NOVEL WEB Chapter 1: Battle Royal of Souls
The city pulsed with life, neon lights casting jagged reflections on rain-slick streets. Distant engines rumbled, blending with the occasional slurred shout of drunken men and the wail of a passing siren. It was a night like any other.
Yet, deep in his bones, Damien felt something was wrong.
He lay on a luxurious bed, the silk sheets cool against his bare skin. Beside him, a woman stirred, her delicate fingers tracing slow, lazy circles across his chest.
She was beautiful—almost otherworldly. Long, dark hair cascaded down her back like liquid shadow, her skin pale and flawless under the dim glow of the bedside lamp. Every movement she made was mesmerizing, calculated in its allure.
Too perfect.
"You're quiet tonight," she murmured, pressing closer. Her voice carried an unusual weight, like a melody laced with something unseen.
Damien smirked, running a hand through her smooth, inky locks. "Just thinking."
"Thinking?" She let out a soft, silvery laugh, warm breath ghosting over his skin. "That doesn't sound like you."
He turned slightly, propping himself on one elbow. "Maybe I'm trying something new."
The truth was, he wasn't in the mood for small talk. He had everything—a kingdom carved from the underworld, fear and respect bound to him like a leash. No one dared cross him. Not anymore. He had fought, clawed, and killed his way to the top.
Then why did he feel so uneasy?
His instincts, the same ones that had kept him alive all these years, screamed at him. Something was wrong.
"Something on your mind?" he asked, studying the woman's face.
Her lips parted, as if on the verge of saying something—but she hesitated. A flicker of something in her eyes. A crack in the illusion. It was brief, almost imperceptible, but Damien noticed. He always noticed.
His heart began to pound.
Badum. Badum.
"You should leave the city," she whispered.
His entire body tensed. "Why?"
She sat up, the silk sheets slipping from her shoulders. The city lights from the window bathed her in an ethereal glow—soft, beautiful, tragic.
A foreboding silence stretched between them.
Then—
BOOM.
The world erupted in a blinding explosion.
Flames roared. Glass shattered. The shockwave hurled Damien backward, his body slamming against the wall with bone-crushing force. His ears rang, the deafening noise drowning out everything. Smoke choked his lungs. The stench of burning flesh filled the air.
His flesh.
Pain unlike anything he had ever known consumed him. His blood boiled, his skin searing as fire licked the walls. His muscles refused to move, but his fading vision searched for her.
And then—
He saw it.
Not the room. Her.
Or rather, what was left of her.
His mind refused to process it. She hadn't just died.
She had exploded.
One moment she had been beside him—warm, alive. The next, gone. Flesh torn apart. Blood sprayed across the burning walls.
A trap.
She had been the bomb.
But why?
Hadn't he given her everything? Hadn't he treated her like royalty? Why?
His vision wavered. Blood pooled beneath him, soaking into his skin.
So this is how I die.
Not in a hail of gunfire. Not in a war for power. But naked in a burning room, betrayed by the one person he had let get close.
His thoughts slowed. His heartbeat faded.
Darkness swallowed him whole.
---
Damien didn't know how much time had passed, but the anger in his heart slightly faded or to precise it got buried deep within his heart.
Seconds? Hours? Years?
He shouldn't be able to think. Shouldn't he be dead?
When his eyes opened, he found himself elsewhere.
Not in the wreckage of his penthouse. Not in some grimy alley.
Somewhere far worse.
A vast expanse stretched endlessly before him—silent, oppressive. Thousands of people stood around him, their faces twisted in confusion and fear. Some were young, others old. Many bore the unmistakable wounds of violent deaths—gunshots, stab wounds, missing limbs.
What is this place? The air was completely devoid of any smell.
He tried to move, but his body felt… different. Weightless.
Then—
The air hissed as if it was forcefully torn apart.
A presence filled the space, immense and suffocating. Something ancient. Something unknowable.
Damien felt it before he saw it.
The fabric of reality tore open.
A throne—colossal beyond comprehension, forged from bone and gold—descended from the void. It was as large as a planet, glowing with an eerie, ominous light.
And seated upon it—
A being draped in a robe woven from darkness and dying stars. A golden mask concealed its face, featureless yet exuding absolute authority. Its eyes burned like collapsing suns.
The weight of its gaze pressed down on Damien like an ocean.
Around him, people collapsed to their knees, their bodies trembling under the sheer force of its presence. Some fainted outright.
Damien gritted his teeth, barely holding on.
The pressure eased—slightly. Enough for him to lift his head.
It was then the entity spoke.
A voice that wasn't a voice, but an echo that thundered through his very soul.
"Welcome to the Battle of Afterlife."
Murmurs rippled through the crowd. Confusion turned to whispers. Whispers turned to panic.
"Mommy, I want to go home!"
"Someone, help me!"
"Is this a joke?"
"Where are the cameras? My client is waiting!"
But not everyone panicked.
Damien stayed silent, observing. Calculating.
The entity ignored the outbursts, its voice unwavering.
"You are dead. But not yet erased. You have one final chance. A test of your worth."
Blood-red words ignited in the air.
[Welcome to the Battle Royale of Souls.]
[The top 10 will be reborn.]
[The rest will cease to exist.]
[Refusal to kill results in immediate erasure.]
A deadly hush fell over the crowd.
Damien read the words carefully, after forcefully supressing the confusion and and panic of death..Then, slowly, a grin spread across his face.
A game.
Unlike the others, he didn't question reality. He still vividly remembered the explosion—the scorching heat, the unbearable pain. His death was real.
And so was this.
If what the entity said was true, then he had a chance.
A second chance.
His fingers curled. His eyes darkened.
No one was going to stop him.
And if they tried?
Heh!
Damien hadn't clawed his way to the top by playing nice.
A low chuckle escaped his lips.
"You're laughing?" a bald man near him whispered, horrified.
Damien flexed his fingers, his smirk widening. "I've been playing this game since the day I was born."
Somewhere in the distance, a gong rang.
The battle for a second life had begun.