Present-day Pakistan, including Karachi, Lahore, and a secret island, serves as the setting for this psychological drama/thriller. Themes: Human desperation, morality, survival, and the illusion of freedom
Part I: The Invitation
Chapter 1: Envelope
Location: Karachi, Pakistan
Mira. In Karachi, Mira works two jobs and is heavily indebted. gets an odd envelope that has no sender on it. "Six games," the invitation states. One victor. Get ₯100 crore. "Do you want a second chance?" is the only question she is asked when she phones the number. She agrees to join at the end.
"Hope doesn't appear overnight. Silently, it arrives in an envelope with no return address.
Rain drummed against the Karachi apartment's broken windows, seeping a little onto the poor carpet's border. After working another double shift at the clothing factory, Mira sat cross-legged on the floor with a sore back. The only source of warmth in her life was her 7-year-old son, Daniyal, who was sleeping in the adjacent room after two days without power. It was past due for the rent. And a man from the loan office had stated, "We don't want money anymore," with a razor-sharp smile that morning. We'll take what you adore the next time.
The envelope had been slipped beneath her door sometime between her breakdown and her shower, so she nearly missed it at first. Not a stamp. No address for return. It only has her name, "Mira Akhtar," written in clear, flawless Urdu. One card in there. Black and thick. Three shapes—a square, triangle, and circle—are embossed on it. A message on the back "You've been chosen for an opportunity that could change your life. Six matches. One victor. One hundred crore rupees. If you're prepared to get started, dial the number below. She kept looking at it, anticipating the punchline. Was this a joke? A sick marketing ploy, perhaps? Then the man's smile came back to her. the expression on his face.After entering the kitchen, she picked up her inexpensive Nokia phone, which had no SIM card remaining, yet this number started with an international code. It might therefore be toll-free. She paused. She kept her thumb over the dial. "It's not real." "What if it isn't?" "There is nothing left for you." She hit the Call button. Once, the phone rang. Twice. Then a phone was picked up. A voice. mechanical. chilly. without a gender. Akhtar Mira. 31 years old. a Liaquat Colony resident. Daniyal Akhtar's mother. 2,550,000 rupees in debt. Verify?" She stopped. Her lips became parched. "Yes," she muttered. "Do you want a second chance at life?" Not a word. There's thunder outside. Her hand shook. "Yes." "We'll come get you tomorrow evening. Come by yourself. Don't bring anything. Click. The queue died.
She didn't sleep that night. She wondered if she had just sold her soul to something invisible when she heard her son's gentle breathing in the darkness. However, on the other hand... What was left for her to sell?
[Chapter 1 End]
Chapter 2: The Others
Location: Rawalpindi, Lahore, and Karachi
Introduction of the Main Characters: Faizan: A former fighter with dashed hopes. Sana: A medical student in her final year who was involved in a scholarship scam. Bilal: A slick talker who hides from thugs and police. The same enigmatic invitation is sent to everyone.
Everyone who gets into the game believes they are the only one. Not one of them is.
The Broken Fighter (Karachi), Faizan The throng did not cheer when the bell rang. Illegal basement fights were characterised by smoke, darkness, and blood rather than crowds. Using the back of his glove to wipe his injured lip, Faizan staggered back into the corner of the makeshift ring. Younger and under the influence of something, his opponent smirked and gestured for him to approach. Faizan was simply worn out, not elderly. In his joints, thirty-six felt like sixty. He had trouble opening his left eye. He could still clearly recall his most recent professional bout, which took place five years ago, in which he was suspended by the federation for hitting a referee who made fun of his accent.
He now struggled in vain. A few thousand rupees would cover a bottle of water and the rent in Orangi Town. The on-site physician hardly gave him a glance when he finally passed out. However, before disappearing, a man wearing a grey shalwar kameez gave him an envelope. It was dark. Not a stamp. The triangle, square, and circle are the three shapes in the corner. Within: "Six games. One victor. 100 crore rupees is the prize. "If you want one final battle worth winning, dial the number." Faizan grinned. One hundred crores? It had been days since he had seen a hundred bills. He gazed at the digit. He then made a call
Sana, Lahore's Silent Topper Sana has always followed the rules. at the top of her class. A gold medallist. If her final semester hadn't been cancelled because of a fake scholarship scandal that she didn't even start, she would have been the first person in her family to become a doctor. Wearing her white coat like a lie, she was now sitting outside a clinic, watching patients enter while remaining outside. To cover her tuition, her parents had taken out a mortgage on their house. Her brother had borrowed money that he was unable to pay back. Her appeal was denied by the institution. Since she was a "cheater," she was not given another chance.
Until the envelope came. Nobody saw who left it on her hostel bed. "Six games. One victor. A fresh start. Hours passed while she gazed at it. Physicians save lives. But what if her own life was the only one she could rescue right now?
Rawalpindi's Bilal, The Charming Liar Bilal was aware of when to flee. He'd run from the police. from irate customers. from the lady he had vowed to wed. from himself. He lost everyone's money when the stock swindle fell apart, and he took what little money remained and vanished. He smiled when he read the mail, now sleeping under a false identity in a modest hostel. A chance to make a new beginning. " "You're a good liar. Let's see your performance. The phone just rung once. His name was not asked by the voice. Only this: "You think you're more intelligent than everybody else. Are you prepared to demonstrate it? "Always," answered Bilal with a smile.
The Coming Storm Like a virus, the same envelopes spread throughout Pakistan, from the dusty alleys of Lyari to the dashed hopes of Multan. All of them made their way to the needy. The ruin. the forgotten. And they all dialled the number, one by one. And they all said "yes," one by one.
[Chapter 2 End]
Chapter 3: The Vanishing
Location: outskirts of Karachi, defunct military installation
After being blindfolded, the volunteers are collected in black vans. They awaken in a massive bunker with ID numbers and colourful clothing. surrounded by armed, masked guards with no means of escape. The massive digital board displays: "456 Players." The game starts tomorrow.
There was no internal lock on the door. It didn't have to. Nobody ever returned.
The Pick-Up There were no street battles or honking, only an odd stillness that seemed heavier than silence, and the night was unusually peaceful in Karachi. Holding her shawl securely, Mira stood outside her building. Not even her sister had been informed. For how long was Daniyal safe with a neighbour she could trust?
Before her, a black van rounded a bend and came to a stop. No license plate. A man emerged wearing a crimson jumpsuit. A black mask with a square emblem on it fully obscured his face. "Name?" he enquired bluntly. "Mira." He gave one nod. He then produced a tiny silver casing. Gas. fragrant. Quick. Everything turned dark.
Others Vanish The identical scene was repeated across the nation. On his way back from a fight club, Faizan was taken up. On her way to a study centre, Sana was taken. Bilal smiled as he entered the van without even flinching. They were all rendered unconscious by gassing. Without a trace, each one vanished from the globe.
The Coming of Age Mira awoke gradually. She wasn't in her local area. Karachi was not where she was. Painfully white was the colour of the room. Across a huge hall that resembled a warehouse, hundreds of bunks were arranged wall to wall. A player was lying on each bed; they were all dressed in the same green uniform, which consisted of a jacket with a number printed on it.
#067, Mira glanced down. Sana, the girl on her right, was already conscious. An older man was snoring to her left. Faizan was seated on his bed across from her, blinking rapidly. Bilal was also close by, already looking about curiously, like he was at a casino. There were cameras all around the lofty ceiling. Silently patrolling were armed guards wearing black masks and red uniforms, each with a square, triangle, or circle on their face.
On one wall, a big digital screen sprang to life. "Welcome, Participants." "Total Players: 456." "Rules will be explained shortly." Shocks. yells. Some hurried to the door. It refused to move. Others yelled. demanded responses. Mira did not move. She wasn't shocked. Long ago, she had given up on expecting kindness.
No Leave There was a loud bang. A player attempted to assault a guard. The guard raised his rifle – and fired without hesitation. The player died. There was a dreadful silence. Then a quiet, deep voice emerged from concealed speakers. "This is a place of second chances." "Those who follow the rules may win freedom." "Those who disobey… will be eliminated." They slammed the doors. The players were confined. The game itself, not just the space.
[Chapter 3 End]
PART II: STARTING THE GAMES
Chapter 4: Red River
Location: Game Hall 1, Secret Island Facility
Red River (Red Light, Green Light style) is the first game. Players move across a field while being scanned by a giant robotic doll. After "Red Light" is uttered, anyone who moves is immediately shot. Panic. More than 200 people die in the first game. They now realise this is true, and shock and fear spread.
"The first lesson of the game: Don't mistake nostalgia for mercy."
The March A high-pitched buzzer woke the guys up the following morning. No timepiece. No sun. It was only a man-made light that seemed like midnight yet burnt like noon. Guards came in, silent. pointed to the doors. They followed even though no one knew where they were going. What more were they able to do? The players were led down a tunnel painted in vibrant pastel hues, past security cameras, and along cramped hallways. It appeared... immature. A happy lie. The troop stepped into a huge, man-made arena. With its enormous flowers, cartoon clouds, and park-like green surface, it appeared to be a playground. A huge mechanical doll of a pigtail-wearing girl with her back to them stood at the far end. The screen on the wall flashed.
"RED RIVER: GAME 1" Rule: Before time runs out, cross the queue. When the doll spins around, stop. You will be eliminated if you move during "Red Light." Uneasy giggles. 'Red Light, Green Light', perhaps? There was a whisper. "Is this a joke?" The voice then came back. Be calm. chilly. "The game starts at three." "2..." "1."
Green Light The doll had a red glow in her eyes. Its head, which was mechanical, turned towards the wall. "Green Light." There was music. Happy. The gamers advanced, initially strolling idly while laughing at the ridiculousness. "Red Light." The music ceased. The head of the doll jerked. One player stumbled, shifted, and attempted to regain his equilibrium. BANG. A severing crack. The sniper rifle's sound. A red bloom grew across the man's chest as he fell. yells. Anarchy. People stopped. Another girl winced and shuddered. BANG. She also fell.
Panic Panic burst into flames. Players screamed for assistance as they ran in all directions, including towards the guards and the exit. Additional shots. dozens. The blood saturated the floor. Mira knelt down, her heart pounding and her eyes wide. Behind her, Sana was paralysed with fear. Grabbing a younger boy, Faizan said, "Only move on green! Come with me! Bilal stayed put. He observed, taking note of the doll, the time, and the patterns. Once more, the voice spoke. "There are two minutes left." They would also be "eliminated" if they failed to cross the queue in time.
Survivors Mira concentrated. Inhale deeply. One step at a time. "Green Light." She shifted. "Red Light." Give up. A gunshot. Behind her, someone fell. She didn't look. She simply continued. Just one motion. Just one breath. Beat by beat Dozens of players ran for the finish line in the last ten seconds. A few succeeded. They shot others in the back. Only 201 out of 456 had survived when the buzzer sounded. In the fake grass, the others lay lifeless.
The aftermath The survivors stood trembling, sweating profusely, their eyes wide with fear. Mira glanced around and noticed that both Sana and Faizan were still alive. Bilal winked casually, as if he had just finished a test. Once more, the screen flickered. "First Game Completed." "255 Removed." "pool of prizes: Rs 25,50,00,000" (50 lakh, 25 crore) The last horror was that. The reward money rose as a result of the deaths. Unseen figures clinked their wine glasses and made fresh wagers someplace above, behind mirrored glass.
[Chapter 4 End]
Chapter 5: The Vote
Location: Main Hall, Player Dormitory
There is a panic following Game 1. Players are informed that a majority vote is required to end the game. Voting takes place. Mira decides to go. 228 people voted in favour of continuing. 228 wish to depart. A silent elderly man casts the final ballot, selecting "continue." The game goes on.
Even democracy is a gamble when you're desperate.
The Quiet Room The remaining 201 players were escorted back into the dorm following the Red River slaughter. Nobody said anything. Nobody let out a cry. They merely gazed. The names and numbers of those who were no longer there were still smeared on the bunks. There was a vomit in the corner. Sana's hands were still shaking as she sat still on her bed. Faizan's face was bloated with anger as he leaned against the wall. The name of her kid was playing in her head like a prayer as Mira sat with her knees to her chest. As Bilal watched the terror like a circus goer, he sat with his legs crossed and ate a protein bar from the ration pack. Next came the crackling of the loudspeaker. The game is optional, as stated. You are free to terminate it. People turned. There was a murmur.
The Guidelines Above them, a screen came to life. With a scroll in hand, a masked guard with a square sign on his mask advanced. He read out loud: "Clause 3: If the majority votes to terminate, the game may end." In the middle of the hall, the guard indicated a big metal vault. Slowly, it opened. Inside is a clear sphere filled with cash, with piles of cash cascading from the top like a waterfall. "The prize pool as of right now is 25 crore and 50 lakh rupees." Shocks. The eyes grew wide. Every damaged soul has dreams, even if they were fleeting. Next: However, the money will be given back to the organisers after the game is over. Nobody prevails.
Voting Starts The players were called to the front one by one. They each received a button. 🔢 Green: Proceed. 🔴 Red: Stop the game. Faizan took the lead. The red button was hammered. He snarled, "I didn't come here to die for your amusement." With terrified eyes, Sana also cast a red vote. Mira paused. but also went for red. Others, however, came after. "I'd rather die here than out there," said an elderly man who voted green. A young woman said in a whisper, "What can I find out there? Cancer and a factory job? Green. Green. Red. On the screen, the numbers wavered. The votes were getting closer.
The Final Touch As Player #100 took the field, the score was as follows: Red: 100 Green: 100 There is still one vote to cast. Player #001, an elderly guy, was the last player. Since arrival, he had hardly talked. All stared in silence as he hobbled along. He gave a soft smile. He then hit the "green" button. Final Vote: Proceed: 101 Finish: 100 The vault closed with a slam. Gasps replaced the cheers. There would be no way out. The game would go on.
The Performers The shadows of masked VIPs watched the voting on monitors in a dark control room far above. One of them chuckled. "Despair can be predicted. Hope simply keeps them going. Another said, taking a sip from a gold glass: "Let's start the next game."
[Chapter 5 End]
Chapter 6: No One Is Safe
Balance the Line in Game Two Gamers have to traverse slender metal or glass beams that hang over a pit. Some people band together to help one another. To survive, some push others away. Mira is saved by Sana. Bilal pretends to be hurt in order to control someone.
You shouldn't be afraid of the guards. It's the people you sleep next to.
New Guidelines The dorm felt different the following day. Nobody chuckled. Nobody questioned. Nobody had any hope. There were only 201 people left in the room, and the silence was more depressing than the gunfire. Mira hadn't slept. From the bunk, her back hurt. Her heart hurt more, though
a knot of anxiety, remorse, and worse:
suspicion. Faizan tried to get rid of his nerves by performing pushups while standing close to the wall. Sana scribbled numbers and patterns from yesterday's doll game into the corner of her bedsheet while keeping to herself. Bilal sat with his eyes as keen as a wolf in a butcher shop, watching two players quarrel. The screen then came back to life. "Get ready for Game 2." The guards came in. Weapons ready. Knowing that it would be worse this time, the players queued up.
"Balance the Line" in Game Hall. They were escorted inside yet another massive arena. This one lacked clouds and vibrant colours. There was only darkness and a single, long, narrow steel beam roadway hanging over a pitch-black abyss. A red line that glows at the distant end. The end. "Balance the Line: Game 2." "Stay positive. Drop — and get wiped out. You are free to move in any order. Ten minutes is the time restriction. Harnesses were absent. Not a rope. Just your will to live and your equilibrium.
Anarchy in Progress The first few participants stretched their arms like tightrope walkers and went carefully, step by step. A few managed to get through. Others yelled, slipped, trembled, and vanished into the emptiness below. The guards didn't even bat an eye. Before calling back to Mira and Sana, Faizan offered to go first for his group, testing the steel with his weight. "It holds," he said. You simply need to have more faith in your own abilities than in your fears. Mira followed, nodding. Sana paused. When someone else attempted to jump around her and failed, that indecision cost them their life.
The Betrayal Begins In the midst of a dispute between two older players over who should go next, Bilal grinned and muttered, "You know… if he 'accidentally' slips… your chances improve." One man turned in rage, the other shoved him, a body fell, and screams rang out, but no guard moved. Bilal continued to smile. The game wasn't just risky; it promoted treachery.
The Fall Mid-step, a female in front of me panicked. She locked her legs. She was immobile. Behind her, Mira tried to reassure her, saying, "Just breathe." One step— A tall man suddenly pushed past them both. "Go or perish." The young lady slipped. Drop. Mira just managed to catch herself. The man didn't turn around.
Survivors The final buzzer sounded after ten exhausting minutes, and 142 players crossed, while 59 were eliminated. Another queue of names would be removed from the dorm, but something more profound had occurred. Everyone's perspective had changed; no one was simply a player any longer; they were all potential killers. Even worse Targets
[End of Chapter 6].
,
Chapter 7: Alliances
Location: Day 3 Player Dormitory
A covert alliance is formed by Mira, Sana, and Faizan. Bilal manipulates lesser players by forming a fictitious partnership with them. Each player's backstory is revealed; they all have sinister secrets to conceal.
When treachery is rewarded, friendship turns into rebellion.
A Rise in Tensions The remaining 142 players went back to the dorm after the gruelling beam game. The air was charged with anxiety rather than energy. Nobody was trusted any more. One eye was open while they slept. To sense movement at night, some even fastened their bed linens to their fellow bunkers. We must speak," he stated. "We can't do it alone if we want to succeed." Mira paused. The man who pushed the girl off the beam was in her memory. She could still hear the girl's scream. She did, however, nod. "Agreed." After wiping the perspiration from his face, Faizan took a seat next to Mira and Sana.
The Agreement They murmured rapidly in the far corner: Faizan, who is strong, dependable, and physically healthy, would be the protector. Sana was the analytical, watchful, and perceptive thinker. Mira was steady, sympathetic, and composed under duress. "We don't tell each other lies," Mira remarked. Sana went on, "And we don't push each other." With a weary smile, Faizan said. "Although we're the last ones?" Not a word. Mira then added, "Especially then." Their fists collided. They formed an alliance.
The Other Type of Partnership Bilal had already assembled his own gang across the dorm. Three younger men, all desperate and afraid, searching for a follower. Bilal required tools, not allegiance. He assured them of "secret advantages" and "insider information." He said, "You'll make it to the final if you stick with me." They took him seriously. They did, of course. A man who believes his own lies is the best liar.
Observing the Observers Sana saw something odd that night: a tiny red light that was blinking behind one of the walls, which she realised was a hidden camera. "They're watching us even now," she said in a whisper to Mira as she leaned closer. similar like rats in a maze. Mira murmured back, "Then we must stop behaving like rats." "We play clever." Faizan gave a nod. "We play like human beings."
Rebellion Seeds That evening, two players got into a brawl over bread that had been taken from the ration box. A spoon that had been sharpened into a weapon was used to stab one of them. The guards didn't get involved. They got up. They observed. The lights flickered when the player perished. The screen displayed a notice that said: "Player #178 has been removed. A 25 lakh rupee boost was made to the prize pool. There was silence in the room. The message was unambiguous: Even murder is profitable.
Sana's Epiphany Later, when there was silence in the dorm, Sana said something that made Faizan and Mira sit up straight. She said, "They're not just testing survival." "They are putting morals to the test." "What do you mean?" Mira enquired. "What it takes for people to lose their humanity is what they want to see." She surveyed the space. "And even if it's the riskiest thing to do, who will hold onto it?"
[Chapter 7 End]
Chapter 8: The Midnight Rule
Location: Player Dormitory, Third Night
"Players may now eliminate each other at night," adds a new twist. While they sleep, some gamers murder other people. Mira is protected by Faizan. The sleeping hall becomes the scene of a minor conflict.
To kill someone, you don't need a weapon. Give them a reason, please.
The lights go out The players lay down quietly after dinner, which consisted of two pieces of roti and a thin bowl of daal. The dorm was dark, with only the faint glow of emergency lights along the walls. The loudspeaker came alive with a crackling. "Look out, players. There is now a new regulation in place. "It is acceptable to eliminate at night." "Actions taken during lights-out will not have any repercussions." "Survivors will make progress. The reward pool will grow as more participants pass away. The lights went off. And there was complete silence in the dorm. For a complete minute. The first scream followed
Initial Attack Something about being attacked was shouted by a man in the far left corner. Then a bedpost clattered against metal. Then there was more yelling. Then there was the distinct sound of a blow against flesh. Outside, just past the reinforced glass, a guard was standing and observing. Not moving. The message was unambiguous: The game included this.
Fear Spreads Mira quickly sat up. She yelled, "Get down!" and dragged Sana under her bunk. Faizan had two sideways-flipped beds blocking the aisle next to their corner. "We must find cover!" Footsteps rushed past in the darkness. Someone called out for assistance. Another yelled a name, but it was swiftly cut off. No one was playing anymore. They were predators. or prey
Alliance Accused Mira firmly grasped Sana's hand. "We must not allow fear to break us." Faizan held a sharpened spoon and pressed his back against theirs. "Tonight, we make it through." That is the only thing that counts. Abruptly, a man rushed in their direction. Just in time, Faizan stopped his lunge. It was a female. Terrified and bloodied. "Please," she said in a whisper. "Avoid killing me." She was drawn into their blockade by Mira. "Remain motionless. Remain silent. The mayhem roared beyond their nook. For hours, there were screams, moans, and vicious thuds.
Bilal's Action Bilal refrained from fighting. He muttered. assured security. He promised people a "secret alliance"; after they relaxed, he had someone else handle the grunt labour. His group consisted of three players who killed for him. Bilal hadn't moved by the time the lights came back. Near his bed, however, were four bodies.
Death and Light The lights came on at morning. The dorm appeared to be a battlefield. beds that are broken. traces of blood. Faces in shock. The screen was updated: "Midnight Losses: 27 Players Removed." "28 crore, 20 lakh rupees is the new prize pool." Nobody applauded. Not even Bilal. Since nobody had really made it through the night.
The Cost Sana gazed at the wall in blankness. A hand was placed on her shoulder by Mira. She added quietly, "We're still alive." Sana took a while to reply. "But how much of us is left?" she muttered. Sitting close by, Faizan was honing a pipe that he had broken off a bunk. He didn't say anything. Since he was aware that the actual games had not yet begun.
[Chapter 8 End]
Chapter 9: The VIPs
Location: Surveillance Control Room, VIP Observation Lounge
The game is attended by wealthy, masked spectators. It turns out that "The Final Round" is a private reality program for billionaires. Like racehorses, players are being gambled on without their knowledge.
Poverty was not the game's birthplace. It began as a result of boredom.
The First One: Behind the Mirror The players would never see the chamber located far above the dorms, behind the biometric scanners and layers of security doors. A place filled with cigar smoke and gold light. velvet drapes. Wine in crystal glasses that were older than the majority of the competitors. Additionally, the attendees wore intricate, hideous masks in the shape of animals. The VIPs were them. those who provided the game's funding. those who witnessed it. Those who wager on human lives as if they were horse races.
Visitors Show Up Today, six VIPs who had been brought in from all around the world were present: A lion-masked oil magnate from the Middle East. A tiger-masked Chinese tech investor. Wearing a peacock mask, a British aristocracy drank brandy like it was blood. At every death playback, a Russian armaments dealer wearing a boar mask bursts out laughing. A crane-masked South Korean banker taking notes in silence. The youngest and most deadly of them all is a Pakistani businessman wearing a jackal mask.
Everybody had a favourite competitor. Money depended on everyone of them surviving. The man wearing the Jackal mask stared at Mira's picture and stated, "Number 067." She is composed. calculated. I enjoy her. The others laughed. The person wearing the lion mask said, "I wager on the boxer." "He's designed to win." The mask of a boar snorted. "Please. The true player is the con artist. 199. He will kill to win without ever getting his hands dirty, so watch him.
Investment and Entertainment Every room was watched upon by a huge surveillance control centre beneath the lounge. Every player had a separate feed from their camera. They recorded their voices. Movements were monitored. Psychological information is recorded. Nothing was left up to chance. It wasn't merely a game. A network of elites watched the live performance on a private server. only by invitation. What about the reward money? a small percentage of the funds that are exchanged in underground betting pools. Every player's choice—every death—was earning millions of dollars.
The Host The rear door swung open. A figure with a polished black suit and a sleek silver mask covering its face entered. the host. the game's operator. "I hope you're all having a good time." With a controlled voice, the host asked. The visitors gave a nod. Let me then greet you at the halfway point. A glass was raised by the host. To the point of desperation, they claimed. To the last round, the VIPs lifted their glasses back.
Mira sat quietly in the dormitory below, observing the others as they pretended to be asleep. With her head resting on a folded shirt, Sana cuddled up next to her. With his weapon in hand, Faizan resumed his patrol. Bilal and his "loyalists" chuckled silently in the corner. Nobody was aware of every gesture, word, and idea they conveyed. was already amusement for a higher authority.
[Chapter 9 End]
PART IV – THE DEEPER GAME
Chapter 10: Strings Attached
Event location: Trust Arena's Game Hall 3
Puppet Strings in Game Three The opposing player has to lead the blindfolded player through a perilous obstacle course. Faizan and Mira are paired. Bilal deceives his partner, which ultimately results in their demise. Mira and Faizan develop a bond.
Occasionally, the person who is holding your hand is the one who is leading you into danger.
Form a Pair The buzzer went off. All remaining players — 115 now — were congregated in the main corridor. One of the guards moved forward and declared: "We'll be playing this game in pairs today." "In the next five minutes, choose your partner." "Those who don't have a partner will be removed.
Scrambling panic
Desperation.
Selecting Faith As soon as their eyes met, Mira and Sana moved in tandem. Faizan paused, but Irfan, a quiet player who had assisted in dressing a wound the previous evening, soon joined him. Of course, Bilal waited and looked for the weakest point. Nearly 19, a bashful boy, was approached by him. thin. I'm scared. Wishful. Bilal put a strong hand on his shoulder and replied,
Stick with me You're in my grasp.
The boy eagerly nodded.
The Start of the Game They were escorted into a brand-new hallway with winding walkways that wound around a spike pit. rope bridges. platforms. No guardrails. Players were blindfolded and cord-tied to their partners on one half of the hall. The following rule appeared on the screen: "Strings Attached: Game 3." "One observes. One goes on a walk. "The blindfolded partner must be guided across by the seeing partner." "Both are eliminated if the blindfolded partner falls.
15 minutes is the timer. The cords were fastened using clips. They tightened the blindfolds. The countdown then started.
A Trusting Bond Between Mira and Sana Sana led. Mira took a step. "Come forward three paces," Sana murmured. Then a little to the right. A dip is present. Mira took her time. Other players yelled, stumbled, and cursed behind them. One pair fell off. Not even enough time for them to adequately scream.
The game is over. Sana's voice did not waver. "You're doing fantastic," she remarked. "Just maintain your equilibrium." Mira had perspiration on her hands. Her knees trembled. However, she paid attention. one step at a time. Like one heartbeat, they moved in unison.
The Betrayal of Bilal With assurance, Bilal guided the boy to the brink of a collapsed bridge. "Come forward now," he remarked coolly. The boy muttered, "Are you sure?" "I'm positive." The boy took a step. No platform was available. As he fell, his cry reverberated. The cord tightened, then broke. Bilal did not move. He was unharmed. The regulations just stated that they might die, not that they would. The child had done his job. Bilal reported a "rope malfunction," turned, and walked calmly back. Nobody asked him any questions.
The Sacrifice of Faizan Halfway through, Irfan, Faizan's companion, started to lose it. He trembled. He sobbed. He stopped. Faizan spoke to him as though he were a coach in a ring. Only my voice. You trust me?" "Yes." Then do as instructed. I will not allow you to fail. They made it somehow. However, Faizan's shirt was covered in blood and perspiration. While attempting to protect Irfan from a swinging trap, he had sustained a spike wound on his leg. He didn't mention anything at all
The Last Count There were just 81 players left when the timer went off. 34 were no longer there. a few from slips. Some due to misdirection. a few from treachery. After the game, Mira and Sana sat together, breathless and hands shaking. "You came to my rescue," Mira muttered. "No," Sana said, her eyes gentle You had faith in me.
[Chapter 10 End]
Chapter 11: Secrets
Location: Archive Room/Lower Level Corridor
Sana discovers a file room containing information about previous games. finds out that a former winner is now in charge of the game as a VIP. She begins to suspect that Bilal is conspiring with the organisers.
Since the truth is hazardous, it is not concealed. Because once you know it's useless, it's concealed.
An Invisible Flicker Most of the players were either sleeping or acting like they were that night, but Sana was unable to get any sleep. She thought about the cameras all the time. The guardians. The deliberate brutality of every game. She caught sight of a guard going through a concealed panel door beneath the dormitory platform. She moved after the guard left. Silently. Fast. Mira didn't stop her even though she spotted her. She recognised that expression. A mentality that demands explanations.
The Room of Archives The door opened onto a chilly, dark stairway. There was a closed room at the bottom of the steps. However, Sana was well aware that even highly developed systems were fallible human beings. She activated the locking mechanism with a stray cable from her bunk. She needed five minutes. The door then opened with a click. She entered a room with boxes in it. files. outdated monitors. reels of tape. A heavy dust cover. similar to a forgotten area of Hell
The Fallen's Files She took a folder out. Season Two. Then another. Season Three. Player photos. names. medical records. debts. reports from psychology. results of the game. She flipped through more quickly. dozens of seasons. dozens of winners. Apart from... There was only one name repeated.
The VIP Turnabout She discovered a picture. It was ancient. hazy. However, she knew who he was. The jackal-masked one. The VIP who placed the wager on Mira. The document stated: "Player #045: Season 4 Winner." "Selected and recruited as a VIP." Sana's hands became icy. The victor was not given a free pass. The winner became a part of the system. They joined the game. What about the reward money? A bribe. Not liberty. Not a word.
The Video She discovered an outdated CCTV tape linked to a monitor in a corner. She sped through hours of video, seeing more deaths and more players. Then she halted. An awful image was displayed in a clip: A previous winner declining to become a VIP. They were led out of the picture. Then there was a shot. The tape ended. Sana was shaking as she sat in the chair. There were no true winners in the game. Only those who survived turned into predators.
Mira Tracks Her Down Concerned, Mira located the open stairs and followed it. Sana was sitting quietly when she arrived at the archive. She was surrounded by the papers. With sunken eyes, Sana looked up. "There's no escape," she declared. "We lose even if we win." "Unless we put an end to it from within." Mira assisted her in standing up. After that, we'll figure out how to burn it down
[Chapter 11 end]
Chapter 12: Numbers Game
Location: The Number Grid Arena in Game Hall 4
Game 4: Number Puzzle One hundred numbers on a wall. Each player is required to select a single number. Of those, only ten are "safe." The others set out traps. Faizan almost makes it out alive. Sana starts to lose her mind.
When the mind realises that the odds were never fair, it breaks more quickly than the body.
The Grid Comes Alive The remaining eighty-one participants were led into the next gaming hall, which was different from the others. It was a massive black floor, as smooth as glass, with 100 square tiles arranged in a numbered 10x10 grid. In no specific order, bright numbers ranging from 1 to 100 illuminated each tile. A huge screen above the grid showed the name of the game for today: Rule for "GAME 4: Numbers Game": "Press a secure number and continue. You will be eliminated if you step on a trap number. Make an informed decision. You just make one error. Everyone gaped in disbelief. Bilal grinned. Mira muttered, "This isn't a coincidence. It's deception.
The Option The game was explained by the guards: Every player has to select five numbers. You can't repeat numbers. The player must cross the path when it has been selected and illuminated. The tile crumbles and the player falls if any number is a trap. No clues. No trends. Fear and numbers only. Sana whispered, "There must be some reasoning. Logic is always present. However, the guards started hurling insults. Then the deaths started.
The Initial Decline The first player took the pitch. He decided: 17, 39, 56, 72, and 84. The third tile was reached by him. Then it turned crimson. The floor buckled. Screaming, he collapsed. There was silence in the room. It was more than just a riddle. Russian roulette was the game.
Sana's Approach Sana got to work taking notes. "The prime numbers are more secure. They have not yet been caught in any traps. She saw that 13, 29, and 59 had previously worked. Mira selected her five after nodding: 11, 23, 31, 47, 61. One by one, the lights blinked green. She made it safely. Sana's reasoning made sense, so she followed with her own figures. Two additional survivors
Faizan's Disintegration Then Faizan took over. He paused. His hands trembled. Like a warrior gazing into the crowd before a last round, he turned to face them. Then he said in a whisper: "19... 36... 44... 68... 88." The lights flickered. Green is the first tile. Green comes in second. Red comes in third. The ground shook under him. He grabbed the side railing and pulled himself up just in time. The guards brought their guns up. However, the speaker carried the Host's voice: Survival instinctively. All right. Let him go on. Breathing heavily, Faizan sat on the side. A crack had appeared inside him. He didn't give anyone a look. Not even Mira.
Bilal's Bet Bilal was the last to move ahead. He made the confident decision: 6, 12, 30, 66, 100. He completed all five; not a single tile was missed. Individuals muttered. "How did he accomplish that?" He grinned. However, the truth was only known by the VIPs and security above: The safe sequence has already been given to Bilal. because he had stopped being fair. He participated in the game.
Repercussions Just fifty-nine participants made it through the Numbers Game. Within minutes, more than 20 were gone.
Later, Mira sat next to Faizan, tending to a gash on his arm. "Are you okay?" she enquired. Faizan remained silent. "They want us to break," he muttered, gazing into the corner. She gave a nod. "But they overlooked something," she said quietly. "We were already. We are still here for that reason.
[Chapter 12 End]
PART V – THE ENDGAME
Chapter 13: Final Four
Location: The Glass Chamber in Game Hall 5
Bilal, Faizan, Sana, and Mira are still there. Game 5: An intellectual test. Gamers have to decide whether to kill to advance or sacrifice themselves to save someone. For Mira, Sana gives herself up. While rescuing Mira from Bilal, Faizan is stabbed.
Do you believe that the test is death? No. Determining who deserves to live is the true test.
It's only eight left The survivors hardly had time to recover from the Numbers Game. Guards called out names as they passed through the dorm that evening. There were only eight players called. Mira. Sana. Faizan. Bilal. And four others, faces that had remained silent, eyes that had become vacant, people they hardly recognised. They were escorted into a fresh, white, and sterilised room. No cameras. Avoid pitfalls. Nothing but quiet. as well as a screen.
The Fifth Match All that was shown on the screen was this: "The Burden: Game Five." Rules: We'll assign pairs. One needs to survive. One has to perish. "The survivor makes a decision." Shocks. A sob. Shouts. Mira glanced at Sana, but the soldiers distributed cards at random before they could exchange words. They designated partners. Sana and Mira. Bilal and Faizan. Two pairs of strangers. The door opened smoothly. They were then led to different rooms, one pair in each. They were each issued a weapon. Ten minutes to make a decision.
Sana & Mira — A Sister's Farewell With each breath, the white room reverberated. Between them, on a table, was the knife. Mira gazed at it. Next, at Sana. "No," she replied. "I refuse to do it." Sana grinned, a soft, melancholy smile. "You've got a son," she muttered. "You have a purpose in life." "I don't. No more. "No. Don't say that— Sana took a step forward, put Mira's hand on the knife, and encircled her with her arms. She declared, "I'm not dying because I gave up." "I believe in you, which is why I'm dying." Into her shoulder, Mira sobbed. However, as the buzzer went off... Mira was the only one to leave the room. Red eyes. Broken heart
The Last Blow with Faizan and Bilal Faizan stood quietly in the adjacent room as Bilal spoke. and conversed. We could pretend. Let's say one of us passed away. Deceive them. Faizan remained still. Bilal moved in closer. "Hey, dude, you have no relatives. You're a warrior. Everything is gone from you. What remains to— Break. He was punched by Faizan. Hard. Bilal fell to the ground, his mouth bleeding. Then Faizan grabbed the blade. and let it fall next to him.
I refuse to do this. Bilal, however, was grinning. Because there was a second knife concealed in his uniform. He made a lunge. They engaged in animal-like combat. Bilal ultimately stabbed Faizan in the side. Twice. Faizan gasped and fell. Panting, Bilal stood over him. Then muttered: "I would always prevail." He left. Even the guards noticed, though, as he stumbled and his hand trembled.
There Are Still Four Out of the chambers, only four players left. Bilal, Mira. Two more. The screen was updated: Four players remain; the prize pool is Rs 100 crore. Mira didn't care, though. Sana was gone. Faizan had also left. And retaliation was all that was left.
[Chapter 13 End]
Chapter 14: The Choice
Location: The Final Arena, Game Hall 6
Game 6: The Last Round Bilal and Mira were alone. Only one may survive, therefore you have to fight. Mira must decide whether to kill Bilal or go. Bilal launches the initial attack. She defends herself by killing him. She prevails.
Bloody victories are never truly free; they are simply a different form of jail.
The Last Four The surviving participants were led into a brand-new, unorthodox chamber. Not a machine. No gimmicks. Only a deserted outdoor arena with a black artificial sky. There are four chairs in the middle. A solitary, shining red button beneath glass may be seen in the distance. Above the screen: Rules for the "FINAL ROUND: The Choice" "The prize can only be taken by one player." "Everyone else needs to be removed." "You can either choose who dies or let other people pick you." Like dust, a silence fell. Nobody made a move. The guards then moved forward. Additionally, two players had head injuries. Clean. Instant. Suddenly, there were just Bilal and Mira left.
Mira versus Bilal The button lifted the glass cover. They were standing opposite one another. Mira: still standing, wounded, and battered. Bilal: icy, hobbling, his hungry eyes ablaze. They looked into each other's eyes. The voice repeated itself: You can leave. Both of you. However, only if you both decline the reward. One will die if the other presses the button. Whoever applies pressure will prevail. An impasse. An impasse.
The Final Discussion "You lied," Mira muttered. To all of you. Bilal gave a shrug. "That's how I got by." "Faizan had faith in you." "He was foolish." "Sana had a more positive belief." "It killed her." Slowly, they circled. "Are you aware of the reason they offered us an option?" Mira enquired. Bilal's head cocked. "Because we're both weak." Mira shook hers. "No. Because they're curious about if we're still human.
The Last Push Bilal made the initial lunge. I'm holding a knife. Like a man possessed, he charged. They wrestled, rolling in the mud with their fists flying while both of them screamed in anger, grief, and weariness as Mira sidestepped, grabbed his arm, and twisted. Then Mira gained the advantage. Above his chest, she gripped the knife. Shaking. Taking deep breaths. Bilal's eyes widened as he looked up. He hissed, "Do it." "You've made it this far." She gave a headshake. "I'm not like you." Then she stood up. went to the button on foot. and refrained from pressing.
The Choice The speaker declared, "The last move has been rejected by both players." A pause occurred. Next: "The default rule is to engage in physical combat until the end." The guards drew their firearms. Bilal chuckled. "In any case, you are dead." Once more, he hurried towards her. She didn't hesitate this time. Mira reached for the blade, twisted it, and stabbed him in the chest. One breath, he gasped. Blood on his shirt then fell. She had blood on her hands. Not a word.
The Victor The arena became bright. "Player 067, Mira Akhtar, won." "Rs 100 crore was the total prize awarded." A door opened. White light streamed in. Mira was standing there, wobbling, hollow, and broken. but still living. She moved forward a step. Then another.
[Chapter 14 End]
Chapter 15: The Exit
Location: Karachi — After a Week
The money has been used to clean up Mira. offered a future "VIP" role if she so chooses. She declines and takes the cash.
The game continues after you survive. The guilt is only getting started.
The Comeback Mira couldn't recall dozing off. She was wrapped in cosy blankets, her wounds bandaged, and she was in the rear seat of a fancy car when she regained up. Her phone was left with them. a fresh SIM card. A passport. and a debit card that is black. no driver. A simple dashboard note: You're at liberty. Congrats. In Karachi, beyond the tinted windows. The streets remain broken. That same sound. As though nothing had occurred. Mira had, however. She pulled the glovebox open. It contains a bank slip. Her name. 100,000,000.00 was deposited.
Home Is Different She returned home. Daniyal, bewildered, happy, and crying, rushed into her arms. The neighbours stared, believing she had passed away. She had gone "missing," according to the news. When she abruptly paid off her debts, purchased a home, and put her son in the top school, no one questioned her. However, nobody took note of her nighttime wall-staring. Or the way she secured each door. Or the way she woke up from red-soaked dreams
The Proposal A parcel showed up at her new home two weeks later. No address. No courier. A white box, that's all. There was a letter inside. "You did a good job playing." "You might be among us." "We extend a seat to you. a mask. A decision. And underneath it... A mask of silver. Shiny, smooth, and uncommunicative. similar to that of the host. She only needed to agree.
Temptation That night, she sat by herself and gazed at the mask. Unused and undisturbed, the money was sitting in the corner. Most of it had been provided by her. Create a fund for the families of the players. hired a person to look for contestants who went missing. Still, something felt off. She took the mask in her hands. pressed it on her face. It was chilly. strong. final. She then tossed it into the flames. and saw it burn.
The Trip Out Mira packed two bags. For her, one. For Daniyal, one. Before daybreak, they departed the city. Not a word. No trail. No farewell. She was aware that they would eventually search. She would, however, live in silence until then. Additionally, she teaches her kid that some games are inappropriate to play.
[Chapter 15 End]
PART VI – AFTERMATH
Chapter 16: The Real World
Location: Karachi, Islamabad, and Lahore (one month later)
Mira resumes her regular life, but nothing seems the same. PTSD, guilt, and nightmares. The money cannot be enjoyed by her. She attempts to assist victims' relatives in an anonymous manner.
The game doesn't leave you, even if you do.
Life Continues It had been a month. Unaware, the world continued to spin. Sindh had floods. Islamabad's political controversy. An online trending cricket match. The disappearance of 456 persons was unknown. The fact that only one had returned was unknown. In Lahore, Mira sat in a roadside café sipping tea while wearing sunglasses and a loosely wrapped scarf. Beside her, Daniyal played with a plastic car. She had become adept at moving through the world with the grace of a ghost. invisible. Be cautious. Awaiting. However, something always seemed... strange. She was followed by eyes. Twice, she discovered envelopes in unexpected locations, and Shadows moved when they shouldn't have. Nothing. empty. However, the forms were present 🔺 ⭕◼️.
Making an effort to tell She made one attempt to be honest. In Islamabad, she met a freelance journalist. youthful. courageous. Wondering. Before making her getaway, she gave him the data she had surreptitiously removed from the archive room. pictures. Death certificates. clips from games. He said he will look into it. After two days, he vanished. His blog was deleted. His phone hung up. Not a trace
The Other People It wasn't just her who saw ghosts. After her brother disappeared in Lahore, a woman started a compulsive quest. In Peshawar, a woman reported her son missing and received a warning to keep silent. Nobody paid attention. due to the fact that the game flawlessly eliminated its traces. No evidence. No survivors. Mira alone.
Increasing Guilt Every evening, Mira played it again: Sana's farewell. Faizan remained silent. Bilal grinned as he passed out. She was unable to forget. Even the prize money started to feel cursed, like a burden she was unable to bear. She continued to donate it to hospitals, orphanages, and random people. It did not, however, remove the blood from her hands.
Getting Ready for the Finish When she woke up one morning, Daniyal had something in her hand. A card. Dark. Not a stamp. Three silver symbols: 🔺 ⭕ ◼️
This time, there was no message. Only a single line: Our best players are never let go.
[Chapter 16 End]
Chapter 17: Exposed
Location: News Studio Basement, Hidden Server Room, Islamabad
Mira provides a journalist with testimony. However, nobody takes her seriously. Every piece of evidence vanishes. She is followed by shadowy figures.
Truth is buried beneath fear, not behind barriers.
The Last Journalist Mira had exhausted all possibilities. Corrupt police? Attorneys? I'm afraid. Politicians? paid for. She therefore got in touch with an unbuyable person. Hanif Rabia. An independent investigative journalist who has a reputation for revealing military scandals and then going missing for six months. In Islamabad, they first met in the basement of a shuttered FM news station. Mira gave her one of the USBs. She remarked, "It has everything." "Video. Sound. records of games. Player deaths. even the VIPs' names. Rabia remained unflinching. She drove. and uttered just two words: "We should burn them."
The Plan for Broadcasting Rabia had a straightforward plan: Put the files on several servers. Post brief videos to social media. And use an untraceable pirate signal to livestream a breaking story. "They can't kill all of us once it's out," she remarked. Mira, however, paused. "You're not aware of their potential." Rabia smiled. "They don't either."
The Assault The servers fell down that night as the files were uploading. The lights in the basement flickered. Tires shrieked outside. Mira took Daniyal and fled. Rabia remained in order to safeguard the hardware. When Mira turned around... She watched as guys in masks entered the structure. A fire, too.
A Search in the Dark Mira and Daniyal spent hours running through alleys, dodging CCTV, switching phones, and passing through safehouses. She got in touch with "Echo_19," a hacker friend of Rabia's. He attested to it: "Everything was wiped out." "Even backups." "Even I." He cut off. Once more, she was by herself.
An Insight from the Mirror After returning to a makeshift shelter, Mira cleaned Daniyal's face. He said as he glanced up at her: "The guy wearing the circle mask, Ammi, was outside our window." She stopped. looked out. Nobody. Nothing but silence. However, a message was written in hazy letters on the mirror: "Give up trying." "Play with your son the next time."
The Tipping Point Mira gazed at her reflection. And she felt something break inside of her. Everything had been taken. Faizan, Sana. Her life. Her quiet. They wanted her son now, too? Not any more. She had lost her fear. She grabbed her luggage. A phone that burns. A gun she had long since concealed. and addressed Daniyal: "This will come to an end. appropriately.
[Chapter 17 End]
Chapter 18: The New Invitation
Location: Present-Day Unknown City
The last shock is that Mira discovers a letter in her son's backpack. Her son's name appears on the identical invitation. She looks horrified at the envelope. It's a lifelong game.
"You win some games. You inherit others.
A Calm Morning Mira and Daniyal had relocated once more. A new moniker. A new city. No cell phones. No internet. No interaction. No one asked questions, just a leased apartment above a drugstore in a quiet town. Mira was no longer looking behind her. Nearly. There were no messages for two weeks. No indications. Just be quiet. Then, one morning, Daniyal rushed in while brandishing a hand. "This was left for me, Ammi!" Slowly, she turned. Her heart was already pounding.
The envelope It was dark. Not marked. She took it, her hands shaking. On the corner are three well-known symbols: 🔺 ⭕ ◼️
A smaller white card is inside: "Player 301: Akhtar Daniyal." "Age: 9." "You were chosen in advance for Season 10." "You leave a legacy." Mira sensed the tilt of the room. Her chest tightened each breath.
Legacy Mode One of the files she had seen in the archive, she recalled now. Something she didn't comprehend at the time. "The Legacy Selection Process." "The Game retains rights to the winning player's child as compensation when the player declines recruitment." The mask had been rejected by her. They hadn't forgotten, though.
The Option Is Back She discovered a second envelope on the balcony later that evening. There's a phone inside. Once, it rang. She replied. The Host's voice, smooth and serene. "Mira, you fought well." "But you didn't follow the rules." "Your son is playing now." "No," she muttered. Instead, take me. It's too late. The debt was transferred. A pause. The voice then said in a tone colder than anything she had heard in the game itself: "Unless..." "The mask is on you."
The Last Choice That night, Mira sat by the fire. looking into a brand-new silver mask. The same deal. The same decision. But at a different cost. Her son would be safe if she wore it. However, she had joined it. One of the observers wearing a mask. She detested a gear in the machine. She glanced at the sleeping Daniyal. Next, the mask. She grabbed for it cautiously.
Cut to black.
Epilogue: Completing the Circle A fresh game starts. 456 players show up. From the balcony, a man wearing a silver mask observes. Still, silent, and observing. She covered her eyes. However, her heart? Still blazing. since this time she didn't participate in the game. She turned inside the game in order to ruin it from the inside out.
[Chapter 18 End — Book End]
Some games never end.
They just change the players.
– Legacy of the Mask
Acknowledgments
I am deeply thankful to everyone who encouraged this story and stood by me throughout the journey. To the characters who spoke louder than words — you gave life to this tale. And to every reader who finds strength and hope in stories: may your voice always be heard and never silenced.
Special thanks to all who believed in this book and made it possible.
About the Authors
I am a passionate storyteller from Pakistan whose work blends psychological thrill with raw human emotion. I explore systems of power, survival ethics, and the complexity of human choices. The Final Round is my debut psychological thriller.