Satan’s Game

The pool is emerald green, impossibly deep, and seemingly endless.

Once submerged, the visibility improves initially, but as Cillian swims deeper, the sunlight fails to penetrate, and darkness gradually takes over.

Below the surface, plankton drift lazily, and clusters of green algae sway gently. Fish dart through the water, their scales shimmering in the dim light.

Deeper still, long strands of aquatic plants rise like ghostly hands, swaying and beckoning as if inviting him to come closer.

Cillian keeps his distance, mindful not to get entangled and risk being dragged to the depths. The lakebed is uneven, and the areas with visible vegetation don't extend across the entire bottom.

Swimming past the plants, he sees the floor drop away into an even deeper abyss.

As his oxygen runs low, Cillian decides to resurface.

Ali, who entered five minutes before him, hasn't come back up. One thing is now clear—Ali must have something in his inventory that allows him to stay underwater longer.

Since Ali wasn't wearing any visible gear, Cillian guesses he likely has oxygen pills.

Up on the shore, Carlos clutches the rope tightly, glancing at his watch to track the time.

At sixty seconds, his face grows tense.

An average person can hold their breath for about a minute. Athletes or those in peak physical condition might manage two or three minutes.

Now it's been a minute and thirty seconds.

Carlos crouches at the water's edge, peering intently into the pool. He still can't see any sign of Cillian.

His grip tightens on the rope, preparing to pull, when suddenly the line begins to slacken, floating upward. 

The movement means one thing—Cillian is heading back to the surface!

Moments later, a shadow emerges from the depths.

*Splash!

Cillian bursts through the surface, gasping for air and wiping water from his face.

Carlos calls out, "Ali hasn't come back yet. Two more people went in after you, but none of them have resurfaced."

"How long has it been?" Cillian asks, still catching his breath.

"About twenty seconds after you dive. Do you think they all picked oxygen pills?"

"Unlikely," Cillian recalls the intricate layout beneath the surface. 

"Maybe there's more than one way out of the pool."

"Give me the pill."Cillian stretches out his hand. 

Carlos retrieves the oxygen pill from his system and hands it to him. 

Swallowing the small red capsule, Cillian feels a faint sourness in his cheeks but nothing else.

"Is this really an oxygen pill?"

Carlos, a seasoned non-swimmer who's used the pill countless times, asks, "Do your cheeks feel sour?"

"Yeah."

"That's right. The butler didn't mess up the supply."

I wasn't doubting the butler. I was doubting you, Cillian thinks but doesn't voice.

Taking a deep breath, he dives back into the pool. This time, he's playing for real—he has an hour.

As he swims past the familiar plants, he notices the difference immediately. The pill works. 

There's no need to hold his breath; it feels as if oxygen fills the water around him. He even experiments by opening his mouth, taking in a bit of water, and finds it surprisingly manageable.

Relaxing, he focuses on finding the clue.

[System Notification]You are 100 feet (Around 30 meters )away from the clue.

After swimming a little farther, another notification buzzes in his ear.

[System Notification]You are 150 feet away from the clue.

Cillian realizes he's gone the wrong way. Turning around, he follows the system's guidance, finally reaching a patch of aquatic plants taller than a man. They crowd together, waving like eerie, oversized seaweed balloons.

[System Notification]You are 50 feet away from the clue.

The system chimes repeatedly, signaling he's closing in.

The clue must be hidden in the plants.

[Live Comments]This is so creepy. Something's going to jump out, I just know it!

[Live Comments] The plants will kill him! 

[Live Comments] The clue's in there. Of course, they have to go!

[Live Comments] Oh, damn! Wait, HE—just went in! Absolute legend!

Drawing his knife, Cillian swims into the dense patch of vegetation.

The plants sway with the water's current, brushing against his clothes. 

Small fish dart through the maze of greenery, their pale colors almost blending with the murky surroundings.

Though their sharp teeth glint ominously, they don't seem aggressive—for now.

Cillian avoids provoking them, carefully maneuvering through the plants.

Suddenly, a figure darts past him, moving with incredible speed. 

The swimmer is a short, wiry man, his gills visibly puffed like inflated balloons and his eyes bloodshot from the pressure.

Seeing him calms Cillian slightly—it seems others didn't choose the oxygen pill either.

At least he doesn't feel like a fool for not choosing it.

***

Carlos spots a figure shooting up from the water, but it's not Cillian.

*Splash!

The man breaks the surface, gasping for air in huge gulps.

Carlos greets him casually, "Hey, we meet again. Three minutes and four seconds. Impressive."

[Live Comments]Did Carlos seriously time every single dive to the second? Props!

[Live Comments] This man is a walking stopwatch.

The short man, still catching his breath, sneers, "Loser," before diving back into the water.

Carlos shrugs off the insult and checks his watch again, resuming his calculations.

Then he notices the rope tightening, pulling taut.

His brow furrows. The rope has reached its full 150 feet (Around 45 meter) length.

Is the pool only 150 feet deep? 

No. Based on what he had said earlier, Cillian must have found an underwater tunnel.

A tug on the rope interrupts his thoughts. Moments later, it slackens entirely.

This was their signal—if Cillian needed to move further but the rope was insufficient, he would cut it.

Carlos pulls the rope back, inspecting the clean cut at the end.

Good. 

Cillian's fine.

Meanwhile, Cillian has indeed found the underwater entrance.

The dense patch of aquatic plants had proven more of an obstacle than a threat, and the narrow opening ahead is just large enough for him to squeeze through.

But for someone with a physique like Ali's, it would be a tight fit.

Cillian notices scratches and chips on the rocks framing the entrance. 

Ali must have forced his way through.

Suddenly, a loud, rushing sound catches his attention.

Turning, he sees a massive fish barreling toward him at full speed.

He dodges, but movement underwater is slower and more cumbersome than on land.

The fish is enormous, at least four meters long, with a body streaked in gray, green, and flashes of red—a giant Arapaima.

The giant arapaima is one of the largest freshwater fish species, capable of growing up to six meters and weighing hundreds of kilograms.

Cillian remembers a world record where a Thai man once caught a 460-pound arapaima. He recalls the photo vividly.

But never had he imagined encountering one here, in a rain forest pool.

The sheer size of the fish implies that this pool might be part of a larger underground water system connected to a river.

Why is it attacking me? Cillian wonders.

Whether it's the calculated or random aggression, he knows one thing for sure—this is no coincidence. 

Be careful.

Playing Satan's game is never an easy ride.

The fish is clumsy but far more agile in water than any human.

It rams into him repeatedly, growing increasingly agitated. Each strike forces Cillian further from the tunnel entrance.

He draws his knife, aiming to jab at its eyes to fend it off.

Before he can act, another swimmer darts past him—a wiry man with an intense, desperate look, his gills puffed up like balloons.

The man aims to sneak past both Cillian and the fish, heading straight for the entrance.

Not a chance,I'm not a stepping stone, Cillian thinks.

He swims toward the man, baiting the arapaima in the process.

The fish changes course, charging at the newcomer. Its powerful tail slaps the water so hard it nearly collapses part of the tunnel entrance.

That man is forced to retreat, pushed into open water.

Cillian freezes in place, observing how the fish reacts.

Sure enough, it grows calmer when its target remains still.

The man notices the same pattern and stops moving too.

But Cillian has an advantage—time. The man doesn't.

The man saw through Cillian's plan and glowered at him.

But his oxygen runs out first, forcing him to swim for the surface.

The moment he moves, the arapaima lunges at him, giving Cillian the perfect opportunity to slip through the tunnel entrance unnoticed.

As the fish chases outside, unable to follow him into the narrow passage, Cillian swims deeper.

Above, the man bursts out of the water, coughing and gasping for air.

Carlos checks his watch. 

Three minutes, seventeen seconds.

He decides to keep the observation to himself—the man looks furious and unstable.

But his attempt to stay quiet fails.

The man glares at Carlos, his eyes dark and menacing.

Sensing danger, Carlos instinctively steps back.

Too late.

The man smirks coldly, grabs Carlos by the ankle, and yanks him into the water with shocking strength.

Carlos loses his footing and plunges into the lake, vanishing beneath the surface.

[Live Comments]WHAT THE HELL?! HE DRAGGED CARLOS IN!

[Live Comments] NO! MY BOY CARLOS!

[Live Comments] Someone save the strategist! He can't swim!