The Conquering

The damp grass clung to his cheek like cold, clammy fingers as he stirred awake. A throbbing ache radiated through his skull. His eyelids fluttered open, a stinging pain pulsing behind his eyes as the blinding light of a bright day assaulted his vision. Squinting against the glare he lays eyes on the sky that loomed vast and pale blue above him. It was dotted with a few drifting clouds casting long shadows over the extensive field. Its deceptive serenity is a cruel contrast to the chaos about to ensue below. He blinked hard, adjusting to the brightness, the crisp scent of damp earth mingled with the tang of fresh grass, and the distant hum of insects reminded him that he was alive—at least for now.

Sitting up slowly, his body trembled as if the ground was unsteady beneath him.

"What...the fuck?" he muttered as he scanned the area. As his gaze swept over the sprawling field he saw hundreds of people scattered across the grass field, motionless, like fallen leaves. Their clothes, vibrant and mismatched, hinted at different walks of life—some wore suits, others uniforms, and a few casual attire. A strange unease coiled in his stomach, he couldn't tell if they were dead or merely unconscious.

The thought sent a shiver down his spine. He reached for the nearest person, an elderly woman dressed in an apron. With a trembling hand, he pressed two fingers against her neck. Relief flooded him when he found a faint, steady pulse.

The last thing he remembered was the metro ride home, the monotonous clatter of the train lulling him into a half-sleep. Then, there had been a flash—a searing, all-consuming light—and now... this. His mind raced, piecing together fragments of logic.

A mass kidnapping? Unlikely. Not even the richest psychopath could pull off something of this scale alone. A terrorist attack? Perhaps. But why leave them alive? His thoughts darkened, spiraling into wilder theories. A sick game? Entertainment for the depraved elite?

Out of all the rich bastards in the world did you HAVE to kidnap poor me?

He forced himself to focus. The grassy expanse stretched endlessly, surrounded by an impenetrable wall of dense forest. And there, at the heart of the clearing, were stone pedestals.

On top of the pedestals, are weapons. The sunlight glinted off blades and metal—a macabre display of violence potentially waiting to happen. Axes, swords, spears, and daggers lay neatly arranged, their edges sharp enough to catch the light even from a distance. His heart sank as realization dawned. Twenty weapons. Hundreds of people.

This is crazy, bunch of people, middle of nowhere, weapons in the middle, this is totally giving the feast games!!!

He pushed himself to his feet, his movements cautious, deliberate. Scanning the area, he confirmed no one else was awake. Slowly, as the faint rustle of leaves masked his light footsteps he approached the pedestal.

If anything I don't know if any of these people are dangerous. Waking up in a field fuck knows where who knows how some people will react. Weapon or no weapon if I have to make a choice I like my odds better with one.

The air around it felt heavier as if the weapons themselves radiated malice. His fingers hovered over the array before settling on a dagger—small, easily concealed, and deadly if necessary.

Carrying a big axe around kidnapped people might do more harm than good regardless of its lethality.

Tucking it into the back pocket of his jeans, he retraced his steps and lowered himself back to the ground, lying exactly where he had woken.

Being first to wake up could be good but it's risky, I might get attacked by paranoids or get questioned thinking I'm one of the kidnappers.

He shut his eyes, forcing his breaths to slow, feigning unconsciousness. His heart pounded as minutes dragged by, each second stretching into an eternity.

A rustle of movement broke the silence. He cracked an eyelid, watching as a figure stirred in the distance. A man, cautious and calculating, scanned the field with the same wariness. The man made his way to the pedestal, choosing a spear before retreating into the forest, and climbing high into the canopy.

Main character syndrome much.

But the quiet didn't last. Another person stirred—a woman this time. Her sudden gasp broke the eerie stillness, and she scrambled upright, her wide eyes darting around in panic.

A gasp tore through the stillness—a woman jolted awake and immediately scrambled upright, her wide eyes darting around in sheer panic. "Where am I?!" Her voice was shrill, desperate.

Her outburst stirred others nearby. Groggy confusion turned to alarm as one by one, more people woke. The chaos spread like wildfire—murmurs, cries, frantic movements. Fear infected the crowd, raw and palpable.

He sat up now, no longer bothering to feign unconsciousness. His eyes darted across the field, assessing faces, gestures, and the rising cacophony of voices. Carefully masking his observation of the others.

"Everyone, calm down!" The commanding voice silenced the crowd like a gunshot.

A short, bald man in military fatigues stepped forward, his posture rigid, his expression grim. "Does anyone know where we are or what's going on?" he barked, his voice cutting through the crackling tension.

Confusion rippled through the crowd, answers coming in disjointed fragments.

It seems like nobody really knows where we are however everyone seems to have seen the same flash of light. Apart from that nothing in common not even gender, age, or occupation.

"Everybody do not worry, kidnapping of this large scale will not go unnoticed.

Just hold on the authorities will come for sure" a big stocky bearded man instructed. His attire fits the description of a judge. This seemed to have calmed the crowd slightly as they all agreed with his statement.

"If everyone could come to me and tell me their names so I can write it down" urged a young red-headed police lady.

"BAH, what we need to do is stop loitering around and find a way out of this fucking forest" shouted a humongous round man more troll-like if anything wearing a white vest and tattoos all over him.

"This isn't the time to be fighting." said the soldier.

However, it seemed more than a few people agreed with the troll. Slowly groups form one of them being the military man, the judge, the police officer, and similar folks. 

Cliques are already forming rapidly, human nature I suppose.

"What about those?" Someone pointed toward the weapons, their voice trembling. "What do you think they're for?"

A heavy silence fell, suffocating in its implications.

"You think... they want us to kill each other?" another voice wavered. Fear spread like a contagion.

Before anyone could respond, a sharp, mocking laugh echoed across the field, freezing every soul in the place.

"This part never gets old."

All eyes snapped toward the edge of the field. A figure stepped forward, draped in dark, flowing robes. His face was obscured by shadows, but his grin was visible—a wide, grotesque curve of teeth that oozed malice.

"Who are you?" someone shouted, their voice cracking with anger and fear. "Did you do this? Are you behind this?"

The figure tilted his head, his grin widening. "And if I am?", his tone laced with mockery.

"You bastard!" a man shouted, charging toward him.

The robed figure didn't move. When the man was within 5 meters he simply raised a hand, his fingers curling lazily. In an instant, flames erupted from the man's body. His screams were brief, drowned out by the roar of fire that consumed him.

The crowd watched in horror as the flames reduced the man to ash, the air filling with the sickening stench of burnt flesh. A heavy, suffocating silence followed, punctuated only by the robed figure's cold laughter.

No way, VFX?? a flamethrower?? Magic??

No one dared move. The robed man's smile widened as if feeding on their fear.

"Let that serve as your first lesson," he said, his voice a blade cutting through the crowd's terror. "Impatience will get you killed."

He took a step forward and everyone scrambled away but to everyone's shock, he impossibly began to rise. Levitating above the field like a god surveying his dominion. 

"Welcome," he declared, his arms spreading wide and theatrically. "To The Conquering. Be honored, for you have been chosen. Compete, survive, betray, kill—do whatever it takes. For only one of you will claim the title."

He paused.

"The Conqueror."