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Chapter 1
Segun Oguniyi
Segun Oguniyi stood at the center of the island and waited.
If someone asked him what he was waiting for, he would not have an answer. Habit, maybe. Or instinct. When things ended, he preferred to stay still for a moment and confirm that they truly had.
The air smelled of smoke and wet stone. It was not unpleasant, just heavy, the kind of smell that stuck to clothes and skin. Smoke drifted lazily above the ruins, rising from broken buildings and scorched ground. The island looked smaller now. It always did at the end.
Below the cliffs, the ocean moved in slow, endless waves. It did not care about the island or the people who had died on it. It had been here long before this place became a stage, and it would still be here long after.
Segun listened to the sound of the water.
His left ear picked up less than it used to. The sound came in unevenly, like a recording played through a damaged speaker. He adjusted without thinking, turning his head slightly, letting his right ear do more of the work. His body had learned these corrections years ago.
Above him, drones hovered in a loose formation.
They kept their distance. They always did at the end. Their lenses shifted quietly, refocusing, recalibrating, capturing every detail. Red indicator lights blinked at a steady pace, slow enough to be calming if one did not know what they represented.
APEX INITIATIVE LIVE BROADCAST
DELAY FIFTEEN SECONDS
Somewhere far away, people were watching him breathe.
Segun exhaled slowly.
He let the air leave his lungs completely before drawing in another breath. Deep. Controlled. He filled his chest until it expanded fully, then held it there. His heartbeat stayed steady. The technique was familiar. Reliable. This was not for rest. This was habit from combat, something that told his body everything was still under control.
Blood soaked into the cracked stone beneath his boots.
Some of it was his. A shallow cut along his ribs seeped steadily, warm against his skin. He had already checked it. No organ damage. No restriction in movement. It would heal badly and leave another scar. He did not mind.
Most of the blood belonged to others.
They lay scattered around the collapsed zone, bodies in different states of stillness. Some looked surprised. Others looked almost peaceful. Segun did not look at their faces for long. He had already memorized the terrain when they were alive.
A notification appeared across the remaining interfaces on the island.
PARTICIPANTS REMAINING
ONE
The number was simple. Final.
Across the world, reactions came in waves.
Chat windows filled instantly, words stacking on top of each other faster than they could be read.
That is him
The Reaper
No team the whole time
How is he not dead
He looks calm
Segun did not react to the noise he could not hear.
Instead, his hand moved to his chest.
The pendant rested there, cool against his skin. Black metal, worn smooth at the edges. A cross intertwined with a dragon. He traced the familiar grooves with his thumb, following the pattern slowly. The motion had nothing to do with faith. It was muscle memory. Something grounding.
Years ago, in a place with no cameras, he had learned that hands needed something to do when the mind went quiet.
A voice broke the silence.
Calm. Neutral. Almost polite.
"Segun Oguniyi. Zone Number Seven. Former Nigeria."
The drones adjusted their positions, tightening their angles slightly.
"Identity confirmed."
Segun raised his head.
He did not glare at the drones. He did not challenge them. He simply acknowledged their presence, the same way one acknowledged weather.
"Status confirmed. Last man standing."
The wind passed through the ruins, lifting ash and dust into the air. It brushed against Segun's face. He blinked once and let it pass.
"Apex Initiative is concluded."
The words were clear. Final. Not celebratory.
Segun felt nothing in particular when he heard them. Relief did not come. Neither did pride. He had learned a long time ago that emotions lagged behind reality, and reality rarely waited.
Another voice followed. This one was human.
Controlled. Measured. Professional.
"You were selected as a criminal."
Segun's fingers paused on the pendant.
"You survived as an asset."
That was new wording.
He considered it briefly, the way one might consider unfamiliar terrain. Not deeply. There would be time for that later, if later mattered.
He released the pendant.
Segun inhaled again, drawing in air until his lungs were full. He held it for a count only he knew, then let it go slowly. His shoulders relaxed. His posture remained balanced.
"Survival," he said.
His voice was low, even, almost casual.
"Is winning."
The broadcast cut.
Across the world, screens went dark.
Some people stared at the empty space where his image had been. Others immediately began arguing about what they had just seen. Clips were saved. Names were tagged. Predictions were made.
On the island, the drones rose.
One by one, they pulled back, ascending into the cloud cover until their lights were no longer visible. The faint hum faded, leaving only the sound of wind and water.
Segun stood alone.
For a moment, he simply listened.
Insects chirped somewhere beyond the ruins. The ocean continued its steady rhythm. Fire crackled softly as it consumed the last of what it could.
He touched the pendant once more.
Then he turned toward the horizon and took his first step forward.
Whatever came next, he would deal with it when it arrived.
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