The atmosphere inside the square transformed from a sanctuary into a collective slaughterhouse within seconds. The blue sphere blocked the monsters outside like a shield; they clawed at the transparent wall, snarling as they tried to force their way in, but to no avail. Yet, that same sphere refused to let the people inside out. A few who tried to flee were thrown back as if hitting a concrete wall. Here, humanity was left alone with its own brutality.

  Screams began to rise from every corner of the square. When the first blood was shed, the floodgates opened. People who had been trembling side by side moments ago were now at each other's throats out of sheer survival instinct. One man drove a rusty screwdriver into another’s shoulder; someone else crushed an old friend's head with a stone found on the ground. Blood began to flow in gulleys across the marble floor; the once-clean square was now scorched by the pungent smell of iron.

  "What do we do, Alex?" Roy’s voice cut through the horrific noise like a sharp blade. He gripped his rifle tightly, but the barrel was shaking. Elara was looking into my eyes; her gaze held both a profound fear and a hope that expected a way out from me.

  My mind was racing. My eyes scanned the chaos of the square and finally found that man. The swordsman stood in the very middle of this bloody theater, like the calm eye of a hurricane. He wasn't moving. He was just waiting. The body count around him wasn't increasing; when someone attacked him, he simply neutralized them—wounding their legs or arms and leaving them behind. He wasn't killing anyone.

  Why? I wondered. Why isn't he killing? A man who achieved a hidden quest must know the rules of the system better than we do.

  "We can't kill people," Elara said, her voice sounding tearful. "This crosses the line! We fought monsters, but this... this is something else!"

  "So should we just die then, Elara?" Roy barked, gritting his teeth. "If the count doesn't drop, we’ll all be wiped out! Are we going to just sit here and wait for others to kill us or for the timer to run out?"

  Roy was right; logic dictated that. But the swordsman's calmness whispered something else to me. The system was forcing us to tear each other apart, but perhaps this was the real test to be overcome. That man's refusal to kill wasn't a weakness—it was a strategy.

  "We aren't going to kill anyone," I said, my voice carrying a resolve that momentarily stilled Roy's anger. I slung my rifle over my back and held my combat knife in a purely defensive stance. "I have a plan. Did you see what that swordsman was doing? He knows something. Killing isn't the solution; maybe that's the system's real trap."

  I stepped closer to both of them and looked them in the eyes. Nearby, a woman collapsed screaming, and a man lunged toward us with a bloody club, but Roy parried him with the butt of his rifle.

  "Do you trust me?" I asked.

  Elara nodded without a second's hesitation. Roy looked at the brutality around him, then back at me. He let out a deep breath, gripped his rifle tighter, and gave his approval.

  In the midst of the carnage, the shrieks, and the smell of fresh blood, we took our first step toward the shadow of that silent executioner.

  Inside that invisible shield at the center of the square, the concept of time had completely vanished. All that remained were the sounds of bones breaking, muffled groans, and the squelching of blood pooling on the marble floor.

  I moved closer to Roy and Elara, trying to isolate my voice from the chaos. "We can't let other people decide our fate by doing nothing," I said, my breath hitching. "But randomly murdering people isn't right either. So, I’m leaving the choice to you; who they are or how you choose them is up to you. But start wounding people, do not kill them. Just make them unable to move."

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  Roy stared intently into my eyes as he slung his rifle over his back and drew the police knives from his belt. "If you're only saying this so we don't kill them, that's fine, Alex," he said, his voice dropping to an ice-cold tone. "I can kill them if I have to. This is a game of survival."

  I felt that wild impulse welling up inside me. "If I wanted to kill them..." I said, and paused to swallow. There was a knot in my throat; the shadow of the man who tore those monsters apart in the station was still over me. "Believe me, I would have done it, Roy. I am as ready as you are to risk everything to survive. But you must trust me. Don't kill anyone. Just leave them immobile and let others finish the job. Keep your hands clean—we'll need that later."

  After a moment of hesitation, Roy gave a slight nod. "Fine," he said briefly.

  "Let's meet back at this spot when the time is up," I added. Before I could even finish the sentence, Roy plunged like a shadow into the darkness, moving among the people at each other's throats.

  Elara was still beside me. She was gripping her knife so hard her knuckles were white, and her shoulders were trembling violently. I turned to her. "You don't have to do this if you don't want to, Elara. Even if you do nothing, people will probably kill each other before the time is up anyway. Besides, your skill... isn't suited for combat."

  Elara paused for a moment. She lowered her head, then took a deep breath and looked up. The fearful girl was gone, replaced by a stranger who had sworn to sink her claws into life. "No," she said, her voice steady. "I’ll do it. I will direct my own fate!"

  She gripped her knife firmly. For a moment, we locked eyes; in that gaze, there was both a farewell and a promise. Elara also turned toward the crowd and blended into the brutality.

  Now I was alone again. Just like at the very beginning. Just like the moment I watched the mayhem from the school window... Alone.

  I looked at the scene before me. A man sat atop someone he had just killed, staring meaninglessly at the sky. Elsewhere, three people were kicking a woman to take the piece of bread in her hand. Humanity was vomiting its own essence to the rhythm of Bilton’s shrill laughter.

  I flipped my combat knife in my hand. Every fiber in my muscles was urging me to act. The count had dropped to 1412. The smell of blood, combined with the electric air in the square, burned my throat.

  I walked forward, right into the heart of the darkness, to make the first move.

  In that bloody clearing at the center of the square, I stood a few meters away from the swordsman. Watching him was like watching a disaster in slow motion; every time he swung his blade, the air whistled, laying his victims low without killing them, but in a way that ensured they would never stand again. His movements were so fluid that it was more like performing a dark art than a fight.

  But I had no time for art. I looked around; the chaos was deepening every second. On one side, those attacking children; on the other, those targeting helpless elderly... Age, gender, or the moral rules of the old world no longer held any sway. A nonsensical skill given by the system could turn even a child into a monster capable of killing me in a single move. Because of that, I didn't have the luxury of underestimated anyone.

  I gripped my knife in a reverse hold and waited. Those who saw the "death circle" around the swordsman were shying away from him like shadows. However, in the direction they fled, there was me—waiting with a knife, looking "easier."

  Before long, two people separated from the crowd toward me. One was a massive, muscular man; beside him was a cold-looking young woman.

  The man lunged forward with a wild grin on his face. "SO YOU’RE THE NEXT LUCKY ONE! HAHAHAHA!" he roared. His hands suddenly began to shake, and grey, jagged rocks covered his skin like armor, turning his fists into two massive stone maces.

  The woman spoke in an ice-cold voice as she twirled the thin knife in her hand. "Don't take it personally, kid. You heard what that monster said about hidden quests. There's probably a reward for killing the most people or reaching a certain number. We want to survive just like you; if you don't move, we'll finish you off painlessly."

  I gritted my teeth. I didn't care about their promise of a "painless death." I spun that wheel in my mind one last time. Come on... I need speed, I need strength!

  [GENETIC ROULETTE ACTIVATED.] [TRAIT ACQUIRED: MUTANT MUSCLES - DURATION: 5 MINUTES]

  I felt every fiber in my body coil like a spring, the blood in my veins heating up like engine oil. I guess I’m lucky lately, I thought. The skill I wanted was arriving exactly when I needed it.

  When the woman noticed the sudden change in my posture and muscles, and the bulging veins in my neck, she narrowed her eyes. She brought her knife forward as if to make a move.

  "I suppose you have no intention of giving up," the woman said, her voice more cautious now.

  "Giving up?" I said, my voice coming deeper from the pressure of the mutant muscles. "I'm just getting warmed up."