It hadn't even been five minutes since the ultimatum dropped, but Zero's voice already sliced through the air like a knife bored of waiting for meat.
"Alright, I'm done waitin'," she said, all casual, legs crossed like royalty with murder on her mind. "Five minutes? Yeah. So what? Life's too damn short to sit around while kids try to grow a spine."
Some kids flinched. Some looked relieved.
And one of them—of course—just smiled like this was dessert.
Rivea twirled an imaginary spoon between her fingers. "Fair. I was already falling asleep thinking up cool ways to die if I didn't get picked."
Zero stood up, face unreadable as always.
Just the gleam in her glasses gave away that signature bite of hers, reflecting the room like a wolf watching sheep.
She pointed at one of the groups.
"Team 05. Dolls, blood, and booby traps. Y'all are on the chopping block today. Five names. Five heads. But the executioners? Team 06. Speak up. One by one. Name and reason. Make it sharp. No boring crap."
These kids weren't big on words. But when they did talk… it felt like reading a death script written long before they were even born.
Sikk pointed straight at Alric, a ghost of a smirk on his lips. "The dolls don't just sit still. They talk. Even when he doesn't. That's more honest than most people I know."
Vina spoke like she was choking on her own thoughts. Voice barely there. She picked Jurell, no hesitation. "His drawings... they move. The lines breathe. If he leads, the team's gonna turn into a painting. A bleeding one. That talks back."
Oxa kept tapping invisible keys in the air, like her fingers were stuck in a loop. She went with Deno. "There's a minefield inside him. Every step's a gamble. And that tension? It's... beautiful."
Linx laughed before talking. Eyes lit up like fireworks behind storm clouds.
"I freaking love landmines. Those tiny booms? Make me feel alive. I'm pickin' Trax. Let's blow up together."
Harker stayed quiet for way too long. Then finally whispered, like death itself might hear.
"Mina. Her fear's louder than words. People like that? They smell death before anyone else. That's useful."
Out of twenty-five messed-up voices, one name floated to the top. Not 'cause he screamed the loudest. Not 'cause his creepy puppet was doin' cartwheels in the middle of some circus act.
Alric – 7 votes.
The kid with glasses didn't smile.
Didn't blink either. But the little freakshow on his shoulder? That thing nodded… then giggled, high-pitched and greasy like static in your ear. "Finally… our stage."
Jurell – 6 votes. Hands dripping red. He was scribbling something into the floor, and the thing he drew? It stared right back at him.
Mina – 5 votes. Shaking. But when the moment hit, she didn't flinch. Her eyes were… gone. Not blind, just hollow like a basement window.
Deno & Trax – 4 votes. Didn't even look at each other. They didn't give a damn who won, as long as something exploded before sunrise.
Zero didn't clap. Didn't throw a "good job" or even blink with interest. She just crossed out a name on her clipboard and muttered—"Team 05's got a head. Next lineup, let's roll."
Rivea wasn't just some psychotic popularity contest. It was a mirror. And that doll on Alric's shoulder? Yeah, it wasn't the only one in the room that stayed alive... on something that wasn't human anymore.
Zero's voice cut through the cold air, louder this time but still chill in tone. Eyes half-narrowed, laser-focused. She wasn't just talking—she was watching everything.
"Alright. We got a head for Team 03. Next. Keep it movin'."
The board spun like it had a mind of its own, coughing up results faster than anyone could keep up with—like the sky twitching just before a storm throws hands.
Sol – 7 votes.
Sol was strange. Like... the good kind of strange. The kind that doesn't die first. Normal kids? They get picked off easy. But Sol? Sol looked like he told Death to wait outside until he was done vibing.
Brikka – 5 votes.
That cracked grin of Brikka's? Might look like a joke—but people who can dance with chaos don't really need punchlines. Not in a world like this.
Drein – 5 votes.
The boy sounded like haunted bones in a metal can. Just looking at him reminded you of some creepy-ass game you never wanna play again. Or maybe never should've played to begin with.
Fen – 4 votes.
Fen didn't talk. Didn't have to. One look from him and people started remembering things they swore they'd buried. He cornered with his stare.
Thy – 2 votes.
Voting for Thy felt like jumping off a cliff just to see what happens. Back then, folks feared boredom. Now? Silence is the real horror movie.
Zero's gaze flicked toward Rivea, catching the girl's blank expression like it was pinned in place. No reaction. No surprise. Just another chess move in whatever darker game she was playing under the surface.
Team 03 Voting Results:
Sol – 7
Brikka – 5
Drein – 5
Fen – 4
Thy – 2
Team Leader: Sol
Zero gave the board a lazy glance, like it owed her rent. One team done, one name at the top. "Now then," she said, pulling in a slow breath, "Team 04. Chop chop. We got plenty of time to waste."
The choices might've sounded like whispers now, soft in the ear—but the world they were headed into? It didn't care who chose who.
Sooner or later, they'd all bleed the same.
The room hadn't even cooled off from the last voice. Names were still being called. But control? Yeah, that had already peeled off like old paint.
Gio and Vale moved at the same time—quiet, pale, like two smudges from the same cracked mirror. One veered left, the other right. Smooth like static crawling under the skin, they ended up right behind Alyen.
First pinch? Nothing. Second? Left a red mark. Third one...
Blood. It rolled down Alyen's arm slow, like spilled ink bleeding into white fabric. They watched. Tilted their heads. Then pinched each other—deadpan faces, eyes lit with one question:
How fast does she heal? Alyen didn't speak. Not right away.
That sweet springtime smile still sat on her face—too warm, too polite. But her arm moved. Too fast.
THUD.
Gio flew back first—caught an elbow under the ribs, folded like a chair. Vale followed right after, yanked by the hair and fed a knee straight to the jaw. They hit the floor in sync. Same pose. Same blank expressions. But their eyes? Blinking slow. Off-rhythm. Like they were sending code.
Alyen stood between them. Half-healed arm dripping pink. Shoulders loose, spine tight. Smile? Still blooming.
"If you wanna test something," she said lightly, "just let me know. So I can prep a funeral bouquet."
Kael busted out laughing from across the room. "Damn... she's pretty when she snaps."
Rivea didn't move. Just noted it down in her head: Alyen, the flower girl, rips things up when you bruise the petals.
Solen glanced up, bored, then went back to filing her nails with a shard of glass she'd found who-knows-where. Noz stood behind Alyen, one hand on her back like, "don't do it again... but if you do, I'm watching."
Zero didn't say a damn thing. Maybe on purpose. Maybe she was just enjoying the mess like popcorn popping in slow motion—one by one.
Gio and Vale picked themselves up, dead calm, rewinding like a weird dance glitch. Vale pinched Gio's shoulder. Gio flicked Vale's chin. Back to code mode.
Then that smile. Thin. Tight. Game on, sweetheart. See, the world doesn't need time to fall apart. Sometimes, all it takes is a flick.
"We votin' or burnin' this place down first?" Kael asked, laid out against the wall, chewing some candy from who-knows-where. "Chaos got my vote. But if the roof caves in, I can't count ballots."
Finally, Zero spoke—half amused, half threat. "One more punch and I'm resetting y'all into one group corpse."
Alyen didn't flinch. Neither did Gio and Vale. But they breathed in—same second. Silence fell again. Not the cozy kind. The kind right before claws rip out.
And the roll call kept going. "Team 04 – Choir of Teeth. Step up." They had no idea that little mess back there? That was just warm-up.
Names kept coming. No drumroll. No cheer. Just the crinkle of folded paper, smoothed flat like the world already knew who was stepping up and who was just there to watch it burn.
Lucienne stood. Said nothing. But the air listened. Her eyes were too calm. Her lips didn't bother to smile. The dead flower in her fingers brushed the air—and somehow, the smell hit sharp... like a warning in perfume.
Sikk kept his head down, clown mask cracked at the edge. But that grin? Still there. Full of paint, blood, or maybe both. He turned to Linx and Oxa. Gave a tiny nod that said "Keep going if I vanish."
And Solen just sat there. Like leadership was an unpaid side gig. He didn't look at anyone, but somehow every eye ended up on him.
Three leaders. Three keys in the wrong piano. Lucienne—sweet scent, slow death.
Sikk—laughs until the wounds open.
Solen—quiet like a knife just sharpened.
And Rivea? Still. Watching. One by one. Not jealous. Not proud. Just... hungry. Not yet time to eat. "New game's starting," Kael whispered behind her, grin lopsided. "And this time... we're not the pawns."
No applause. Just footsteps. Toward whatever was waiting behind the next door.