Phased out

The man who threw the punch stood motionless, his expression devoid of any regret merciless, cold, and utterly unshaken. His massive frame loomed over the injured man, his presence alone enough to make it clear

If he wanted to, he could end this right now. 

He could kill.

The room fell into an uneasy silence. 

The echoes of the impact still rang in the ears of the hundreds watching. A single punch had reduced the victim to a trembling mess, blood gushing from his nose, soaking his shirt as it dribbled down his chin. He clutched his face, gasping for breath, his legs wobbling beneath him like they could give out at any moment. 

Nobody moved. 

Nobody spoke. 

The atmosphere turned suffocating, thick with unspoken questions and uncertainty. What just happened? 

Why? No one had expected violence this soon. Was this part of the event? 

Ethan's breath slowed, his mind processing the scene before him. He stole a glance at Karlos and Alice—both were equally frozen. 

Ethan (thinking): "This is bad… That guy isn't just trying to prove a point—he looks like he's ready to kill." 

People in the crowd exchanged worried looks, some instinctively stepping back, creating more space around the two men. Fear. Confusion. Hesitation. 

Everyone was waiting. 

For what? 

For someone to step in? 

For the man to throw another punch? 

For something worse? 

The injured man coughed, staggering slightly as his blood dripped onto the pristine marble floor. His shaky hand reached forward, almost as if to plead—whether for mercy or help, no one could tell. 

And then… 

The sound of slow, deliberate footsteps echoed through the hall. 

Someone was coming. 

And the silence grew even deeper. 

As the footsteps grew louder, the tension in the room thickened. Every pair of eyes instinctively shifted toward the source of the sound. 

A man stepped onto the stage. 

He wasn't tall, nor was he particularly intimidating—standing at around 165 cm, his presence alone 

shouldn't have been enough to command attention. But something about him felt off. 

His posture was bent, his back slightly hunched like that of an elder, yet his movements were unnaturally controlled. The way he walked—slow, deliberate, as if he held absolute authority—sent an eerie chill down the spines of those watching. 

The entire crowd shifted their gaze toward him, their curiosity momentarily overpowering their fear. Even the massive man who threw the punch, along with his bleeding victim, turned their attention toward the figure. 

Ethan, Karlos, and Alice stiffened, their breathing slowing. 

This man—who was he? 

And more importantly… was he here to stop the fight, or was this exactly what he wanted? 

A young man, also wearing a mask, approached the stage and handed the elderly figure a microphone. 

Ethan's sharp eyes scanned the scene, and a realization crept over him. 

Every single person associated with this event—Azerath, the young man, and now this elder—was 

wearing a mask. Not a single one of them had revealed their face. But what was even stranger was that each mask was different—not uniform, not part of an organization, but individual, unique. 

The atmosphere in the hall shifted again. 

A heavy, unspoken pressure settled over the crowd.

Nobody spoke.

Nobody moved. 

It wasn't fear that silenced them. 

It was instinct. 

They felt the need to be silent. 

The old man cleared his throat, the subtle noise echoing eerily in the quiet hall. 

Then, he spoke. 

Old Man (???): "Hello everyone, and may the crowd please not create a commotion." 

His voice was deep, smooth yet commanding—an unmistakable British accent lacing each word. 

It wasn't just his words that carried weight. 

It was his presence. 

He didn't yell. He didn't threaten. Yet, the moment he spoke, the entire hall obeyed. His voice alone was enough to command absolute attention. 

The air grew heavier, tension thickening like a fog. Ethan, Karlos, and Alice could feel it—the way the energy of the room shifted, the way the suspense wrapped around them like a noose. 

What was he going to say next? 

The old man's voice echoed through the hall, carrying a weight that demanded undivided attention. 

Old Man (???): "Welcome to Palamine. You must have many questions. Allow me to clear them." 

He paused briefly, clearing his throat once more. 

The silence in the room deepened. 

Not a single murmur, not a single shuffle of feet, everyone listened intently, hanging onto every word as if they were afraid of missing something crucial. 

Even Ethan, Karlos, and Alice, who had been cautious from the beginning, found themselves fully 

absorbed in his words. 

Karlos leaned slightly toward Ethan, his voice barely above a whisper. 

Karlos: "Wasn't Palamine the name of the place?" 

Ethan didn't respond immediately. His thoughts were racing. 

Ethan swallowed, his voice just as unsteady as Karlos' when he whispered back. 

Ethan: "I'm just as confused as you are... Let's hear his speech first." 

Karlos nodded in agreement, his expression serious. Neither of them had expected this—Palamine wasn't just a location. It was something much bigger. 

The scene shifted back to the old man as he continued speaking. 

Old Man (???): "Palamine isn't the name of this place. It's the name of the event we have created for all of you. Everyone here is a participant of Palamine. It brings me great joy that so many have taken an interest." 

His voice fluctuated unnaturally, shifting between a calm explanation and a disturbing happiness—as if he was genuinely pleased by the sheer number of people who had unknowingly walked into this. 

Ethan felt a chill run down his spine. Participant? 

What kind of event was this? 

The old man's voice carried on, his tone remaining eerily composed. 

Old Man (???): "The event will begin tomorrow. Instructions will be given to everyone as soon as 

breakfast is served. Also—no one shall leave this mansion. Leaving will result in your name being 

canceled." 

The moment the word canceled left his lips, an eerie implication settled in the air. He hadn't said 

"disqualified" or "removed." He had said canceled. 

Old Man (???): "We have everything you need to make your stay pleasant and comfortable. Please, enjoy your time at Palamine." 

With that, he calmly switched off the microphone and stepped off the stage. 

The silence that once suffocated the hall shattered instantly. 

Excited murmurs and whispers flooded the room, some people thrilled, and others confused.

Groups formed as people began discussing what the old man had just said. 

Ethan, Karlos, and Alice remained rooted in place. 

They weren't excited. They weren't relaxed. 

They were deeply unsettled. 

This wasn't just an event. 

This was a trap. 

And now, they were part of it. 

The tension from the speech still lingered in the air as the crowd slowly dissolved into smaller groups, discussing what to do next. 

Karlos' eyes scanned the room, his gut twisting with unease. 

Karlos: "The event starts tomorrow… I don't know. I have a really bad feeling about this." 

His voice was low, uncertain. For the first time, the usually composed Karlos let his unease show. 

Alice, standing beside them, took a deep breath, steadying herself. Though her voice carried traces of nervousness, there was also something new—confidence. 

Alice: "There's no choice now. The crowd seems to be relaxed since their doubts have been cleared. So, I guess we should start forming teams?" 

Her tone shifted mid-sentence—as if she was already beginning to adapt to the situation. 

Ethan barely reacted. His eyes drifted around the massive hall, watching the other participants as

Karlos answered Alice. 

Karlos: "You're right. If we don't form teams, we might get left behind." 

Ethan nodded absentmindedly, though his body language screamed indifference. The motivation he had felt when rushing here, the desperate hope that this was fate's gift to him—was slowly fading. 

Alice, on the other hand, nodded with determination. Unlike Ethan, she was already shifting her mindset. 

That didn't go unnoticed by Karlos. 

He observed her carefully—the way her posture changed, the way her fear had melted away. It was as if the moment she realized she wasn't alone, she had transformed. 

Karlos (thinking): "Look at her… She wanted to play this game all along. She was only nervous because she had no one for herself. Now she does—and her fear is suddenly gone." 

Karlos wasn't sure if that was a good thing… or something to be wary of. 

Time passed, and the chaotic energy in the room gradually shifted. What was once a massive, 

disorganized crowd had now split into smaller, structured groups—people gravitating toward those they felt they could trust. 

The room no longer looked like a restless mob. Now, it was categorized, separated into factions. Some groups were large, others small, but one thing was clear—everyone had come to the same conclusion. 

Survival meant alliances. 

Karlos stood with his arms crossed, his sharp eyes scanning the room. Something felt off. He had 

estimated around 600 people when they first arrived, but now, as he looked around, it was obvious. 

There were way more than that. 

Hundreds upon hundreds of participants filled the hall—far too many for this to be anything simple. 

His unease only grew. 

Still, he knew one thing—staying alone was not an option. 

Karlos: "We need a team." 

It didn't take long. 

Soon, their group was formed. 

Ethan – Detached, reluctant, but sharp when needed. 

Karlos – The natural leader, always analyzing the situation. 

Alice – Adaptive, quick to shift her mindset for survival. 

Johnathan – A quiet, observant man with an unreadable expression. 

Kasey – Calculated, intense, as if she was always thinking two steps ahead. 

April – Seemingly carefree, but there was something about her… something that didn't match her relaxed demeanor. 

As they stood together, one unshakable truth settled over them. 

They were no longer just individuals. 

They were participants. 

The newly formed group stood together, a circle of six amidst the countless other teams forming in the grand hall. 

A moment of silence settled between them before Johnathan took the lead. 

Johnathan-A tall, well-built man with short brown hair and sharp green eyes. His expression remained unreadable, but his tone was calm, composed. 

"Johnathan. I'm here for the same reason as most of you—curiosity. And now that we're here, I guess we'll see what we signed up for." 

Kasey-A woman in her mid-twenties, her dark auburn hair pulled back into a ponytail, her eyes analyzing each of them carefully before speaking. 

"Kasey. It's good we're forming teams early. I don't trust being alone in a place like this."

April-Unlike the others, she smiled as she spoke, her light brown eyes carrying a spark of amusement. 

"April! Seems like we'll be spending some time together, so let's try not to get each other killed, yeah?" 

Her tone was playful, but something about her didn't match her carefree attitude. 

Alice- Her introduction was simple, her voice steady. 

"Alice. I guess we'll be looking out for each other now." 

Ethan

Ethan, feeling a little detached from the situation, sighed before giving his name. 

"Ethan." 

Karlos, With all introductions done, Karlos finally spoke up, taking control of the moment. 

Karlos: "Guys, we have no idea what this event might be or what kind of challenges we'll be facing." 

His voice was confident, steady—a natural leader in the making. 

Karlos: "Please be loyal to each other, and let's not betray our own comrades… okay?" 

He looked at each of them, ensuring his words sank in. 

The group exchanged glances, some nodding in agreement, others remaining silent—but no one outright objected. 

For now, they were a team. 

As the newly formed Team Karlos chatted among themselves, trying to get to know each other,

Ethan 

stood apart. 

His mind drifted away from the conversation, his motivation sinking further with each passing second. 

This whole thing... it didn't feel real. 

A bizarre event, strangers forming alliances, an unknown challenge ahead—what were the chances of them even winning? 

His dull eyes scanned the room. 

Other groups had far more members. 

Some had twenty people, others as large as thirty-five. Their team of six looked small, insignificant, weak in comparison. 

Ethan's chest tightened slightly, a creeping thought forming in the back of his mind— 

"If this really is a competition… then we're already at a disadvantage." 

He let out a quiet sigh, glancing over at Karlos, who was fully engaged in leading the team. 

Karlos: "Well then, let's discuss about tomorro—" 

Before he could finish, a sharp, commanding voice cut through the room. 

"ATTENTION, PARTICIPANTS!" 

A group of masked guards stood at the edges of the hall, their voices booming, demanding silence. 

The atmosphere shifted instantly. 

The casual chatter died down. Conversations halted. The weight of reality came crashing back down. 

Ethan, still detached, felt something stir within him again. 

The guards stood tall and firm, their presence alone enough to keep the crowd in check. 

Guard: "All participants, form a line immediately. You will be escorted to your rooms one by one." 

There was no hesitation. 

People moved quickly, falling into formation as instructed. The line formed into 10 rows and 10 columns, stretching across the massive hall. 

Ethan, Karlos, Alice, Johnathan, Kasey, and April stuck close together, subtly adjusting their positions to ensure they wouldn't be separated. 

But as they stood there, waiting for their turn, an unsettling realization crept into Karlos' mind. 

His eyes flicked to the guards, then to the long corridor ahead where people were being led away, one by one. 

Karlos (thinking): "This is wrong." 

His breath hitched slightly, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. 

"They're making everyone stay in individual rooms… but why?" 

If this event was truly about teaming up, they would have allowed people to stay together. But they 

weren't. 

Instead, they were separating them. 

Karlos (thinking): "Maybe we didn't understand the nature of this event enough." 

His pulse quickened. 

The slow, methodical pace at which people entered their rooms only made the gut feeling worse. 

Something about this was off. 

And as their turn crept closer, that feeling of unease only grew stronger. 

As everyone was escorted into their rooms, the massive hall gradually emptied, swallowed by an eerie silence. 

One by one, the doors shut behind them, leaving each participant alone. 

Ethan, Alice, Johnathan, Karlos, April, and Kasey now sat in separate rooms, isolated from one another. 

The atmosphere felt wrong. 

The rooms were identical—small, clean, but strangely empty. A simple bed, a desk, a chair, and a single light overhead. There were no windows, no clocks, no personal belongings. Just four plain walls and a door that locked the moment they stepped inside. 

For the first time since arriving, true isolation sank in. 

And with it… came the feeling that something wasn't right. 

Ethan let out a deep sigh as he sat down on the edge of the bed, his body feeling heavier than ever. 

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and rubbed his face with both hands, trying to shake off the exhaustion that clung to him. 

The day had been long, draining, and downright bizarre. 

From waking up feeling unmotivated, to receiving that letter, to running through the rain just to find himself trapped in some mysterious event he barely understood. 

His fingers pressed against his temples, frustration bubbling up inside him. 

"This day couldn't get any worse." 

He let his hands fall to his lap and stared at the plain white wall in front of him, his mind clouded with thoughts he didn't want to deal with.

And yet… something told him that this was only the beginning. 

Ethan sat there, his eyes dull, his posture slouched, the weight of reality pressing down on him.

His thoughts spiraled, dragging him deeper into that familiar emptiness. 

Ethan (muttering to himself): "We have no chance of winning... We aren't the lucky ones. We aren't the chosen ones." 

His voice was hollow, drained of the fire that had flickered in him before. 

Ethan: "If fate has already decided something for us… there's no point in fighting back." 

He stared at the floor, his mind clouded with the same hopelessness that had consumed him for years. 

The brief moment of curiosity, of purpose, of believing this event might change something—was gone. 

His hands rested on his knees as he let out a slow, defeated sigh. 

Ethan: "If it's written that we'll win… then we'll win. If not... I'll just go along with the flow." 

Just like that, the spark inside him faded. 

The same detached, indifferent Ethan who entered the mansion… had returned. 

Ethan sat in silence, his mind wandering as he stared at the ceiling. 

"What are the others doing right now?" 

Were they thinking the same thing? Were they feeling the same sense of unease? Or had they already accepted their fate, just as he had? 

Before he could sink any deeper into his thoughts— 

Knock. Knock. 

The sudden sound made him jolt upright, his heart skipping a beat. 

For a split second, he froze. 

His eyes darted toward the door. 

"Who the hell…?" 

Cautiously, he stood up and quickly walked to the eyeknob, pressing his eye against it to see who was outside. 

A guard. 

He let out a slow breath, steadying himself. 

Ethan (muttering to himself): "Oh… it's just a guard." 

His fingers hesitated on the doorknob before carefully turning it open. 

The guard, expressionless beneath his mask, wordlessly handed him a tray of food. 

On it sat a fresh pizza, crispy chicken legs, a cold can of Coke, a sealed water bottle, and a soft pastry on the side. 

No words. No instructions. 

The moment Ethan took the tray, the guard pulled the door shut himself, the lock clicking back into place. 

Ethan stood there, staring at the food in his hands. 

Ethan sighed, staring at the tray in his hands. 

Ethan (muttering): "At least the food is good." 

With that, he sat down on the bed, placing the tray beside him before grabbing a slice of pizza. 

The warm cheese stretched as he took his first bite, the rich flavor instantly making him realize—this wasn't just good food, it was top-tier. 

The crispy chicken legs were perfectly seasoned, the pastry soft and sweet, and the cold Coke fizzed on his tongue, washing everything down smoothly. 

For the first time since stepping into this mansion, Ethan felt a bit of joy. 

After finishing most of his meal, he grabbed the leftover pizza slices, walked over to the mini fridge, and neatly stored them inside. Returning to his bed, he leaned back, taking slow sips of his Coke as he let himself relax. 

Ethan: "Damn… no matter how bad and weird this event is, the food is amazing." 

A small smirk formed on his face as he took another sip, enjoying the rare moment of comfort. 

For now, at least, he could enjoy something. 

Ethan took the last sip of his Coke, the cool fizz disappearing as he tossed the empty can across the room, not bothering to aim for the trash. 

It rolled across the floor with a hollow clink before settling near the corner. 

Letting out a satisfied sigh, he collapsed onto the bed, arms stretched out, his body sinking into the soft mattress. 

Then… a strange heaviness crept over him. 

His eyelids grew unbearably heavy, his body suddenly feeling like it weighed twice as much. 

A wave of overwhelming drowsiness crashed into him—too sudden, too strong. 

Ethan: "Damn… was I this tired that I can't keep my eyes op—" 

His words slurred as he fought to stay awake, but it was useless. 

His vision blurred, his thoughts faded, and within seconds— 

His eyes shut completely. 

Falling into a deep, unnatural sleep. 

A few hours passed. 

Ethan's body jerked upright as he sprang from the bed, his heart pounding. 

"Shit—I'm late for work!" 

His mind, still groggy, instantly panicked, his body moving on autopilot. But just as he reached for his phone—reality hit him. 

His hands froze. His breathing slowed. 

There was no office. 

There was no home. 

There was only this event. 

His heartbeat settled, relief washing over him for a brief moment. But that relief was short-lived—because as he finally took in his surroundings, his entire body stiffened. 

He wasn't in his room. 

The bed, the fridge, the tray of food—all gone. 

His breath hitched as his eyes darted around in pure shock. 

He was now in a completely different place. 

The walls were stained, yellowish-white, stretching into the distance with no clear exits. The floor beneath him was a dull, lifeless carpet—no patterns, no signs of anything familiar. 

Above him, dim yellow lights flickered erratically, buzzing softly, casting eerie shadows that stretched and twisted with every flicker. 

It was an open space, yet at the same time, it wasn't. 

The area wasn't a maze, but walls stood in strange, random places—not forming paths, not creating barriers, just... existing. 

As if they had been placed with no logic, no purpose. 

An endless, desolate liminal space that shouldn't exist. 

Ethan's breath grew uneven, his mind racing as he turned in slow circles, trying to process the 

impossibility of where he had woken up. 

"What the hell is this place…?" 

And more importantly—how did he get here?