Surviving the Death Game

Seraphina's mangled remains slammed against my boots.

Just yesterday, she snatched the perfect role of his "first love"—the tyrant's only salvation and the source of his sick, twisted obsession.

Her redemption progress bar skyrocketed straight to 99%.

Viewers in the livestream flooded the chat, swearing she would have the tyrant eating out of the palm of her hand within three days.

The class president followed right behind her, locking in the role of the "Hand of the King"—a politician throwing around big principles. His progress shot up to 80%.

All 36 of us in the class stared dead at the clearance condition.

As long as just one person maxed out the redemption value to 100%, every single one of us would make it out of this death game alive.

We thought the finish line was right at our fingertips. Until early this morning. The first batch of 20 students who entered the instance were slaughtered overnight.

Seraphina, the girl sitting at 99% progress, suffered the most gruesome fate of all.

Her limbs were mercilessly hacked off, her torso shoved into a cramped glass display case like a broken mannequin. Chapter 1 The faces of those who remained were drained of color.

The scene in front of us was a literal hell on earth.

The people who were standing right in front of us yesterday, assuring us they were safe, were now strewn across the floor in grotesque angles. Blood painted the ground red.

Some were hacked into several pieces.

Seraphina's limbs were mercilessly severed, and she was violently shoved into a cramped glass display case like a broken mannequin. "Urgh…" Someone finally broke, rushing to the side and dryheaving.

Others' legs gave out, collapsing into the pools of blood. They clamped their hands fiercely over their faces, letting out voicecracking shrieks. My hands trembled slightly.

I was supposedly one of the calm ones, but at the end of the day, I was just a high school senior.

Yesterday, our entire class had been on a charter bus for a field trip when we careened off a cliff. We woke up, and everyone was here.

Right in front of us, a socalled System materialized. It told us we were already dead. Clearing this game was our only ticket back. It was a tyrant redemption game.

We could choose our own roles.

Out of the 36 students in our class, if even just one person maxed out their redemption progress to 100%, the System would deem it a victory for all of us.

The game was livestreamed across all platforms. The System handed each of us a strange mobile phone.

It allowed us to communicate with each other, watch the live feed, and see the viewers' comments. We could only watch, though; we were muted from typing anything into the chat.

There was also a points mall where we could redeem items we wanted. Everyone started with 12 points.

The second the System finished its introduction, people started volunteering, picking their roles and jumping right into the instance.

That included Seraphina and the class president. Seraphina spent 1 point to redeem a fragment of the tyrant's memory.

The screen flashed: a woman dressed in lavish aristocratic gowns saving the beggar tyrant just as he was about to be beaten to death.

The live comments filled in the missing pieces. [That first love was the tyrant's only salvation in the dark mud, the source of his sick, twisted obsession.

If it wasn't for her back then, the tyrant would have died on the streets.] [The very first thing the tyrant did after seizing the throne was dispatch his most coldblooded royal assassination squad to hunt down the whereabouts of that first love.

They just never found her.] [Rumor has it the tyrant never took a queen because he's been waiting for her.] Seraphina's eyes instantly lit up, her lips curling into an uncontrollable smirk.

Just as she prepared to enter the game, I clamped my hand tightly around her wrist. I bit down hard on my back molars.

My stomach dropped like I had swallowed a massive block of ice, my palms slick with cold sweat. The System said we were the seventh batch of people here.

That meant the previous six batches had failed. Considering the size of our group, at least a hundred players must have participated in this game already.

How was it possible that not a single one had succeeded? I shook my head at Seraphina, silently pleading with her to wait and see how things played out.

She just patted my hand. "Someone has to go first." "Even if I crash and burn, as long as one of us makes it, we all survive. Relax.

I'll bring back good news." Before I could stop her, Seraphina stepped into the game without a second thought. At first, it played out exactly like the chat predicted.

The second the tyrant laid eyes on Seraphina, the redemption value skyrocketed to 95%. After exchanging a few sweet words with her, it spiked to 99%.

One step away from the finish line. Everyone let out a long breath, our rigid shoulders finally slumping. Meanwhile, good news rolled in from the others.

The class president had chosen the role of the Hand of the King; just by running his mouth as a straightforward politician, he pushed his redemption value to 80%.

Another girl picked the role of the tyrant's biological little sister. All she did was act a little spoiled, and her progress bar hit 50%.

Some of the people who held back and stayed in the lobby started kicking themselves. "If I knew redeeming a tyrant was a walk in the park, I would've jumped in too." But my heart pounded harder against my ribs.

I couldn't shake the gnawing feeling that we had missed a lethal detail. Chapter 2 We waited from daylight into the dead of night.

Seraphina's redemption progress was stuck dead at 99%. A few others saw minor bumps in their percentages.

People guessed she just needed to wait for the tyrant to officially marry his 'first love' to max out the bar.

Exhaustion dragged some down, and they eventually passed out to get some rest. I pulled out my phone and shot Seraphina a private message to check on her. She never replied.

By the next day, I was staring at her mangled corpse. The live comments didn't stop rolling. [Lmao, Seraphina picked the easiest role to die in.

Sure, that 'first love' saved the tyrant back then, but she only dragged him back to her manor to use him as a punching bag. The tyrant despises her guts.

That's why he's been hunting her down.] [And that idiot who picked the Hand of the King?

Why would a tyrant ever need a politician throwing around big principles and telling him what to do?

Anyone who dares challenge his absolute authority in front of everyone is guaranteed to be torn to shreds.] [As for that spoiled little princess, the tyrant didn't keep her around to play house.

He's just jealous that she was born with everything he ever craved.

He's going to crush her pride, piece by piece.] Right then, I finally saw the message Seraphina sent me at some ungodly hour of the morning.

It was just one word. "RUN!!!" Before anyone could process it, the System's voice echoed again. A thirtyminute countdown materialized in thin air right in front of us.

The bloodred numbers glowed like a death curse, chilling to the bone. A guy finally snapped. He pointed a trembling finger at the sky. "What is your endgame?

What do you want from us by trapping us here?!" The System stayed dead silent. "Why did they die?! Why?! You only said we'd die if we failed the game!

You never said the tyrant would butcher us!" Still nothing but silence. "I quit! I'm done playing!

I'm going home!" The System finally spoke. [Player 18, are you sure you want to quit the game?] [Your physical body in the real world is already dead.

Quitting before completing the redemption will result in immediate termination.] A few classmates grabbed his arms, begging him not to do anything stupid.

But he was already pushed over the edge. He shook them off and glared up. "I'm sure." His body was cleaved cleanly in half. A single eyeball popped out, rolling across the floor.

He slowly reached out a hand toward the nearest student before an invisible force diced his body into smaller chunks. Body parts flew across the room.

He didn't even have time to whimper. The student standing closest was drenched in hot blood. He stood frozen, eyes wide, before the reality finally snapped him awake minutes later.

A raw, piercing shriek ripped from his throat. The live chat exploded into a sick carnival. [Good riddance! Look at that blood splatter angle.

The System's punishments are getting so stylish.] [Look at them, someone literally wet their pants. That's nothing.

The longer you wait to enter the game, the harder the redemption gets.] [Hehe, the tyrant already knows the 'redeemers' exist.

I can't wait to see what these rats do next.] My eyebrows pulled together hard. The people hiding behind those screens were no different from psycho serial killers.

Seeing that no one else dared to make a sound, the System spoke again. [Please select the next batch of players to enter the game before the countdown ends.] [If no one enters, it will be deemed a game failure.

I will execute punishments on all remaining personnel.] We looked at each other, our teeth chattering uncontrollably as heavy, raspy gasps tore from our throats.

The System wasn't done. [Current death toll: 21. Leftover points: 195. Distributing equally among the remaining 15 players.] Right after, my phone screen lit up.

A notification popped up: +13 points. Total: 25. [Spend 75 points to redeem the memories of the deceased players?] Chapter 3 We exchanged looks, giving curt nods.

Everyone pitched in five points to redeem the memory fragments. The screen flickered. Seraphina's memory played first. The tyrant's hand was clamped around Seraphina's throat.

He studied her closely before his voice slithered out. "You aren't Seraphina, are you? Who are you? Or rather, who are all of you?

What is your purpose for appearing by my side?" Seraphina must have pieced together the truth about his socalled 'first love.' Her eyes burned with raw defiance as she locked onto his. "I… I am… Seraphina… I came because…" He couldn't quite catch the rest.

He leaned in closer. Seraphina lunged, sinking her teeth into his ear. She ripped off a massive chunk of flesh. "Rot in hell!!!" The tyrant's face darkened into a lethal mask.

His fingers crushed her windpipe, releasing the pressure only at the exact second she was about to suffocate.

He repeated this sick game over and over, finally tossing her to the floor like garbage.

Clinging to her last ragged breath, she pulled out her phone and fired off that single message to me.

The second it sent, the tyrant approached, his blade dragging against the floorboards. He hacked off her limbs.

Then, inch by agonizing inch, he peeled the skin from her face, watching her writhe until the pain finally killed her. The other memories were a mirror image of the same butchery.

A slideshow of the tyrant inventing new, grotesque ways to slaughter them. He knew the "redeemers" existed. He just didn't know how many of us there were.

So he went on a blind, paranoid killing spree. Overnight, he piled up a mountain of corpses, yet his smile was as innocent as a child's.

He lay curled up in the pile of dead bodies, clutching his sword to his chest like a kid desperate for a security blanket. None of us stepped forward.

The 15 of us left stared at him, our nails biting into our palms, stomach acid bubbling into our throats. Inside the royal city, people deadbolted their doors.

Some huddled in dark, damp corners, shivering. Others clamped their hands over their mouths, suppressing even the slightest whimper.

Outside the city walls, displaced refugees flooded the lands. Driven to total despair, starving peasants had started cannibalizing each other.

The piles of bones stretched out so far they formed a rotting ocean. All of this was the direct result of the tyrant's reign.

Why did a merciless, slaughtering psychopath like him deserve to be redeemed? Blood pounded behind my eyes. I locked a lethal glare onto the System.

The System seemed to catch my stare.

Its icy, mechanical voice buzzed. [Player 26, do you wish to enter the game instance?] Before I could open my mouth, the Class Rep stepped in front of me.

She was the only student council member left in the room. Pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose, she spoke up. "I'm entering the instance." I jolted, shaking my head at her.

But she just offered a small smile. "I'm the Class Rep. It's my job to look out for everyone. Besides, I have a theory.

Let's see if it holds water." She laid it out for us smoothly. "The 20 who went in last time picked highprofile, wealthy roles. And they all crashed and burned.

Maybe that's the catch." "Aristocrats are prime targets on the tyrant's radar. But what if I pick a lowly maid? The System never gave us a time limit.

We can play the long game." "Slowly wear down his defenses.

Since the tyrant had such a miserable upbringing, he must have some shred of empathy left for the peasants and servants shivering at the bottom of the food chain, right?" After she finished, she discreetly slid her gaze toward the live chat.

I followed her eyes. The chat was blowing up. [Looks like we've got a smart one here. I remember a player from two batches ago who took this exact route.

They were inches away from pulling it off.] [Why is nobody picking the tyrant's harem?

The tyrant hasn't butchered a single girl in the harem yet.] [Is anyone gonna set up a group chat to share these clips?

I got a huge stash ready to trade.] I chewed on the information flashing across the screen. Inches away from pulling it off. So where exactly did they screw up?

Chapter 4 The success rate of this theory seemed vastly higher than before, but my gut screamed that we were still walking straight into a death trap.

Seeing the Class Rep blow all her points on a lifesaving crucifix for this massive gamble, I lunged forward to stop her. "Give me a minute.

Let me think this through." The Class Rep shook her head, tilting her chin toward the countdown timer.

In the blink of an eye, the bloodred numbers had bled down to three minutes. "We're out of time. We have to make a call.

I'm taking the role of a lowly laundry maid in the Royal City.

Anyone coming with me?" A girl in the crowd slowly raised a trembling hand. "Didn't the live chat say the tyrant hasn't butchered anyone in his harem?

I'll roll the dice on a concubine role." I shot her a frantic head shake. "You can't trust the chat." A bitter laugh escaped her lips. "It's not like we have a choice, right?" The words died in my throat.

A few others in the crowd locked in their roles. In the end, six people stepped into the instance together. Three girls, three guys.

The Class Rep and another girl went in as laundry maids. The last girl chose the newly favored concubine.

The remaining three guys chose to be lowly male servants and dungeon guards. The game resumed. All six of them walked on eggshells.

The tyrant was fiercely paranoid; one wrong look, and they'd be marked as a 'redeemer' and executed on the spot.

The girl who picked the newly favored concubine redeemed court social skills.

Every day, she fluttered around like a social butterfly, serving delicate English black tea to kiss up to those in power.

Her redemption progress was the highest among the six, sitting at 25%. And the tyrant genuinely hadn't suspected her.

As for the three guys, their progress was ticking up slightly faster than the Class Rep's, but stuck at the very bottom of the food chain, they barely had room to make a move.

Three months dragged by. The concubine's progress bar hit 55%. The Class Rep and the guys were sitting at 27% and 36%. A collective, ragged breath of relief swept through the lobby.

It looked like the Class Rep's theory was dead on. It was a slow grind, but it was safe. But the icy knot in my stomach refused to untighten.

I fired off another message to the Class Rep. "Watch your back." Another three months bled away. The Class Rep's group all crossed the 50% mark. And the concubine soared past 72%.

But just like Seraphina, the second she hit 72%, the bar froze dead. It wasn't until days later that the horrifying reality slammed into us.

The reason the concubine's progress had flatlined. She had been dead for five days.

By the time her corpse was dumped back in our lobby, the sickening stench of rot was already clinging to her skin.

I stared at the System, my pupils vibrating. "Why didn't you announce her death immediately?!" The System's voice remained a mechanical void. [Because she just died.] [Over the past few days, she still possessed a trace of breath.

It could not be classified as termination.] My eyes locked onto the gaping holes in her flesh and the maggots squirming inside them. She was a delicate girl.

A simple paper cut in class used to make her whine for minutes. But here, she was relentlessly tortured for five agonizing days before her body finally gave out.

The agony she must have swallowed. "Did the tyrant figure out she was a redeemer?" I glared at the System. It seemed to glitch in hesitation before spitting out a denial. [No.

The tyrant was simply in a foul mood that day, and she happened to deliver pastries at the wrong time.] A harsh, mocking scoff ripped from my throat. "When is that psycho ever in a good mood?!

A butcher who treats human lives like dirt—what gives you the right to drag innocent people in to redeem him?!

Monsters like him belong in hell!" "And you, this sick System, and every single freak laughing in that chat—you can all rot in hell with him!" The System stayed dead silent.

The live chat just laughed harder. Chapter 5 [This is the first time the tyrant has butchered someone in his harem. Setting precedents now!] [Fun, fun!

I wonder how many different execution methods the rest of them will collect.] I lunged at the System's holographic projection, my teeth grinding together so hard my jaw ached.

Someone grabbed my arms, holding me back, shouting that there was a major update on the Class Rep's end.

While delivering clothes to the tyrant, the Class Rep stumbled straight into an assassin's ambush.

She threw herself into the line of fire without a second thought, taking the hit for the tyrant. Her redemption value shot straight to 70%.

The blade pierced right through the Class Rep's heart. Luckily, she had redeemed the LifeSaving Cross in advance, and the System forcibly locked in her last breath.

The LifeSaving Cross simulated the normal physical trauma of a fatal wound, but it kept the reaper at bay.

After three grueling days bedridden, the Class Rep barely scraped past the danger zone. The tyrant visited her personally, asking what reward she desired.

The Class Rep's pupils vibrated, locking in a dead stare with the tyrant.

Her spine remained dead straight, like a wolf backed into a corner but refusing to yield. "I… I don't want a reward," she breathed out. "I only beg His Majesty to help me exact my vengeance." She laid out the tragic backstory she had fabricated in advance.

Her parents were murdered by greedy relatives who seized their family estate.

She and her sister were sold as slaves to ruthless merchants in the underground black market, eventually ending up in this bloodthirsty Royal City.

Hearing this, something actually flickered in the tyrant's eyes. The redemption value spiked to 80%. The tyrant immediately dispatched his men to investigate.

The Class Rep's teammate had already redeemed holographic mimicry projections, flawlessly faking the existence of that greedy family.

By the time the tyrant returned, drenched in fresh blood, the progress bar had hit 90%.

He pulled the Class Rep straight out of the laundry quarters, promoting her to his personal maid.

He didn't just teach her how to read and write; he allowed her to dine at his table in private. This time, none of us dared to breathe.

We watched helplessly as the progress bar crept from 90% to 92%, then 95%, and finally, 98%. Another three months passed.

With a wave of his hand, the tyrant decreed that the Class Rep would be his Queen. No one dared to object. The price of objection was a severed head.

The tyrant spent an entire month meticulously preparing for the grand coronation.

During this time, the Class Rep acted like a subdued prey, maintaining a sick, twisted bond with the tyrant on every single brutal decision.

The tyrant would often whisper in her ear, "You and I are simply a perfect pair of monsters crawling out of hell." The live chat couldn't help but marvel. [Is this little girl actually going to be the first to clear the game?] [I don't see any red flags yet.] [No way, I'd way rather watch them all get slaughtered.] We finally made it to the day of the coronation.

The Class Rep sent a single message to the group chat. "Do or die." We all held our breath, watching the Class Rep, draped in extravagant royal gowns, walk toward the tyrant on the high altar.

At this moment, the tyrant's features actually looked unusually soft. He took her hand.

The two of them stood at the absolute pinnacle, looking down at the masses below as if they were mere ants.

The redemption progress slowly ticked up. 98.2%, 98.5%… 99.8%… The progress bar froze again. Our eyes darted up.

That was when we saw the tyrant's blade driven straight through the Class Rep's abdomen. At the exact same time, a storm of arrows rained down on the crowd below the altar.

Ministers, guards, maids—no one was spared