I Got Isekai'd to Another Planet

The prison lights brightened at exactly 08:00.

Soft violet hues faded into sterile white as the automated chime rang out and the sound of unlocking gates echoed across every tier.

SCHHHKT.

June's gate slid open with a hiss. She was already awake, standing in the center of her cell with arms folded. Her ribs still ached. Her lip was split. She moved with a limp, but she moved.

Miguel was at her cell door in seconds.

"Morning!" he grinned, panting a little from the jog across the tier.

June blinked at him. "You run every morning?"

"Only when I'm checking on someone," he said, still beaming. But his smile faltered when he saw the bruising under her eye, the way she hunched slightly from the pain. "You sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine," she muttered, stepping past him.

He walked beside her without a word, ready to catch her if she stumbled.

The atrium was already stirring. Survivors were gathering near the screens overhead, which began to flicker with static.

Then...

TOP PERFORMERS OF GAME 001: RUSSIAN ROULETTE

The screen lit up.

MVP #1: PARTICIPANT 0099372 – JUNE

A slow replay rolled.

Her face blank. The revolver lifted to her temple.

Click.

Click.

Click.

The crowd around them murmured. Some nodded with respect. Others narrowed their eyes.

Then it cut to...

MVP #2: PARTICIPANT 0099373 – MIGUEL

The screen flared with red tones as footage of Miguel played, edited like a bloody promo. His punch breaking the thug's nose. The oblique kick shattering a knee. The roundhouse. The knees. The kills.

And then, both bodies being thrown over the railing.

The prison's sound system chimed again...

REWARD: +100 TOKENS EACH

June checked her wrist.

June: 150 tokens

Miguel: 100 tokens

Miguel wasn't even looking.

June glanced at him. His shoulders had tensed. His expression was cold, drawn, almost sickened.

"I thought you'd be happy," she said, watching him.

He didn't answer right away.

Then, quietly...

"It's not something to be proud of."

She frowned.

"I know those guys were monsters," he went on, jaw tight. "But even monsters have people who care about them. All life is... it's precious."

June blinked. She didn't know what to say to that.

In her world, in her rules, you killed or got killed. No one mourned the bad ones.

But Miguel...

This guy's a saint, she thought.

Too good for this place.

Too soft.

Or maybe, just strong enough to still care.

The screens crackled again.

ATTENTION. GAME 002 BEGINS AT 09:00.

ALL SURVIVORS MUST REPORT TO THE CHAMBERS OR FACE ERASURE.

Silence fell over the atrium.

People shifted nervously. Those who had survived yesterday's game tightened fists or glanced at their piggies.

June didn't speak.

She just walked forward, eyes already scanning the crowd, looking for threats.

Miguel followed beside her, his usual energy dulled by something heavier.

The next game was minutes away.

And everyone was watching them now.

Targets.

Icons.

Enemies.

At exactly 08:45, June and Miguel walked through the archway into the next chamber.

And stopped.

This wasn't a metallic arena. It wasn't the cold walls of the prison.

It looked like Earth.

A vast forest stretched before them under a warm blue sky. Birds chirped faintly in the trees. A breeze rustled the tall grass. The air even smelled clean.

June squinted up at the sun.

Fake. Artificial.

But beautifully done.

"What the hell…" Miguel muttered. "Did we just walk outside?"

A hundred thousand survivors spilled into the green field, looking just as confused. The ground beneath them was soft soil and grass. A long, winding path stretched through the trees, marked with glowing indicators every hundred meters.

Then, thunder.

A loud boom echoed from above as a new figure descended from the sky.

He landed with a seismic thud in the center of the field, cracking the earth beneath him.

A god.

But this one wasn't a childlike horror or some twisted entity.

He was massive.

Towering nearly three stories tall, his muscles looked like they'd been carved from living stone. Tribal markings shimmered in gold across his obsidian skin. A mane of dreadlocked silver hair flowed down his back, and his eyes glowed like twin stars.

He cracked his neck and flexed his fingers, a voice like rolling thunder spilling from his mouth.

"I AM STRYKON, GOD OF STRENGTH, ENDURANCE, AND GRUELING PAIN."

He grinned, all white teeth and challenge.

"TODAY, YOU RUN."

"THIS IS THE MARATHON GAME. 26.2 MILES. 42.2 KILOMETERS. START TIME: 10:00. END TIME: 17:00. SEVEN HOURS. IF YOU FAIL TO FINISH, YOU ARE ERASED."

"YOU WILL COMPETE IN TEAMS OF FIVE. THE LAST FIVE TO FINISH WILL ALSO BE ERASED, REGARDLESS OF TEAM."

"TOKENS WILL BE REWARDED AS FOLLOWS: COMPLETE THE RACE? +250 TOKENS. YOUR ENTIRE TEAM FINISHES? NO PENALTIES. IF A TEAMMATE FAILS? -50 TOKENS FOR EACH FAILURE."

"YOU MAY PURCHASE FOOD, WATER, AND ENERGY BOOSTS AT THE STARTING KIOSKS. THERE ARE NO RULES BEYOND THESE."

"GOOD LUCK."

And with that, Strykon vanished in a flash of red light, the earth sealing shut where he stood.

A soft chime followed.

"YOU HAVE 15 MINUTES TO FIND YOUR TEAM."

June frowned.

"So that's the game. We should've saved more tokens from the last round. Now I get it."

Miguel's expression darkened. "A lot of people probably spent everything."

June nodded, already scanning the kiosks. "Which means they'll get desperate. They'll try to take from others."

"More targets on our backs," Miguel muttered.

They reached their designated flag, marked Team 1987.

Three others were already standing there, their expressions wary but alert.

The first was a Japanese man, maybe in his fifties. Salt-and-pepper hair, calm eyes, standing straight-backed with a veteran's posture. His number: 0099374. His name was Hideo.

Next to him stood a young Black teen, probably no older than sixteen, with shoulder-length dreads and sharp, watchful eyes. His number: 0099375. He wore the purple prison overall with black boots like everyone else. "Tobi," he said simply, Nigerian accent light but clear.

Beside him was a red-haired girl with striking green eyes and freckles, about the same age as Tobi. Her number: 0099376. "Maeve," she said in a thick Irish accent, glancing at June without blinking.

And then...

The last team member.

A stunning young woman, probably in her mid-20s, like June and Miguel. Sun-kissed skin, long platinum-blonde hair tied in a braid, and icy blue eyes. She looked like a model plucked from a billboard and dropped into hell. Her number: 0099377.

She smiled softly and said in a breezy American accent, "I'm Alyssa."

Miguel blinked.

And flushed.

June tilted her head, watching as Miguel awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck and said, "Uh, Miguel. That's me. And this is June. We've... kinda been through a lot already."

Alyssa smiled at him. "I can tell. You look like the guy from that MVP clip. That was wild."

Miguel's blush deepened. "Oh, that... yeah, it wasn't exactly planned..."

June didn't say anything.

Didn't react.

But something in her jaw tightened.

She didn't care.

She didn't.

Still...

The way Miguel kept glancing at Alyssa?

It irritated her.

More than it should have.

Her eyes narrowed. Just slightly.

Then she looked away.

It was almost time to run.

And this time?

Not everyone was going to make it.