The Nine Mysteries

"SURVIVE. NO MATTER THE COST."

The voice was cold, clinical, and relentless, reverberating through Michael's skull like the toll of a distant, unyielding bell. He blinked, instinctively clutching his head, but there was no escaping it. The words burned into his consciousness, their weight pressing down on him.

And then... silence.

The world around him vanished. The air itself seemed to collapse inward, swallowing all sound, all sense of place. In the blink of an eye, Michael was no longer standing on the spoiled brat's perfectly manicured lawn.

He reappeared somewhere else entirely.

The area was unnervingly serene, as if pulled from the pages of a children's storybook—but the wrong kind. The air was thick with an uneasy stillness, broken only by the faint crackle of cooling embers in a campfire long since extinguished. The campfire sat at the centre of the clearing, its charred kindling, remained as embers of what it once was.

Towering trees formed a tight perimeter around the space, their trunks unnaturally thick—each wider than two grown men standing shoulder-to-shoulder. Their bark shimmered faintly, a pale aqua hue that seemed almost alive, as though it pulsed faintly under the dim, source less light. The branches stretched high and sharp, their spindly, slick points reaching out like skeletal fingers, clawing at the sky.

In the centre of this mystical place, six men and six women, each stood standing around the campfire, like preparing some chaotic ritual. each person stood quietly in this forbidden jungle.

A deadly silence overtook the campsite, like the calm before the storm, each person trying to grasp and understand the situation… Shouts. Screams. Thuds, echoed across the area as chaos erupted. The sounds of people scrambling, yelling, or falling. Michael turned his head, his eyes darting over the clearing. Some of the others had collapsed to their knees, openly weeping, while a few stood trembling in place. One or two had clenched fists, their postures rigid and defensive, ready for a fight.

One man stood out, his arms were crossed and his back straight as he stood there stoically, his arms like pythons, crossed on his chest and his body poised and ready, he had darkish skin and islander probably maybe from the Cook Islands.

He wore a round hat with teeth sewn onto the side, and on his waist sat a belt made from a certain animal's leather, with a short blade hanging to the side, the blade I recognised it was the orange-coloured bear grills hunting knife. His body strong and opposing like some bodyguard or bouncer, clearly used to similar stressful situations.

When he spoke, his deep, gravelly voice cut through the noise like a blade. "Calm down," the man said. "No one here has kidnapped anyone. We are all in the same situation. So, let us all relax and figure this out, yes?"

His words carried weight, and for a moment, the chaos seemed to ebb.

But the calm did not last.

"Shut up, mate!" someone yelled to Michael's right. A wiry young man with a scruffy haircut jabbed an accusing finger toward the muscular stranger. "For all we know, you could've kidnapped us!"

The boy spun toward Michael, his eyes widening in recognition. Michael's stomach sank as the kid exclaimed, "It's you!"

Michael blinked, realization hitting him like a sledgehammer. The bratty customer from earlier—the smug rich kid who had called him lazy—was here. Of all people.

"You!" the kid hissed, pointing accusingly. "You planned this, didn't you? You and Mr. Muscles over there!"

Before Michael could respond, Alex lunged at him, fists flying wildly. His punches were sloppy and desperate, telegraphing every move. Michael slipped under a wild haymaker, his body moving more fluidly than expected, and twisted Alex's wrist to throw him off balance. In a flash, he had the kid in a full nelson as Alex thrashed and clawed at the air. For a moment nothing was heard, except the furious thrashes and screams from the boy in Michael's arms as the attention of the campsite gravitated towards, seizing this opportunity, the deep, gravelly voice of the muscular man cut through the noise again.

"That's enough!" he bellowed, his tone sharp and commanding. "We're all stuck here and fighting each other isn't going to help!"

Michael loosened his grip slightly as he raised his head to meet the man's calm stoic gaze, sighing as he released his grip and pushed the boy away, trying to not get caught in his wild swinging thrashes like a dog with rabies. The boy turned snarling at Michael, before the hard stare of the man across from him, made him shrink and quiet down.

"Alright I understand calm down" Michael mutters while running a hand through his hair, Micheal turns back to the group and asks, "Better question for now, who are you people and why are we here?"

The question hung there quietly.

Michael turned back to the group, his eyes scanning the strangers. Most of them looked as confused as he felt, but his gaze lingered on the muscular man. There was something different about him—something controlled. Did he know something the rest of them did not?

The man sighed, crossing his arms again. "First things first," he said. "Let us go around the circle and introduce ourselves. We need to figure out who is here before we can figure out what is going on."

He placed a hand on his chest. "Name's Christopher," he said simply. "But most people call me Chris."

He gestured to the woman beside him, motioning for her to go next. The others exchanged hesitant glances, their unease palpable, but one by one, they began to speak.

Michael rubbed his temples, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. Trying to remember everyone's names felt like herding cats. Twelve people, all stranded here together, and no one knew anything.

Chris, the muscular leader, had taken charge almost immediately. With his calm authority, he had led the group toward the campfire, where he began asking each person the same question: "What's the last thing you remember before ending up here?"

The answers were eerily consistent. Everyone recalled the same haunting memory—the glowing, floating text burned into their vision no matter how tightly they closed their eyes. And that voice. That cold, mechanical voice that spoke directly to their minds:

"SURVIVE. NO MATTER THE COST."

Joseph walked beside Michael now, the two of them moving just outside the clearing, tasked by Chris to search for clues.

Joseph was younger, probably in his early twenties, with a head of messy blond hair and the kind of athletic build that came from sports rather than the gym. He wore a white polo shirt and faded blue jeans—an outfit that screamed "former popular kid." Joseph was the only one here who seemed close to Michael's age, which made him tolerable, even if Michael could already sense a faint cocky streak lurking beneath the surface.

Still, he was a much better companion than Alex, Michael's spoiled ex-customer, whose constant whining and demands for explanations had been driving him up the wall.

 Alex's eyes darted around the clearing, his hands trembling as he clutched the edges of his shirt. 'This has to be a dream,' he muttered, his voice cracking. When Michael's gaze landed on him, Alex stiffened, masking his fear with a defiant glare. 'Do not look at me like that! You are the one who dragged us into this!'

Michael ignores Alex turning around, At least he was out here now, away from Alex's grating presence. That he did feel for the kid, they all did, but only Sophie could talk to him without getting bitten.

The jungle was quiet except the soft sobbing of the group carried through the still air. Michael glances back at Sophie holding someone tightly in her arms offering words of comfort and courage, as they lay escaping this... place in her arms.

Sophie stood out as a beacon in this grim situation. Her dark moonlight hair flowing freely in the wind, as it danced across her soft caramel skin, the quiet and smooth Caribbean accent even as she spoke in whispers. She was one of the first to remain strong, and the first to look after and protect the more fragile members of the group, even Alex's above the world attitude, softened around her.

Michael caught josephs look, as they both turned away, not out of malice or fear-but out of the sheer helplessness of their situation. Without hesitation turning back to the tasks, examining the quiet still trees before them.

The glimmer of something white poked out of the campfire, shifting through the ember Michael notices a clear see-through white crystal stood attached to the bottom of the pit.

"What is this? "Thinks Michael as he focuses on the blinking white dot on the centre of his that appeared as soon as he wiped the embers of the crystal.

Sophie gasped, her hand flying to her mouth as her wide eyes darted between the text and Michael. Joseph muttered a curse under his breath, while Alex's trembling fingers reached toward the crystal, his face lit with a mix of desperation and greed:

SYSTEM INITIALIZATION: WOULD YOU LIKE TO BE THE LORD?

YES NO

The glowing words pulsed, almost alive, demanding an answer. Similar gasps, echoed loudly behind him as his finger, inched towards the dazzling golden acceptance button. "But do I really want it? I mean that would mean I would have to lead them…"  Michael thinks as he turns away to beckon, while he had only just met Chris, he seemed more the natural leader and would not abuse it.

Looking behind him Michael notices that the same words above the crystal could be seen by everyone, unlike the impending words, flashing individually behind our eyes, before taking us to the TUTORIAL.

Chris sat gobsmacked ten meters away, with tree branches he had some people get, helping the older people carry the heavier stuff. "CHRIS!" Michael yells grabbing his jolting Christopher awake as he races towards the centre of the camp.

"There is no way, I'm letting you do this" yelled Alex as he sat up from the side of the campsite and extending his hands towards the crystal. The boy had been sitting there whimpering and crying by the campfire, only to stop for the occasional glare at Michael and pretend that he was a strong in front of Sophie.

Michael froze, his hands trembling knowing nothing good go right with that kid in charge. His face hardens, eyes sharpen, and his hands turn dexterous, flashing his left hand out… he makes a choice.

A choice that changed his fate, irreversible and vital… whether it helps him or destroys him, only time will tell…

**LORD HAS BEEN CHOSEN**

**TITLE: KNIGHT

**CONGRADULATIONS, MICHAEL ASHFORD**

**NOTE: THE LORD CANNOT BE CHANGED UNTIL THE PREVIOUS LORD IS DEAD**

**ACCESS TO SYSTEM HAS BEEEN GRANTED**

- INTERFACE ACTIVATED

- QUESTS ACTIVATED

- LEADERBOARDS ACTIVATED

- LORD INTERFACE ACTIVATED

QUEST>

THE LORD HAS BEEN CHOSEN, NOW IT IS TIME TO PROVE YOUR WORTH, YOUR METAL AND ABILITY TO COMMAND. SURVIVE 5 WAVES OF ATTACKS DURING THE NEXT MONTH. REWARDS WILL BE GIVEN AT THE END OF WAVES

PREPARE FOR WAVE 1 OF 5 WAVES

BEGIN TIME LEFT UNTIL WAVE 2 IS 23:59

The rustling came first—a faint sound that sliced through the thick silence of the jungle, unnatural and menacing.

Michael froze, his breath catching in his throat as the sound grew louder. The branches of the towering aqua-coloured trees swayed violently; the motion too deliberate to be caused by mere wind. A low, guttural growl rumbled through the air, vibrating in his chest like a warning drumbeat.\

Then they appeared…

Four wolves the size of a man, there muscular frames bulged and rippled with each step, there fur shimmed light under the dim light. Their eyes red and burned like a furnace, fierce and brutal, their maws dripped with thick, viscous drool that seamed to sizzle as it fell.

But none of those lesser animals compared to the beast in the centre… the Alpha. It stepped forward slowly, its movements deliberate and unnervingly confident. The massive creature's black fur bristled like jagged spikes, and its eyes glowed brighter than the others—intelligent, calculating.

It locked eyes with Michael, its lips curling into what could only be described as a cruel, knowing smile. This was no ordinary predator. This was a beast that knew it was born superior—and it wanted Michael to know it, too."

The Alpha's lips curled into a chilling, almost human smirk, its gaze locking onto Michael with predatory confidence. He felt a cold dread sink into his chest as realization struck—this was not just a test of strength. It was a hunt.

And they were the prey...