"it's just us...and only us"

Forty years ago, an unknown entity showed up on Earth.

Called himself a God.

But not just any god—the God of Games.

He didn't ask.

He invited.

A deadly invitation no one could refuse.

Then chaos broke loose.

Monsters of every shape and size poured into the world—creatures born of nightmares.

Human weapons were useless.

No bullets, no bombs, no swords could touch them.

Humanity bled.

Friends died.

Families were torn apart.

The world was pushed to the edge of extinction.

Hope flickered.

Almost died.

But then—

A spark.

The desperate awakened power.

Abilities that shattered logic.

They called themselves the Chosen.

Blessed—or cursed—by a force called Nexar.

Their powers passed down through generations, an inheritance soaked in blood.

At first, it seemed like salvation.

But salvation has its price.

The Chosen were ripped from their lives—thrown into a world beyond this one.

To face brutal trials called Challenges.

The stakes?

Simple.

Live. Or die.

Only the strongest survive.

Welcome to the Life Death Game.

No mercy. No second chances.

You're either a player… or you're a pawn.

Far from the eyes of the world, hidden in shadows, stands Pyrax Academy.

A fortress for the Chosen.

A crucible forged by the government to shape youth into hunters—Pyrax—their last defense.

The night was black as ink.

The full moon hung heavy, a pale sentinel in the sky.

Hundreds of youths were loaded into armored black trucks.

No light. No air from outside.

Nothing allowed in or out without control.

Not even hope.

Inside Truck B2_78KS—The Special Unit—it was silent.

Unlike the chaos of the others, this truck held quiet broken souls.

Eyes told stories no words could touch.

Broken pasts.

Fractured futures.

Among them, the government's last hope.

No one dared speak.

No one dared trust.

Until a soft chuckle sliced through the silence.

A girl, alone in the corner—hood pulled tight, hiding her face.

Pink hoodie. White shorts. White sneakers.

Her laughter was defiance.

Annoying, but fearless.

Then came the heavy footsteps.

A shadow crashing through the truck—Mich.

A towering, dirty man with crimson eyes full of hate.

Everyone shrank back.

Mich wanted to break her.

Grabbed her by the collar—anger pouring from every word.

"Who the hell do you think you are, little bitch?"

She didn't flinch.

When her hood slipped off, the air shifted—her vermilion eyes burned like a warning flare.

She was something else.

Ethereal.

Mich growled but was cut off—

"Yo, bro, why you shouting?"

He turned—no one there.

She vanished, leaving only a torn teddy bear in his grasp.

A shadow in a game he didn't understand.

And then—

Karze stepped up.

Curly black hair, baggy hoodie, eyes like a flowing river—alive, calm.

Mich sneered but Karze wasn't afraid.

Words flew.

Fists followed.

In a blur, Karze struck—power crushing Mich to the floor with shockwaves that rattled the truck.

Everyone stared, mouths agape, unable to follow the speed.

Karze walked away, cool as ice, and sat beside Evae, the girl with the sketches.

Their quiet moment a fragile island in the storm.

Hours passed.

Evae talked in her sleep—words of longing, of "why can't we be more..."

Karze watched, heart heavy.

So much he wanted to say.

So much he couldn't risk.

Because if he spoke, he'd lose her.

The truck jerked to a stop.

Subtle, but enough.

Karze's lips curled into a dark smirk.

"This is gonna be one hell of a welcome..."

Eyes flicked open around the truck—hope sparking in tired faces.

They had arrived.

Their promised land.

Or so they thought.

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