A bright white light stretched endlessly across the hall—a vast chamber so pristine it almost hurt the eyes. The floor gleamed like polished ice, and the ceiling shimmered with an artificial glow. Within this sterile, surreal setting, 7,898 people lay unconscious, their bodies neatly spaced apart like lifeless mannequins.
They all wore the same white, minimalistic uniforms, though a bold black number was printed on each chest—unique to every individual. No names. No identity. Just numbers.
But the silence didn't last long.
One by one, people began to stir.
Among the first to awaken was a young man with sharp features and stormy eyes. He sat up slowly, his gaze scanning the others groggily as he yawned.
Vayunesh Athisay.
(For the dear readers who might've forgotten—yes, this is the protagonist. The one we saw briefly back in Chapter 1 to 3 and then never again, thanks to twenty full chapters of lore, chaos, and worldbuilding. He's finally back.)
Nearby, others began to rise as well—faces familiar and unfamiliar. Survivors from earlier encounters. Individuals plucked from across cities, continents, and backgrounds. Some of them had appeared before between Chapters 1 and 12, each with their own brief introduction.
There was:
Darian Wolfe
Gyumin Rakchan
Areumseo Jihyeon
Ryota Yamadera
Liang Zhenyu
Laras Widyasari
Kinanti Jayasari... or was it Widyasari?( Her surname, as always, held a mystery—one to be explored later.)
Waru Denholm
Zelika Amare
Tengis Altanchuluun
And many, many more.
As the murmurs grew louder, a voice finally broke the tension.
"Why am I here?"
The words were cold and precise—Darian Wolfe. His tone immediately drew the attention of his own gang members, scattered throughout the hall. They pushed through the crowd toward him, regrouping like wolves sensing their alpha.
But something felt off. Everyone noticed it.
Around each person's neck was a sleek black collar, unassuming at first glance but humming faintly with embedded circuitry. A few people tried to shout—perhaps in panic, or to call out a friend.
They couldn't.
The moment they tried to raise their voices, the collar would surge with an invisible force—a sharp, constricting sensation that crawled through their neck and jaw, silencing them instantly. The sensation wasn't exactly pain, but it was unnatural and terrifying.
Even speaking at a normal volume triggered a warning pulse.
"What the hell is this?" someone whispered, clutching at the collar.
Fear. Confusion. Paranoia. The atmosphere in the hall shifted quickly from dazed curiosity to anxious dread.
No one knew where they were.
No one knew why they were here.
But they all understood one thing—they weren't in control anymore.