Tran Hao woke up in the dark.
The first thing he noticed was the smell of disinfectant. The second was the sharp pain shooting from the back of his neck down his spine. His throat was parched, and both arms felt as heavy as lead. When he tried to move, Hao heard metal clinking beneath his wrists.
He opened his eyes.
A white bulb hanging from the ceiling flickered nonstop. Its pallid light swept across the room, revealing freezing steel walls and ten chairs bolted to the floor. A stranger sat in each chair, wrists locked down, head hanging limply.
Hao wanted to ask where they were, but all he could hear in his head was a dull ringing.
In the chair across from him, a short, fat man jerked awake. He looked around, then started cursing.
“Let me go! Can you hear me? I have money! How much do you want?”
No one answered.
One by one, the others woke up.
A skinny young man in an old jacket stared at his hands in panic. A middle-aged man with cold, sharp eyes silently studied the room. The oldest among them had broad shoulders and sun-darkened skin; one look was enough to tell he had once lived deep in the mountains and forests. Near the door sat a bespectacled man who, despite being restrained, never stopped muttering about legal rights and responsibilities.
Another man wore a police jacket. The badge had been removed from his chest, but his ramrod-straight posture and calm gaze could not conceal his identity. Beside him, a young woman trembled, while a muscular woman kept testing the strength of her restraint strap. The last person was a woman around forty, her face pale but her eyes still clear and alert—the eyes of a doctor.
Ten people.
Ten complete strangers.
“Everyone, quiet!” the man in the police jacket ordered. “Check whether anyone’s injured.”
“I don’t need you giving orders,” the short, fat man snapped.
“Nhị Cẩu, right?” the bespectacled man said suddenly. “Your name’s printed on your wristband.”
Nhị Cẩu froze.
A black metal wristband encircled each person’s wrist. A red indicator blinked at its center, steady as a heartbeat.
Tran Hao looked down at his own hand. A line of tiny text was printed on the band:
TRAN HAO — 22 YEARS OLD.
He couldn’t remember what had happened to him. His last memory was the university library, a cup of cold coffee beside his textbook, and then a cloyingly sweet scent drifting from behind him.
After that, darkness.
“There’s something in my head,” Hao said softly.
The young woman beside him immediately turned to look. “Me too.”
“Don’t panic,” the oldest woman said. “We may have been injected with something. The pain at the back of the neck suggests…”
She didn’t finish. The steel door in front of them swung open.
A large screen descended from the ceiling. It displayed a white-robed figure whose face was completely concealed behind a smooth silver mask.
“Welcome, ten players.”
The voice had been processed, dry and utterly devoid of emotion.
“You are on an island under our control. Every one of your bodies contains gene-modification serum and a microchip. The microchip will record your survival status, control the stats system, and transmit information directly into your brain.”
The screen changed to show a deer standing on two legs. It towered more than two meters tall, its leg joints twisted backward and its eyes red as burning coals. It was tearing a tree trunk apart with its claws.
The young woman let out a sob.
“The island is home to creatures that have been genetically modified. They possess abilities far beyond those of their original species and will actively hunt you down.”
A data panel appeared in the middle of the screen.
“The rules are simple. Survive for 100 days.”
“That’s impossible…” the young woman whispered.
“Every time a player kills a modified creature, they will receive an energy gem. Swallow the gem, and the system will extract one trait from that creature and add it directly to the player’s body.”
The images continued to change: claws, night vision, muscle, speed, hardened skin.
“You may form alliances. You may betray one another. You may kill one another. There are no rules on the island, except for one.”
The screen went dark.
“After 100 days, we will bring back those who are still alive. A massive sum of money will be awarded to one person only. The recipient must be approved by every other survivor.”
A Sinh, the bespectacled man, swallowed hard. “What happens if they don’t agree?”
“No one receives the money.”
The voice on the screen paused for a beat.
“If the recipient intentionally shares the money with even one person, every survivor will die.”
The room fell utterly silent.
Tran Hao looked at the nine faces around him. Some were afraid. Some were angry. Some were calculating in silence. But the middle-aged man with the cold eyes continued staring straight at the screen, calm enough to make Hao uneasy.
Truong Tam.
The name on his wristband made the police officer suddenly clench his fist.
“You know him?” Hao asked.
Cao Minh didn’t answer immediately. A moment later, he said in a low voice:
“He’s a wanted serial killer.”
Truong Tam smiled.
There was nothing about that smile that suggested he had been kidnapped. It was the smile of a man who had just been unlocked.
“So, finally,” he said, “I have a playground worthy of me.”
The lights in the room abruptly went out.
The chairs all began to shake. The wrist restraints snapped open, but before anyone could stand, the floor split apart beneath their feet. Cold wind and a furious roar surged up from below.
The ten people were thrown out of the room.
Hao fell through a vast expanse of empty air. A small parachute opened behind him, yanking so hard that his shoulder nearly dislocated. Below him lay an island blanketed in dark forest. From deep within the canopy, countless red eyes opened in unison.
A whistle shrilled inside his brain.
“Player deployment complete.”
“Survival time: 100 days.”
“Countdown initiated.”
Hao hit the ground amid dead leaves, rolled several times, and slammed his back against a tree trunk. Before he could catch his breath, he heard a branch snap directly behind him.
In the darkness, a gigantic shadow slowly rose onto two legs.
A soft click sounded beside him.
A black metal box suddenly pushed up through the dead leaves. At the same time, nine other boxes appeared one after another at points deeper in the forest. A line of red text was printed across the lid of each one:
STARTER GIFT — OPEN WITHIN TEN MINUTES.
The system’s voice rang out in Hao’s mind:
“Player has received a starter gift box.”
“Contents: basic survival supplies and one starting energy gem.”
“Player may choose one of five species: snake, bat, shark, cheetah, or rhinoceros.”
Hao jolted. “A shark? On an island?”
“The selected species determines only the source of the power. The trait received will be random.”
Five images appeared suspended in midair: a coiled snake, a bat spreading its wings, a shark with its jaws open, a cheetah charging forward, and a rhinoceros lowering its horn.
“After selection, the gem will be activated. The system will randomly extract one trait from the corresponding species and fuse it into the player’s body.”
Hao looked at the box by his feet, then at the shadow advancing between the trees. Only seconds after setting foot on the island, the game had forced him to gamble his future on a choice he completely failed to understand.
Inside the box were a folding knife, two bottles of water, several packs of dried rations, a coil of thin cord, a waterproof lighter, and the energy gem nestled in black foam. The gem was transparent, with red flashes glimmering inside as if something alive were moving within it.
Hao picked it up.
Five symbols appeared before his eyes. There were no descriptions. No odds. No advice.
Only five paths.
The shadow behind him suddenly roared. The ground shook. The canopy ahead was torn apart, revealing a massive beast crawling on all fours. Its red eyes locked onto Hao.
Above his head, a red timer appeared.
99 days, 23 hours, 59 minutes, 58 seconds.
The 100-day survival game had officially begun.