A Kill for Survival

Kaito stayed frozen on the rooftop, his heart racing. The silence after the scream was deafening, and his mind replayed the horrifying scene of the teenager's death. He couldn't stop shaking.

What am I doing here? I'm not like them.

He peeked over the edge of the rooftop, his BIO still vibrating faintly on his wrist. The man who had killed the teenager was nowhere to be seen. Kaito exhaled shakily, but his reprieve was short-lived.

A faint sound reached his ears—a shuffle, followed by a metallic clink. Someone was climbing the fire escape.

His breath caught. The logical part of his brain screamed to run, but his legs wouldn't move. He tightened his grip on the gun, his palms slick with sweat.

The noise grew louder. A figure emerged onto the roof—a woman, clad in a torn hoodie, her face pale but resolute. She was holding a pistol, but it was clear she hadn't seen Kaito yet.

She scanned her surroundings, her weapon raised. Kaito ducked behind a ventilation unit, praying she wouldn't notice him.

But then his foot brushed against a loose piece of rubble, sending it tumbling down the rooftop with a sharp clatter.

"Who's there?" the woman barked, her gun snapping in his direction.

Kaito panicked, stepping out of cover with his hands raised. "Wait! Don't shoot! I'm not your enemy!"

The woman's eyes narrowed, her finger twitching on the trigger. "In this game, everyone's an enemy."

Kaito shook his head desperately. "Please! I don't want to fight—"

Her shot rang out before he could finish. He dived to the side, but not fast enough. The bullet grazed his shoulder, a searing pain ripping through him. He cried out, clutching his arm as blood began to stain his shirt.

Something inside him snapped.

If I don't shoot, she will.

Instinct took over. His hands moved before his brain caught up, raising the gun and pulling the trigger. The first shot missed, but the second hit her in the chest.

The woman staggered, dropping her gun as her knees buckled. Her eyes locked with his, a mixture of shock and fear frozen on her face. She collapsed, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop.

Kaito's BIO vibrated again:

"8 Players Remaining."

He stared at the lifeless body in front of him, his ears ringing. The realization hit him like a freight train—I killed her.

His stomach churned, and he dropped his gun, falling to his knees. The rooftop felt like it was spinning, the edges blurring as nausea took over. He retched, his entire body shaking.

"I didn't mean to..." he whispered, his voice breaking. "I didn't want to..."

But the pain in his shoulder and the blood on his hands told a different story. He didn't have a choice.

Minutes passed before he managed to steady himself. The BIO on his wrist beeped, pulling him from his haze. A message appeared on the screen:

"Final 8 players confirmed. Extraction to central arena in 60 seconds."

He wiped his face, his hands trembling as he picked up the gun again. The barrel felt heavier now, weighted with guilt.

The sound of approaching drones snapped him out of his daze. A spotlight locked onto him, and he felt himself being lifted—no, transported—as the rooftop dissolved around him.

When his vision cleared, he was standing in a vast, circular arena. The other survivors appeared one by one, forming a tense, scattered circle.

Mika was there, her face pale but determined. She noticed him immediately, her eyes darting to the blood on his shoulder. "Kaito!" she whispered, stepping closer. "Are you okay?"

He nodded faintly, though he wasn't sure if it was true.

A loud, mechanical voice echoed across the arena:

"Final 8. Prepare for the next stage: Team Deathmatch."

Kaito's stomach dropped. The nightmare wasn't over—it was just beginning.