"So you are saying, we should believe monsters roam around here?"
The Antlered Man's mask tilted slightly at the blonde man's outburst. A tense silence filled the room—until a mocking chuckle crackled through the speakers.
"Unfortunately," the Antlered Man said, his voice dripping with false sympathy,
"I do not have permission to discuss the Dark further."
Leon's eyes narrowed. "No permission?"
"So he's just a puppet? Who's really pulling the strings?"
Before he could dwell on it, the Antlered Man spread his arms wide, his cloak billowing like wings.
"Now then… let's take a look at your ranks, everyone!"
Ship workers dragged in a massive digital board, its screen flickering to life with a harsh, neon glow. At the top, bold letters read:
[RANKS] ― [ELIMINATIONS]
A murmur rippled through the survivors as they craned their necks to see.
The Antlered Man's voice boomed, silencing the room:
"Out of 300 participants, only 226 remain. That means 74 of you… were hunted."
Leon's stomach churned.
Workers began distributing black armbands, each with a small digital display. Leon fastened his, the screen blinking to life:
[199]
Nearby, the spiky-haired blonde scoffed, flashing his own band—[12]—before turning to the Antlered Man with a sharp grin.
"So what's the prize for top rank, boss? A gold star?"
The Antlered Man's voice dripped with amusement as he continued:
"Unfortunately, no gold stars… but for every person you hunt, you will earn…
Credits!"
Leon's brow furrowed. "Credits? "
"With Credits, you can buy whatever your heart desires at the Item Shop on the left deck!" The Antlered Man gestured theatrically, as if announcing a carnival game.
The ponytailed Asian man next to Leon scoffed.
"Tch, They're really treating this like a video game."
Leon nodded absently, his eyes locked on the leaderboard.
His gaze scanned the numbers:
- Rank 200: 0 Eliminations
- Rank 199 (Leon): 1 Elimination
- Rank 191: 0 Eliminations
- Rank 175: 0 Eliminations
- Rank 100: 0 Eliminations
"So kills aren't the only factor…" Leon's mind raced.
"Physical ability and skills must weigh heavily too."
Then—the Top 5.
- Rank 5: 3 Eliminations
- Rank 4: 5 Eliminations
- Rank 3: 9 Eliminations
- Rank 2: 1 Elimination
Leon blinked. "Rank 2 only has one kill?!"
The ponytailed man leaned in, voice low.
"Whoever that is… must have some crazy strength"
Leon turned to him. "So you figured it out too?"
The man shoved his hands in his pockets, nodding. "But what surprises me most…" His eyes darkened.
"...is how ruthless you'd have to be to hit Rank 1."
Leon's eyes jumped to the top of the board—
RANK 1: 25 ELIMINATIONS
"TWENTY-FIVE?!" Leon's shout echoed through the deck.
"How is that even—?!"
The ponytailed man grimaced. "Whoever that is, definitely took this game a little too serious. "
Nearby, the blonde spiky-haired man laughed, flashing his Rank 12 armband.
"Guess I've got some catching up to do!"
By the way," the asian man said,
tilting his head, "what rank are you?"
Leon hesitated, fingers twitching toward his armband. "Oh… I'm…"
His expression softened. "Damn. Sorry, that was harsh."
"No, no, it's just… figured I hide my rank like evryone else."
" I absolutely shouldn't tell anyone my real rank."
He nodded, and rolled his sleeve down.
Leon feigned surprise. "So what got you here… Mr.…?"
"Dante."
"Leon."
"You're Kore—"
"Japanese," Dante cut in, "you were close though"
Leon winced. "Aha. Sorry, not really good with races."
Dante shrugged, a smirk playing on his lips.
"No worries. I actually look more European than Japanese." His tone dripped sarcasm.
Leon laughed weakly, then sighed, rubbing the needle mark on his neck.
"Well, I don't even know what could've motivated me to join this sick game. They drugged me.
"I Can't remember anything before the kidnapping."
Dante's smirk vanished. He leaned in, voice dropping. "You think you were targeted?"
Leon met his eyes. "Possibly. But no clue why."
A heavy silence fell between them.
Somewhere on the ship, a loudspeaker crackled:
"All participants, prepare for dinner service in the main hall."
Dante grimaced. "Guess we cant think with a empty stomach!"
***
Leon stabbed a meatball, twirling it in marinara sauce. "God, I'm starving," he mumbled through a full mouth.
Dante plucked a salmon roll from his tray, eyeing Leon's plate.
"You'd think after almost dying, you'd savor your food."
"Almost dying makes me hungrier," Leon shot back, spearing another meatball—
—when a chubby hand darted in, snatching it off his fork.
"Mine now," a new voice declared.
Leon blinked at the empty fork, then up at the round-faced newcomer hovering over their table. The guy—early 20s, slightly overweight, with messy brown hair—chewed loudly, sauce smeared on his chin.
"The hell?"Leon glared.
"Ray,"*the guy said, swallowing .
"And wow, these are good. You should try 'em, Dante."
Leon raised an eyebrow.
"You two know each other?"
"Not really,"Ray said, plopping into the seat beside Leon and grabbing another meatball.
"We only talked a little before the kidnapping. "
Leon snatched his plate back.
"Dude, get your own."
"Too slow, Ray said, licking his fingers.
"Besides, you've got, like, six more. Sharing is caring, mon ami."
Dante snorted. "Since when are you French?"
"Since the chef ignored me at the pasta station,"Ray said, stealing a breadstick from Dante's tray.
"Guy took one look at me and said, 'No seconds.' Rude."
Leon leaned forward. "How'd you even end up here?"
Ray shrugged.
"Probably because of my debts.... i used to be a chef ,Y'know"
Dante opened his mouth—
CRASH.
A plate shattered near the buffet. A German accent voice cut through the din:
"You can't just take my stuff, you bastard!"
Ray sighed, standing up.
"Welp. Time to see if the meatballs here are worth dying over."
The blonde, spiky-haired German with shirt wide open, four-pack glistening with a Rose tattoo carved on his neck,
sneered at the bearded man, who trembled with rage.
"I think you're blind, old man." The German tapped his Rank 12 armband. "I'll do whatever I want."
Dante wedged himself between them, hands up. "Woah, guys! Knock it off!"
"Not until he apologizes!" the bearded man barked, spittle flying.
The German laughed, sharp and mocking.
"Apologize? Me? You've got it backwards, Opa."
"WHY YOU—!" The bearded man reared back his fist—
—Dante caught his wrist. "Look, man, just apologize, and I'll give you my food, okay?"
The German rolled his eyes but nodded. "Fine, fine." He extended a hand. "Let's shake, ja?"
The bearded man reached out—
SCHLICK.
The German yanked a fork from his pocket and rammed it through the old man's palm, pinning his hand to the table.
"HERE'S YOUR APOLOGY, OPA!"
Screams erupted. Blood spurted onto abandoned plates. The German wrenched the fork free, licking his lips as the bearded man collapsed, howling.
"AHHHH!"
The old man scrambled back, clutching his fork-pierced hand. Blood dripped between his fingers, splattering on the polished floor.
"SHIT! It's BLEEDING! Somebody HELP ME!"
A bystander lurched up. "I'll get the staff—"
The German guy threw his head back laughing, his unbuttoned shirt swinging open. "You deserved it, shithead!"
Leon shoved him back, he could tell he was shorter than him.
"What the hell is your problem?!"
The German looked down, lips curling.
"Looks like you're the only one with problems, kiddo."
Behind them, Ray munched loudly on Leon's stolen meatballs, watching like it was dinner theater.
"Get him leon!"
Leon wiped his mouth, voice shaking. "All I'm saying is you shouldn't treat people like th—"
CRACK.
The German's fist slammed into Leon's left cheek, sending him sprawling.
"YOU THINK YOU'RE BETTER THAN ME NOW?!"
Dante lunged, wrapping his arms around the German's torso. "There's no need for a fight right now—"
"LET ME GO!" The German thrashed, then barked a name: "TOBI!"
A mountain of a man materialized behind Dante—shaved head, scarred knuckles—and pressed a fork to Dante's throat, the prongs dimpling his skin.
A gravelly voice rumbled: "You better let him go, Jap."
The moment Tobi released Dante, three staff members materialized from the crowd, pistols drawn. The lead guard's voice was cold, mechanized through his black mask:
"What is going on here?"
the German snapped his hands up, smirk never fading.
"Entspannen, officer! We're Just fooling around~"
His eyes locked onto Leon's bleeding lip, grinning wider.
The guard didn't lower his weapon. "I don't care what you do. Only rule? No killing.
That's a capital offense here." He jerked his chin at the wounded old man. "Take him to the nursery."
Leon pushed himself up, wiping blood from his mouth. "Tch."
The German leaned in, voice a playful whisper.
"Remember the name: Hidan.
We'll settle our score out there."
He jabbed a thumb toward the island's silhouette through the porthole.
Leon held his gaze, knuckles whitening.
"Yeah. Same to you."
Hidan threw his head back laughing, then clicked his heels together in mock salute. "Auf Wiedersehen~!"
With that, he strolled off, Tobi lumbering behind him like a shadow.
Dante rubbed his throat, the fork's indent still visible. "That guy's a walking red flag."
Ray, still chewing, tossed Leon a napkin.
"So. You gonna eat the rest of those meatballs, or…?"
"I don't think I can eat anything right now."
Dante rubbed his neck, eyes tracking Hidan's exit.
"Hidan Goldberg. Owns a casino empire in Berlin. No clue what that psycho's doing here."
Leon blinked. "How do you know that?"
"Internet," Dante shrugged. "Also, he's on Forbes' 'Most Dangerous Billionaires' list."
Just then—
"Oh my God, are you guys okay?"
A young woman pushed through the crowd, chestnut hair tied in a ponytail, her olive-green cargo pants stained with dirt.
Ray perked up, mouth full.
"Yeah, thanks for asking!"
Leon rolled his eyes. "Dude, no one was talking about you."
The woman's eyes locked onto Leon—and widened. "...Leon?"
"Huh?" Leon froze. "How do you know my—"
"Do you remember me?"
Her voice quivered slightly. "I'm Sofia. Your... ex."
Leon's mind raced.
"I remember seeing you on the ship earlier, but..."
Sofia's shoulders slumped. "So you're still ignoring me? You haven't changed, Leon." She turned to leave.
Ray whistled. "Oof."
"Wait!" Leon grabbed her wrist—gentle but firm.
"I need to talk to you. You might not believe me, but... please."
"If she really knows me, she's the key to my past."
Sofia studied his face—the desperation in his eyes, the blood on his lip. After a beat, she sighed. "...Fine. But not here."
As she led him away, Dante muttered to Ray: "Ten bucks says they dated for like, a week."
Ray snorted. "Nah. Dude's too pretty for short relationships."
***
The sea air whipped between them, carrying the salt and the weight of unspoken history. Leon's red hair danced wildly as Sofia processed his words.
"So you're saying someone drugged you, and you don't remember anything?"
Her voice trembled, hands clutching the ship's railing.
Leon nodded, eyes pleading. "Anything… anything about me will do. Just… please."
Sofia looked away, her knuckles whitening. "I'm sorry, Leon… but you were always a secretive guy."
"Then what about my last name?"
"You used a fake one in school. 'Mark Scout.'"
Leon flinched. "Why?"
"Because of your family." Sofia hugged herself.
"You'd snap if I even asked. Said it 'crossed a line.'"
Leon dragged a hand down his face, the disappointment sinking into his bones.
"Well… at least tell me what kind of person I was."
Sofia's expression shifted—somewhere between anger and sorrow.
"You were..."
[ FLASHBACK ]
Young Leon, smirking, gripped Sofia's chin, tilting her face up.
"Y'know the only reson I fell for you, Sofia?"
A tear rolled down her cheek.
He leaned in, lips brushing her ear, his whisper laced with cruelty:
"It was because I lost a bet."
[ FLASHBACK ENDS ]
Sofia swallowed hard, but her smile was bright.
"You were…
a gentle and a loving person, Leon!"
The waves Crashed below.
***
Leon jolted awake, the remnants of yesterday's conversation with Sofia clinging to his thoughts like cobwebs. Her smile—too soft, too practiced—hadn't reached her eyes.
"What was she hiding?"
He shook his head, splashed water on his face, and gulped down breakfast—stale bread and reconstituted eggs—before the piercing shriek of a bell sent him sprinting to the deck.
Captain Kirby stood ramrod straight beside a black military helicopter, its blades churning the salty air. Survivors shuffled into line, their faces gaunt, weapons clutched like lifelines.
"Listen up!" Kirby barked. "We're transporting you in four groups.
Limited resources...
"You'll jump with your gear."
Leon's grip tightened on his bow.
"Round 2.
Just don't run into Hidan... or worse, that Rank 1 monster."
Kirby's smirk was razor-thin. "Good luck, sinners."
The helicopter roared to life, lifting the first four contestants into the sky. Leon watched them shrink into specks—then vanish over the jungle's emerald canopy.