He wakes up on a cold stone floor. Around him are hundreds of thousands of people, all wearing the same expression—some confused, some scared, and some oddly happy.
He sits down, overwhelmed, thoughts and images pounding at the back of his head like the worst headache imaginable.
Then he sees a tall man with blonde hair.
"What's the matter, kid?" the man asks with a smile.
"It's nothing… just thinking," King replies.
The blonde man extends his hand and helps him up. "What's your name?"
"It's King. The name's King."
The man smiles. "Hi, King. My name is—"
Before he can finish, the floor beneath them crumbles, and they start falling.
"What the hell!!!"
They crash into a lake and crawl out, soaked.
King starts laughing.
The man stares at him. "What's so funny?"
King grins. "That was fun."
The man hunches over, muttering to himself, "This kid is crazy."
They start walking around, trying to figure out where they are.
Suddenly, an echoing voice rings in their heads:
**"Attention, attention, to every insignificant human.
We have taken something from your world—no matter how miserable it may be.
You'll be playing a game called Capture the Flag.
It's a fight to the death. Either capture the enemy's flag or survive long enough.
If you don't… well, you'll be ripped to shreds.
Now, isn't that fun?"**
They keep walking until they find themselves standing in a field of flowers. There, they see a man sitting alone. He stands up, laughing.
"Isn't this incredible? We get to kill with no consequences," he moans. "It's amazing."
He pulls out a knife, pointing it at both of them, trying to decide who to attack first. Then he lunges at King.
King barely jumps back in time, earning only a scratch. This was his second fight—but something about it felt different. He was actually scared this time. The man wasn't holding back. He was trying to kill.
King froze.
Why can't I move? Why am I so scared? he thought.
The blonde-haired man stepped in, intercepting the attacker with martial arts.
King gritted his teeth and screamed, "Why am I letting people fight my battles for me? This isn't the way I want to live. I have to move!"
He charged at the attacker with a sword in hand, locking eyes with him.
"That look… that face…" the attacker moaned. "I want to see how long you can keep that face after I cut you open."
King swung his sword, aiming for the man's neck, but the attacker dodged. The miss, however, gave his friend the perfect opening. The blonde man landed a gut punch, knocking the attacker back.
He turned to King with a grin. "I like your style, King."
Then he ran at the attacker again, striking him in the gut, following up with three rapid punches to the face, and finishing with a firm grab of the shirt and a devastating headbutt that knocked the man out cold.
They fist-bumped, both smiling.
King rubbed his chin, something clicking in his memory. "Hey… you still didn't tell me your name."
The blonde-haired man smiled.
"It's Skul… no, it's August. Call me August."
King smiled back. "Okay, August."
Far away, where the opposing team's flag is, a man sits in a field of bodies with four men standing behind him. He grabs the flag, and it glows red.
Instantly, King and August are transported to the top of a snowy mountain.
They look up at the sky, now even more confused about what's going on.
Without a word, they start walking—knowing they have to keep moving forward. Next time, they might not be lucky enough to survive.