I moved forward. Gray stretched endlessly around me, and the sense of my own body was fading away. Suddenly, I found myself in that same space — the cosmos, dotted with bright stars shining all around.
I looked down at my clothes, a striped prison uniform. My feet were bare. The floor beneath me was glass, and I could see its edge clearly.
Am I standing on a platform?
Looking around, I saw other people who were also glancing nervously.
Challenge name: "The Glass Bridge."
A voice echoes in my head — a different one this time, robotic but clear:
Objective: Cross to the other side.
A beam of light fell from one of the stars in the night sky, like a spotlight illuminating a platform. It was the same size as the one I was standing on.
I looked up and saw a bright light that blinded my eyes. Probably one of the stars lighting this place.
I glanced ahead.
How do I get there? It's so far.
The voice spoke again:
Game rules:
1. Cross to the other platform by using the bridge. Wait for the end of the game on it.
Before my eyes, a blinding light appeared. When my eyes adjusted, I saw a bridge stretching forward.
2. The bridge is made of glass slabs, each about one square meter. With each step, you have to choose between two slabs — left or right.
3. Using force against other participants is prohibited, as is jumping over the tiles. Breaking the rules will result in punishment.
I listened carefully, trying not to miss anything.
4. Step on the wrong tile, and you fall down — into a sea of African nomadic ants.
I stepped to the edge with the others. All I could hear was the rustling and scraping of countless ants.
There are so many of them... I can't see anything...
Below was only unknown darkness.
5. Only one person can stand on a tile at a time. The total time limit is 2 hours. After stepping on a tile, you have 1 minute to move to the next one. If you stay longer, the tile breaks and is replaced with the same one.
A timer appeared on the far platform: 02:00:00 — but it hadn't started counting down yet.
6. The announcement of the punishment and its details will be made upon rule violation. Everyone wears a bracelet. When you step on a tile, a one-minute countdown starts on your bracelet.
I looked at my bracelet — it was made of mist, and I didn't notice when it appeared. The display showed 60 seconds.
7. There are 30 participants. The bridge consists of 100 glass tiles, but only 50 are real. It's impossible to tell which one is real.
8. Each participant is randomly assigned a number from 1 to 30.
I glanced at my uniform — the number 23 was stitched on my chest.
9. Numbers don't determine the order of movement. The order is decided by a lottery machine — a transparent drum with numbered balls. After spinning, one ball falls through a hole, selecting the participant who must move next. The device will appear and disappear during the game, it will be protected by a barrier.
So everything depends on luck?
10. You can move independently at any time. Every 4 minutes, the lottery machine selects a number. The selected participant has 3 minutes to leave the platform. Staying on it longer or jumping back is prohibited and will result in disqualification — death.
This game is going to be harder than I thought.
That's all... Enjoy the game, and good luck.
The voice vanished, and the timer began its countdown: 01:59:59.
And so the game began.
We stood on the platform, all of us still processing the rules we'd just heard. I looked around.
I scanned the group. Most looked older than me — maybe over twenty-eight. A few stood out right away: three Black participants, a boy around my age, and one old man.
"Shall we come up with a plan and help each other?" the old man asked calmly.
His voice was gentle, steady. He had to be over eighty.
Is he Japanese?
I'm from Tokyo—I recognized the accent. His uniform bore the number 01.
"An old man? Did you just say plan?" a voice barked out.
A man stepped forward — tall, strong, with a carelessly shaved beard and jet-black hair. His muscles bulged beneath his tight clothes. The number 17 was stitched into his chest.
"Yeah, I got a plan," he continued, grinning. "How about all of you go forward?"
There is enough of this kind of garbage in the world.
"Pitiful," someone muttered behind the crowd.
The muscular man spun around. "Who the hell said that?! Coward! Step out!"
"Calm down. That was me," a guy my age stepped forward.
"My eardrums might burst from your pig squealing," he added, voice steady.
He wore the number 07. Gray hair. Cold, piercing blue eyes.
A chill ran down my spine.
Why am I trembling?
I couldn't take my eyes off him as he calmly walked up to participant 17.
Sensing tension, the old man stepped back.
"You're not scared of me?" the big guy asked.
"Who should I be afraid of?" the boy replied with eerie calm. "An alcoholic, a loser, and maybe a drug addict in your face."
I watched his back. He looked… completely at peace.
"Didn't your parents teach you how to talk to elders?" the man said, clenching his fists.
"I prefer to teach myself," the boy answered. "Respect has to be earned."
I kept watching. I didn't need to interfere.
"I remembered your face. If we both survive this, I'll find you and…"
"Kill me?" the boy interrupted with a smirk. "You're weak — physically and mentally. A coward who lacks time, courage, or purpose. And you're threatening me?"
Number 17's fists clenched.
Guy provoking him on purpose.
"Actually…" the boy went on, "if you're threatening me, then I guess I'll do the same."
"What…?" the man replied, confused.
"Right," the boy said. "If I make it out and you don't, that'll be better for you. You won't have to see what I'll do to your family — your mother, father, sister, brother… Wife? Husband? I don't know who you are with..."
"You bastard!" the man shouted.
"Don't interrupt. I'm not finished yet. You have children?"
The man fell silent. That said enough.
"Why so quiet? Nothing to…"
A loud crack.
The teenager was thrown two meters back, blood streaming from his nose. The man had punched him before he could finish his phrase.
Rule violation: Participant number 17, a loud voice echoed in my mind.
Details: Marked as a "Subject." To prevent further violence, your hands, legs, and face will be restrained. Movement will be restricted.
The voice faded.
I turned to the man. Mist began to wrap around him. When it cleared, his body was locked in restraints — hands and feet cuffed, a muzzle over his mouth.
"What the fuck?! What is this?!" he growled.
"Perfect," someone muttered. "Now we can use him as the first one to go."
"What? Why him?" I asked.
"Look again." The same voice — female, but louder, as if someone was approaching.
I did. Above his head — like in a video game — glowed red with his nickname: Subject.
"He's not a person anymore," the girl said. "We can hit him as much as we want. He's technically still a player, but now… he counts as a subject."
It was the blue-haired girl. Number 19.
"Who's in favor?" she asked.
Everyone except me and the guy who had just gotten up after the impact raised their hands.
Only now did I recognize her. She was beautiful, though clearly over thirty. I'd seen her on magazine covers — and online.
"You're a model, right?" I asked.
"Yes," she replied. "My name is Zoe."
"I'm Toru. Nice to meet you."
In a game like this, it's no surprise we might run into celebrities. Billionaires, too. But deep down, they're all just people — same as us.
"So, we've decided. You'll go first. Refuse, and we'll throw you off."
The man froze, slowly stepping backward with his back to the edge of the platform.
He might actually fall.
Just then, the boy who'd been hit passed by me. Blood still ran from his nose.
I don't know why… but I could see him so clearly, like the world slowed down around him.
I got goosebumps.
Is this all because of him?
The boy silently approached the restrained man. Everyone's eyes followed their every move.
The boy was shorter, slimmer. But he grabbed the man by the front of his uniform and pushed him.
"What are you doing?" Zoe asked, calm but wary.
The guy ignored her, leading the man straight to the edge of the platform.
After a few steps, the boy stopped, a man who could do nothing stood on the edge, trying to grab onto something with his toes. His body was almost completely bound.
The man turned, looked down, and saw only darkness — hearing nothing but the rustle of insects. His skin went pale, sweat pouring down his face.
"I'm sorry!" he stammered. "I was wrong! Please!"
The boy said nothing. He just held onto the man's uniform, pressing his left hand against his own lowered face.
Is he wiping the blood… or holding his nose?
I couldn't tell. I stepped forward instinctively.
"I'll go! I'll step onto the bridge! I'll keep moving..." said the man, who suddenly fell silent.
I stopped. Not because I wanted to. My body simply… screamed at me not to go forward.
My gaze moved — not toward the boy, but to the man. His eyes.
They were filled with raw terror.
The boy silently pushed him into the darkness.
"AAAGH!"
After a couple of seconds, his screams disappeared.
Had he reached the bottom?
"AAAGH!!!"
No… the scream only grew louder. It seemed as if he was straining every vocal cord to the limit, and they were tearing — his screams reached us from the very bottom.
He was being devoured alive.
Zoe gasped. "Why… why did you do that?!"
The boy, who'd had his back turned this whole time, slowly turned around.
"This is a game of luck," he said. "Let's trust fate."
Now I understood why my body had reacted the way it did.
It was instinct.
Right in front of me was a true psychopath. He didn't wipe the blood off, nor did he cover his nose.
His face was smeared with his own dried blood, forming something like a twisted smile.
Right then, just after his words... The lottery machine appeared before us.
It meant… it was time to choose the person who would have to leave the platform in four minutes.