Chapter One: Awakening

Chapter One: Awakening

Gradually, sensation returned. Cold and trembling flooded his mind, while a furry touch pressed against his cheek.

The instant his body fully adapted, he leapt to his feet.

"Not bad. You two are the most composed newcomers in this batch. Do you know each other?" A chilling voice spoke from nearby.

"Hmm? Snowy, Lolita..." Schuster bent down and picked up Snowy, who was sprawled on the ground, tucking her into his jacket pocket. Then, he exchanged a nod with Lolita, who had also jumped up behind him. Surveying the area, he saw six other people lying in disarray: four men and two women. Besides them, there were more than a dozen heavily armed foreigners in this enclosed space.

Schuster and Lolita exchanged glances and moved into a corner, silently observing.

"Aren't you curious why you're here?" The cold voice sounded again, tinged now with a trace of curiosity.

"When everyone's awake, I don't believe you won't explain," Schuster replied, casting a glance at the speaker—a young man with black hair, about twenty-four or twenty-five, utterly unremarkable except for several scars slashing across his face, giving him a savage, terrifying appearance.

"Heh, so you already remember how you got here? Interesting, for a newcomer." The man said nothing more, leaning against the wall and lighting a cigarette.

They were inside a speeding train car. The cold and vibration were simply sensations from the car itself.

After a while, another young man—also black-haired, dressed like an office worker—suddenly sprang up from the floor, panic in his eyes, but the scarred man interrupted.

"Not bad, you're the third best among the newcomers," the cold voice startled the man.

"Where is this place? Who are you people? Why am I here?" The man asked, switching to English because of the foreigners present. Strangely, he didn't even notice Schuster and Lolita in the corner.

The foreigners glanced at him and then looked away. Only the scarred young man inhaled deeply and said, "Think carefully. It should have implanted all this into your mind."

The others were waking up too, listening quietly to the conversation.

"This time, it's Resident Evil One. You rookies are lucky—your first time and you get such an easy horror movie. Even if you die, it should be painless." The black-haired man took a long drag on his cigarette before crushing it out in his palm.

"You mean, our consciousness is inside a computer, like in a fantasy novel? As long as we play the game, our minds return to our bodies and we live again?" A chubby man sitting beside the office worker asked.

The black-haired man pulled out a Desert Eagle, checking and adjusting it as he spoke. "I don't know if it's just consciousness, but you will feel pain, you will be injured, you can die. And you’re wrong—after completing this game, you enter another unknown horror movie, maybe one you've seen, maybe not. Each time, the 'Lord God' recruits new members to replace those lost before, with group sizes between seven and twenty. In other words, Resident Evil One is considered low risk, which is why there are only nine of us this time."

"Nine?" The group finally looked around and noticed Schuster and Lolita in the corner.

"Just ignore us. We only want to hear what's going on," Schuster decided it was best to remain silent.

The corner was dim, revealing only two vague figures; the others ignored them and resumed their discussion.

The chubby man sneered. "How do you know the dead ones haven't already returned to their bodies? Maybe they chose death themselves."

The black-haired man suddenly looked up, eyes flashing coldly. In that instant, he seemed to transform into a panther. The next moment, he was upon the chubby man, jamming the Desert Eagle into his mouth.

"Want to try dying? Can you imagine endless terror? I've survived three horror movies. The first was Nightmare on Elm Street. There were fifteen newcomers and two veterans who had already survived two rounds. Do you know the ending? All were killed in their dreams. Only one other and I survived. Do you want to know what it's like to be killed by a grotesque, impossible dream? To see everything around you turn into writhing, decaying flesh, to watch your companions slowly, agonizingly shredded by scissors in a grim factory? You piece of trash! Do you want to die?"

The black-haired man screamed hysterically, murderous intent obvious. The chubby man trembled, the gun in his mouth rendering him speechless.

The office worker and the other two men and two women pulled them apart. The black-haired man sneered and returned to his seat, stroking his gun. "Death here is real death. And if you’re tortured to death by the monsters in these horror films, it will be unspeakably miserable. If you’re not determined to survive, I suggest you kill yourself now."

A bespectacled young woman asked calmly, "So, there’s no way to return to our bodies?"

The black-haired man sneered, "I keep telling you, it's not just your consciousness in a computer. Do you think humanity has technology for this? No, this is the work of gods. We're nothing but playthings to them, thrown into horror movies for their amusement. We—and our spirits—are dragged into this world. There's no way back. At least, I don't think so."

The bespectacled girl, exuding a quiet composure, pondered before saying, "From your tone, there is still hope to return?"

The black-haired man glanced at her. "You newcomers are truly exceptional. Yes, there is hope."

At these words, the six others, including the office worker, held their breath, eyes fixed on him.

"Each time you survive a mission—a horror movie—you earn a thousand reward points. These points can be exchanged for many things. For example, you can exchange a hundred points for the right to live a hundred days in this world outside the horror scenario," he said calmly.

A middle-aged man beside the girl scoffed, "Who would want to live longer in a horror world? Isn't that courting death?"

The black-haired man only sneered, but the bespectacled girl pressed her hand to her forehead, thinking aloud. "No, I understand his meaning. Horror movies come in many types. Some, like Resident Evil, are technological horror, explainable by science and without supernatural elements. Except for the plot locations, the rest of the world should be normal..."

The man snapped his fingers. "Bingo! You can live those extra days in the normal parts of this world. Imagine, after surviving multiple life-or-death trials, being able to live peacefully and freely in a normal world—that's bliss."

He continued, "Besides extra days, you can exchange points for many things—like this unlimited-ammo Desert Eagle, which costs only a hundred points, or ten days’ worth of life. Also, you can enhance your six basic attributes—intelligence, mental strength, cellular vitality, nerve response speed, muscle strength, and immunity—each point costing one day of life. An ordinary person’s base for all six is one hundred. So, survive one horror movie, and you can double your strength. Survive a hundred, and you’ll be superhuman!"

The bespectacled girl calmly pressed on, "Back to the main point. How many points are needed to return to our own world?"

"Fifty thousand," the black-haired man replied, lighting another cigarette and taking a deep drag. "If you spend no points on anything else, you’d need to survive fifty horror movies. Then you can go home."

The group fell silent. According to his explanation, surviving fifty horror movies without using any reward points for enhancements was nearly impossible.

"Of course, a thousand points per movie is just the base reward. You can earn more within the movie. For example, explaining the rules to newcomers as I just did gets me a hundred points, according to the ‘Lord God.’ Also, you may have noticed the strange watches on your left wrists." He raised his left hand, revealing a black, pure-metal watch of archaic, simple design.

Everyone looked at their left wrists. The watch displayed several figures: a countdown—three hours and seven minutes—along with data categories like number of zombies, number of crawlers, number of newcomers...

"You get one point for every ten zombies killed, a hundred for each crawler, and a thousand for each newcomer killed..." The black-haired man gave a sinister look at the group, but only the office worker and the bespectacled girl met his gaze evenly.

"Of course, those are negative points," he added with a cold laugh. "All right, any other questions? This scenario is about to begin."

The bespectacled girl glanced at the office worker, who nodded slightly. She continued, "Two or three more questions. I’ve seen Resident Evil One. At the end, the T-virus invades Raccoon City. If we escape the lab on this train car before that, shouldn’t survival be easy?"

The black-haired man nodded. "Check your watch. There’s a name in the top left corner. Read it."

"Matthew Addison!"

Several people read it aloud. They were surprised to see a faint glow emanate from a Black man among the foreigners; it lasted only a moment before fading.

"He's the mercenary captain from the movie. This scenario is confined to a specific area: the lab. The ‘Lord God’ restricts us—if we go more than a hundred meters from Matthew Addison, we’ll be instantly annihilated. When he dies, the restriction moves to another plot character. It's all interlinked. We can only struggle to survive within this horror film."

The office worker suddenly asked, "What is this ‘Lord God’ you keep mentioning?"

"It’s what manages our participation in these cycles—gives rewards, handles exchanges. It appears as a ball of light. Honestly, I have no idea what it truly is," the man replied, waving his hand.

The bespectacled girl nodded. "One final question: what does this countdown mean?" She pointed to her watch.

"It’s the time you must spend in this horror film. When time is up, you can return alive to the ‘Lord God,’ claim your reward, and face the next film," the man replied, inhaling his cigarette.

At that moment, the train car began to decelerate. The black-haired man quickly finished his cigarette, drew his Desert Eagle, and said, "It's starting. From now on, the plot characters can hear us. Every word we say will cost ten points—a ten-point penalty per sentence, deducted from the next round’s rewards if you go negative. Rookies... do your best to survive!"

PS: It's frustrating—I can't help but copy! The first horror film will end soon. I won't spoil the second, but it's related to Aliens. Heh.