bit more. The wooden figure snapped around, face twisted into something grotesque and grinning.
"Shit, that was FAST. The countdown sounded like it would take three to five seconds—"
"How should I know? Just don't move!"
Two guys at the back, whispering. They thought they were hidden. They weren't.
The wooden figure's mouth opened again. Two shots. Loud, sharp cracks that echoed across the field.
Linray stood perfectly still, facing forward. He could imagine the scene behind him without turning around.
"OW! What the — is this KETCHUP?!"
"You don't have to shoot us even if we're out! Just let us leave!"
The two stumbled, red splatter across their clothes. Security staff materialized beside them and dragged them off.
Linray listened without moving. *They think those are ketchup bullets. They think getting eliminated means going home.*
*The host isn't killing them on the field because that would scare the others into quitting. Better to take them backstage first.*
"One — two — three —"
"Jesus, I thought that was a real bullet!"
"The more dangerous the game, the more exciting! That's the whole point!"
*Ignorance is bliss. These idiots are playing a death game and treating it like a carnival.*
*Whatever. Finish fast. Get out.*
---
"RED LIGHT!"
The figure spun. Everyone froze. No one spoke this time.
"One — two — three —"
Linray surged forward. Fast, explosive, eating up ground — and before he could even plant his back foot, the wooden figure was already turning.
*Bastard's getting faster.*
Didn't matter. He froze mid-step, one foot hovering, and held it like a statue until the figure looked away.
Harlan was falling behind. Sports weren't his thing — but he worked calm and steady. At this pace, a hundred meters in three minutes was manageable. He'd be fine.
Dex was right behind Linray. Fast reflexes, fast legs, competitive fire burning in his eyes. He stared at Linray's back, jaw tight.
*This guy looks like any random office worker. How the hell is he this strong? Everyone wants HIM. Nobody wanted me.*
"One — two — three — RED LIGHT!"
Another player couldn't hold their balance. Fell. Red ketchup on the forehead. Dragged away.
The game continued. One minute left. The wooden figure's countdown was accelerating. Getting faster every round.
"If this keeps up," Harlan called from the back, loud enough for everyone to hear, "in thirty seconds we'll have almost no time to move at all."
"You MUST finish within the next thirty seconds!"
Before anyone could respond — the figure spun again. Two more players caught. Two more red splatters. Two more security shadows.
---
"One — two — three —"
Linray reached out and touched the wooden figure's shoulder.
*Done.*
Dex was ten meters back. Close — but not close enough for safety. Not for a normal approach.
The kid didn't slow down.
"— red li—"
Dex dove. Full sprint, full commitment, launching his body forward in a desperate lunge to touch the figure before it turned.
His fingers grazed the wood a fraction of a second before the head snapped around.
*Insane. But it worked.*
Linray looked at the kid, now sprawled on the ground, panting, grinning like a maniac.
"You like gambling, huh." Linray's voice was flat. "You know what happens if that doesn't work?"
"Next game — don't do that. Or better yet, quit while you're ahead."
Dex stood up, brushed himself off. "Don't worry about me. The final prize is MINE. I'm not stopping."
"You don't know what's coming next." Linray's tone hardened. "If you really care about that girl waiting outside — you quit at the next round."
Dex stared at him. Said nothing. But he didn't nod either.
*Stubborn kid.* Linray turned away. *Can't save someone who doesn't want to be saved.*
---
While they talked, another player got eliminated. The remaining contestants were all within ten meters of the figure. Fifty seconds left on the clock — but realistically, Harlan had calculated it right. Twenty seconds of actual movement time.
Ten meters in twenty seconds. Should be plenty.
But nerves do funny things. People make mistakes when the clock is loudest.
Two more eliminated. Three more touched the figure at almost the same time.
Three players left on the field. Harlan was one of them — the furthest back, but the calmest.
*Come on, glasses. You got this.*