Satan’s Game

[System Broadcast] Congratulations on passing the trial and becoming the first to enter the game. 

Your role is: Strategist. 

Please take your card and prepare to enter.

[System Broadcast] Congratulations on passing the trial and becoming the second to enter the game. 

Your role is: Assassin. 

Please take your card and prepare to enter.

[System Broadcast] Congratulations…

[System Broadcast] Congratulations…

On the live-streaming channel of the game, five players who successfully pass the trials appear on the public display.

Inside the game, none of the participants know who else is still fighting for survival. The only clue is the constantly moving red dots on the public map.

From the countless red dots covering the map in the first round to large swathes disappearing, it takes only two hours.

By the fifth round, the red dots are as sparse as stars in the night sky. There are only a few players left, but even fewer spots available.

When the white tiger leaps into the arena, the public display lights up for the sixth time—

[System Broadcast] Congratulations on passing the trial and becoming the sixth to enter the game. 

Your role is: Sorcerer. 

Please take your card and prepare to enter.

Only one spot remains.

But there are still 18 red dots.

The global live-stream channel for the game is filled with rapid-fire comments from viewers.

[Live Comments] Damn, I lost big this time. None of the people I bet on made it.

[Live Comments] Picking seven out of fu*king thousands is tough luck even if you're guessing blind.

[Live Comments] There's still one spot left, calm down!!!!

Cillian doesn't let the broadcast announcing the last remaining spot distract him. Any lapse in focus could see him torn in half by the tiger in front of him.

The white tiger, a mutated Bengal tiger, is one of only about 200 surviving worldwide.

Yet here it is, thrown into this deadly arena.

While the mutation enhances its appearance, it doesn't dull the tiger's natural ferocity. Especially since it is a tiger starved for three days.

Cillian draws a long, razor-sharp blade from behind his back. His piercing gaze radiates an unmistakable killing intent—no need to hide it.

A dominating aura often ends unnecessary conflicts before they even start.

But the beasts, clearly, don't care.

The white tiger locks its eyes on the human before it. The blade in his hand doesn't intimidate it.

Roaring, it leaps toward him.

Its first charge elicits gasps from the spectators.

This is a global live broadcast, the pinnacle of annual entertainment.

The host? 

Satan himself. 

A mysterious figure of absolute power, capable of granting anything.

Money, power—these are the lowest forms of desires in his eyes.

The victor gets their every wish fulfilled, no matter how impossible: even bringing a pile of bones back to life.

But to see him and make your wish, you have to become the sole champion of the game.

Each year, this global broadcasted event becomes a carnival of spectacle.

The five trials leading to the main game are already incredibly perilous, yet they are only the appetizer.

Making it to the fifth trial is a testament to one's exceptional skill.

[Live Comments] No way. Please don't let the seventh player be that guy, or my money's gone.

[Live Comments] Same here. I placed three bets and lost $3,000.

[Live Comments] I actually think he's got a chance—clean moves, precise strikes.

[Live Comments] Oh, look at this simp in the chat.

[Live Comments] His style's impressive. I'm placing a bet.

The tiger is fast, but Cillian is faster, dodging its strike with agile precision.

With a flick of his wrist, the blade spins in his hand, forming an elegant arc, its movements clean and sharp.

The spectators hold their breath as they watch the dramatic exchange, knowing he faces a beast of unmatched power.

Enraged by missing its target, the tiger roars and pounces again, its jaws wide open, revealing teeth as sharp as knives.

The bite force of a tiger can crush bones with ease. If that jaw closes on Cillian, it would be the end.

But he doesn't let that happen. With a swift sidestep, he dodges the tiger's attack, and in the same motion, his blade slashes across its neck with precision.

Blood sprays into the air, painting the ground in a gruesome red.

The tiger roars in pain, but its rage only grows. It shakes its massive head, then lunges toward Cillian again, this time aiming with its shoulder, its full weight and momentum behind the attack.

The strike is perfectly timed and nearly impossible to avoid.

Cillian tries to evade, but the tiger's attack hits home, sending him crashing to the ground in a cloud of dust.

The beast wastes no time. It raises a paw, its claws sharp as razors, aiming straight for his head.

[Live Comments] No one can fight a tiger one-on-one. This is just suicide!

[Live Comments] Sheesh, I was starting to root for him. Oh god, guess he's done.

[Live Comments] This is why humans shouldn't challenge nature.

The tiger's claws come down with lethal force, the air thick with tension as the world watches.

A loud thud follows, and blood splatters everywhere, seeping into the golden sand of the arena floor.

For a moment, the viewers fall silent. Many think the fight is over.

Until someone notices something strange about the tiger.

[Live Comments] Wait… Why isn't the tiger moving?

[Live Comments] It looked like it got him. But what's going on?

Suddenly, the massive beast sways and collapses to the ground, revealing Cillian underneath. He shoves the lifeless tiger's body off of him and stands, bloodied but victorious.

A long blade protrudes from the tiger's chest, piercing straight through its heart.

[Live Comments] Holy crap, he did it!!!

[Live Comments] Is this guy even human?

[Live Comments] I'm switching my bet. This guy's insane.

[Live Comments] Someone send him roses! He deserves it!

Cheers and virtual gifts flood the live broadcast, the screen lighting up with firework effects and celebratory icons. But none of it reaches Cillian.

For the players, the outside world is inaccessible. All they can see is the battlefield before them.

Cillian wipes the blood off his blade, sheathes it at his side, and stands tall amidst the carnage.

[System Broadcast] Congratulations on passing the trial and becoming the final participant. 

Your role is: Warrior. 

Please take your card and prepare to enter.

A black card slices through the air, landing neatly in his hand.

It is the size of a credit card but made of unyielding metal. A blood-red number "7" is etched into its surface.

Each year, countless people lose their humanity and sanity in pursuit of this card.

Cillian tucks it away, his expression unreadable.

He knows the true challenge is only beginning.

A week later, he officially steps into Satan's game, answering the call and becoming one of the seven chosen players.

But entering the game isn't enough.

Cillian's goal is simple: to become the sole victor.

Seven players from across the globe are selected, each carrying secrets, each determined to survive, and each ready to do whatever it takes to win.

Victory promises more than just survival—it promises power, glory, and the fulfillment of their deepest desires.

But in this game, there can only be ONE winner.

****

The warm morning light streams through the windows, flooding the spacious room with brightness.

A young woman sits in a chair, a white cat curled up in her lap. The cat seems to enjoy the sun, purring softly as it occasionally stretches lazily.

Her slender, pale hands stroke the cat gently as they bask together in the golden light.

The sound of the door unlocking breaks the tranquility. 

Someone enters.

Evie turns her head toward the sound and smiles. 

"You're early today."

The cat hears the footsteps too. Its calm demeanor vanishes as it leaps off her lap, ready to flee.

But Cillian moves faster. With a single stride, he scoops the cat into his arms and holds it high. 

"Look! Little tiger, why are you running? Do I look like I'm going to eat you?"

The white cat doesn't dare struggle, letting out a pitiful meow as it glances at Evie for help.

Evie chuckles softly. 

"Don't tease it. Every time you come over, you pet it so much that it's scared of you now."

"Saves you the trouble of brushing its fur, doesn't it?"Cillian smirks. 

Despite his teasing words, he places the cat back on Evie's lap.

The moment he lets go, the cat bolts, darting into the shadows and watching him warily from its hiding spot.

Cillian pulls a face at it, and the poor creature fluffs up in alarm, retreating even further into the room's dark corners.

"Looks like ever since I killed the big tiger, this little one's been terrified of me," he jokes.

"Cats have a sharp sense of smell."

"Do I still smell like blood?"Cillian sniffs the back of his hand.

Evie doesn't answer directly. Instead, she asks quietly, "Are you leaving soon?"

"Yes," he replies. 

"It's been seven days. I've waited long enough."

Evie hesitates, then says, "Can't you… not go?"

"If you didn't want me to go, why did you support me in the first place?"

Evie raises her dull, unseeing eyes to "look" at him. Her eyes, though large and beautifully framed with deep double eyelids, have long lost their vision.

"Do you really want to know why?" she asks.

"I do."

"Because I never thought you'd actually become one of the seven," she says softly.

"Was I that hopeless? Sorry you are wrong."

Evie remains silent for a long moment, twisting her fingers nervously until they turn red. 

Finally, she speaks in a trembling voice. "Cillian, please don't go."

"I have to," he says firmly.

"Then I beg you. Don't go," she pleads, her voice shaking, her eyes filling with unshed tears.

Cillian pauses, then steps closer to her. He pats her head gently. 

"You know I have to. It's the only way to bring him back, your fiancé… my brother."

Evie freezes, her breath catching.

Cillian's gaze drifts to the photo hanging on the wall—a picture of him and his brother. In it, his brother beams with radiant joy, his smile as warm as the sunlight.

He is young, handsome, full of life and promise.

But he's gone now.

Gone in the most brutal, tragic way.

Cillian wants him back.

Entering Satan's game is the only way.

He must win, no matter the cost.

A noise comes from outside the door. Almost immediately, the white cat scurries deeper into its hiding place, as if the person outside is even more terrifying than Cillian.

"Mr Hollis, we're here to escort you," a voice calls from beyond the door.

Cillian strides toward the door. As he grips the handle, he glances back with a confident smile. 

"I'll bring him back. I promise."

Evie flinches, knowing there's no stopping him. Silent tears fall down her cheeks.

"…Alright," she whispers.