Intrusive Memory

Suddenly, around the hall, hundreds of modules rose from the ground, resembling electric massage chairs but equipped with complex devices.

"Please, everyone, choose a module," Delta instructed, then waited for everyone to take a seat.

At that moment, several people wearing white coats entered the hall and began configuring the devices on each module. Afterward, they secured the participants' limbs to the chairs, placed special helmets on their heads, attached cables to their bodies, and inserted intravenous lines. Finally, they took out a mask that covered only the mouth and secured it to each participant's face.

All the participants gazed nervously at the plastic bag containers connected to the intravenous lines, filled with a mysterious green liquid. They didn't know what it was yet, they all knew it was something bad.

"The second phase has been designed to test your mental strength. As you've seen on your left armrests, there's a big red button. You may press it if you decide to surrender. This phase has no time limit; it will end when only 256 participants remain. All I can tell you about the phase itself is... endure it," Delta explained before the window through which he spoke turned black and merged with the wall.

A couple of minutes later, the individuals in white coats finished setting up all the modules and left the hall in an orderly fashion.

The hall fell silent for a brief moment, as the green fluid in the plastic containers traveled through the intravenous lines into the participants' bodies. When the liquid mingled with their bloodstream, the previous calm in the hall was shattered entirely by over a thousand muffled groans of pain escaping from the participants.

Pain. Excruciating pain.

Not once in their lives had they felt such intense pain. Blinded by pain, their minds couldn't form a single thought, except for one: 'The red button!'

Not even a minute into the second phase, almost simultaneously, and out of pure reflex, 53 participants pressed the red button, disqualifying themselves from the tournament. However, they weren't the only ones; in the following minutes, more and more participants followed suit.

After reaching the ten-minute mark, the storm of disqualifications gradually slowed down. By then, 268 participants had been disqualified, leaving 736 participants. In just the first ten minutes, approximately one-fourth of the participants had been eliminated.

"What's the status?" Delta asked in the control room.

"736 participants remaining, sir."

"Good. Teleport the disqualified participants out of the room and monitor the vitals of the remaining participants. Let's keep the casualties to a minimum."

'How much time has passed? How many participants are left? How long until the pain subsides?' These questions plagued the participants' minds. Many times, when going through a hard time, knowing how much time you had to endure it served as a comfort and kept the spirit up. Whether it was 'three more months of school,' 'one more year of college,' 'three hours more at work,' or 'thirty minutes more of training,' having a timeframe made the end seem reachable.

However, at that moment, the participants had no idea how long they would have to endure the excruciating pain they felt, nor did they know how much time had already passed. The only clue to how much longer they'd suffer was the number of remaining participants, but they didn't have a way to know that either.

How long is an hour? How long is a minute? How long is a second?

It all became fuzzy when all you could feel was pain.

'Huh? Why does this suddenly feel familiar?' Seth wondered from his chair.

Like the rest of the participants, Seth fought hard not to convulse in his chair. However, the pain was overwhelming and he couldn't help but writhe in pain. Suddenly, in a moment of clarity, his mind involuntarily started navigating through his memories. In the past, this process was known as "Intrusive Memory."

Images began to surface from his memories. They were fuzzy, but the emotions were deeply engraved in his mind.

The image of a city on fire came to his mind. The sky once bright blue sky was now obscured by smoke, and the once imposing, hope-filled city was in shambles. Every few seconds, one of the city's skyscrapers crumbled to the ground.

When he looked to the side, in the midst of the destruction and fire, a lone tower lit the night, blazing like a torch, the HSA tower, entirely engulfed in flames, was still standing.

Once a symbol of hope, the tower was now nothing more than a mere burning corpse. It stood there, burning with an intensity that echoed the profound darkness and despair that consumed the souls of those who survived to bear witness. 

More images appeared in rapid succession. Blood, pain, corpses, mixed with fear, pain, and despair, it all came rushing back. Long-suppressed memories resurfaced, and there was nothing Seth could do to stop them.

Finally, the memories overwhelmed him. He let out a blood-curdling scream, muffled by the mask covering his mouth. He continued to scream and convulse, not because of the pain from the green liquid coursing through his veins but due to the sheer pain that caused him to suddenly recall those memories.

After some time, the violent discharge of memories stopped. Although the pain from the green liquid continued to intensify, Seth no longer felt it. At that moment, he had become numb to the pain, staring blankly into space.