c1: Ice and Fire – Battle Royale Game
Vacation With My Stepmom
"This is the participation contract for this competition, Mr. Xia Ze. Please take a look. If everything is in order, sign here."
Xia Ze didn't reply. Instead, he silently took the contract from the official's hand and began to read with measured seriousness.
[Ice and Fire: Battle Royale Game Participation Agreement]
Party A agrees to provide Party B with a method of temporal transference and a fully functional physical vessel, adapted for survival and interaction in the world known as Westeros, derived from the epic "A Song of Ice and Fire."
Party B consents to voluntarily enter said world and participate in the high-stakes survival-based competition while assuming full legal and existential responsibility.
Rules of Engagement
Prize Distribution Guidelines
Death Clause Enforcement
The game organizer was a mysterious multidimensional entity that had descended upon Xia Ze's world over a decade prior. Unlike malevolent conquerors from interdimensional lore, they had not come to wage war or enslave humanity.
No, their aim was far stranger: to entertain themselves using humanity as pieces in a sprawling, lethal simulation.
Even more astonishing, they scrupulously abided by Earth's legal framework. That's why a signed contract was a prerequisite before entering this immersive death game. No hidden terms, no tricks only blood-soaked realism.
This time, the setting was Westeros the brutal continent of ice and fire, where even the innocent could be betrayed, and kings bled as easily as peasants. Dragons had returned, and the dead walked again beyond the Wall. It was a realm where names like Stark, Lannister, and Targaryen were written in fire, blood, and betrayal.
Xia Ze read every clause, every comma, with solemn intensity. Though the agreement wasn't particularly long, it took him nearly thirty minutes to finish.
The terms boiled down to four key points:
1. Game Introduction: This was a brutal contest taking place in the canonical world of Game of Thrones, with exactly one hundred participants. These players would be scattered across locations such as Winterfell, King's Landing, The Eyrie, and Dragonstone, places known for political intrigue, ancestral feuds, and bloody warfare.
2. Victory Conditions: Players could form alliances (up to four members) using a built-in interface. The game ended when only one alliance remained or if one alliance amassed over 10,000 points. However, unanimous agreement among surviving alliance members was required to claim final victory. Otherwise, the alliance would be forcibly disbanded a nod to the betrayals that once tore apart alliances like Robb Stark's Northern coalition or Daenerys' alliance at Dragonstone.
When victory was declared, all survivors would be automatically extracted back to their original timelines, precisely one hour after the declaration.
3. Prize Mechanics:
A solo winner would be granted a staggering sum tens of billions of dollars, a reward fitting of someone who could outlast a hundred contenders in a world where wildfire, assassins, and Valyrian steel were commonplace.
Two winners: $1 billion split evenly.
Three winners: $10 million each.
Four winners: A symbolic $1 million each.
The structure reflected the organizer's obsession with encouraging betrayal, in perfect echo of Westerosi themes like the Red Wedding or Littlefinger's manipulations.
4. Warning Clause: Death inside the game was permanent. Just like the fate of Eddard Stark, there would be no resurrection unless written into the script of gods like R'hllor. The pain was real. The end was real.
"So, Mr. Xia Ze," the game receptionist said as Xia Ze gently lowered the final page of the contract onto the table. "Any questions?"
"Of course," Xia Ze replied calmly. "If my information is correct, you've hosted multiple competitions before, and the prize pools were always significant but never… astronomical. This time, you're offering billions. Why the sudden increase?"
The receptionist smiled cryptically.
"Did you happen to notice the full name of this game, Mr. Xia Ze?"
"Ice and Fire Escape Game?" Xia Ze raised his eyebrows. "To be honest, I don't quite get the title. I've watched all your previous events, and they've always followed the classic 'Lord Battle' model build a castle, claim land, recruit soldiers. So... what's changed?"
"That's exactly it," the receptionist replied with a calm smile. "This competition is fundamentally different. In our previous 'Lordship Mode' games, players were typically assigned noble titles like Lord of the Eyrie, Warden of the North, or Castellan of Dragonstone and we provided them with fast-track development kits: starter troops, a minor castle, even claimants' rights over surrounding land. The early game was heavily accelerated."
"In those games, the risk of death dropped significantly after the early stages," the receptionist continued. "Many players who lost momentum would simply retreat to remote places say, somewhere like Mole's Town or a fishing village on the Sisters and live out the rest of the game safely until someone triggered the victory condition. They'd return as survivors, even if they weren't winners."
"But this one is different?"
"Radically." The receptionist nodded. "We're calling it the Escape Game because there's no power fantasy involved. From the moment you drop into Westeros whether it's in Flea Bottom, The Dreadfort's dungeons, or north of the Wall you're under immediate threat. There's no safety net. No time to 'build an empire.' Everyone's a target."
"This time, development resources like Valyrian weapons, dragonglass, or supply caches will be incredibly scarce. You'll need to risk your life to fight for them. Most participants may not even find a single supply drop from the auxiliary system during the game. Some will die exhausted, not in battle but from exposure or starvation just like what happened to deserters in the Haunted Forest."
"In short," he said, voice low and grave, "don't expect a grand strategy sim. Expect Battle of the Bastards meets Hardhome brutal, chaotic, survival-driven. We estimate that fewer than ten players will survive to the end."
"Can you be more specific?" Xia Ze interjected, brows furrowing. "You mentioned 'mechanisms' that would lead to exhaustion what exactly are they?"
"Of course not." The receptionist shook his head with a trained corporate smile. "Game mechanics remain confidential until entry. Any specifics must be discovered organically by the players."
With that, he extended a stylus toward Xia Ze. "I've explained the risk. You can still withdraw before the roster is finalized. Otherwise, you may sign and proceed."
"You know I don't have a choice." Xia Ze's lips curved into a bitter smile. He took the pen and signed his name with steady hands.
His medical diagnosis left him with less than three months to live and a mountain of unpaid treatment costs. This game, no matter how deadly, was his only shot. Even if he died inside it, surviving for three months in another world would be more than he could ever ask for. A temporary escape from reality was a win.
So when the invitation came, he'd accepted without hesitation. The preliminary trials had been brutal psychological assessments, combat simulations, and immersive situational exams modeled after King's Landing riots, the siege of Riverrun, and the Great Sept explosion.
Due to health limitations, Xia Ze couldn't attend the physical competition test, but he'd ranked in the top 1% for the other two categories. Out of nearly ten thousand applicants, he had secured a spot in the final lineup.
"Very well, Mr. Xia Ze," the receptionist said as he tapped something on his sleek obsidian tablet. "You're officially confirmed as one of our primary contestants. Please wait in the lounge. Once all player statuses are processed, you'll be escorted to the Operations Room."
Xia Ze didn't respond. He simply leaned back and closed his eyes, conserving strength.
Moments later, the receptionist's voice broke the silence again. "Mr. Xia Ze, 27 contestants have withdrawn from the main roster. Their slots were filled by the highest-ranking reserve applicants."
"Only twenty-seven?" Xia Ze's eyes opened slightly, a touch of surprise in them. "So barely a third backed out?"
"Haha, Mr. Xia Ze," the receptionist chuckled. "You must remember many of our participants aren't from safe countries like yours. Some are from regions more dangerous than Slaver's Bay. For them, risking a 90% death rate in exchange for the grand prize is no different from daily life."
Xia Ze gave a bitter, sarcastic laugh.
"Also, I have some unfortunate news," the receptionist added, tone neutral. "The two allies you previously arranged have formally withdrawn. You'll likely be starting the game alone."
Xia Ze's heart sank.
He'd expected this. His two allies were fellow Chinese nationals with comfortable lives. Rationally, it made perfect sense they wouldn't stake their lives in this nightmare. But knowing that didn't make the abandonment sting any less. His starting difficulty had just increased exponentially.
"Mr. Xia Ze," the receptionist prompted politely, "if you're ready, please follow me."
"…Good."
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