Chapter 3

I frowned. The viewers behind the comments sounded no different from sadistic killers.

When no one else spoke, the system's voice returned.

"Please select the next participant to enter the game before the timer ends. If no one enters, the game will be deemed a failure, and I will punish the remaining players."

We exchanged glances and all saw the fear reflected in each other's eyes.

The system continued, "Current death count totals 21. The remaining 195 merit points will be evenly distributed among 15 survivors."

With that, my phone screen popped up with a notification showing that I'd just received 13 merit points, which brought my total to 25.

"Would you like to spend 75 merit points on redeeming memories of the deceased?"

We looked at each other again. After everyone nodded, each of us contributed five points to redeem the memory fragments.

When the scene flashed, Isolde's memory was the first to appear. It featured King Ragnar strangling her by the throat and carefully studying her face.

"You are not Isabella Thorne, are you?" he asked. "Who are you, or rather, who are all of you? What's your purpose in trying to approach me?"

Isolde must have discovered the truth about King Ragnar's first love by then. She glared back at him and choked out, "I-I'm Isabella Thorne… I'm here because…"

He leaned closer, trying to hear her last words. Isolde seized the chance to bite down hard on his ear and tear off a large piece.

"You have a death wish!"

King Ragnar's expression darkened. He tightened his grip around her neck, loosening only when she was on the brink of death. That cycle repeated several times before he finally tossed her onto the floor.

Barely alive, Isolde grabbed her phone and sent me a message.

Just after she hit send, King Ragnar drew his sword and chopped off all her limbs. Then, he skinned her face and watched her die in agony.

The others' memories were just as brutal. Each one showed a different form of torture.

King Ragnar discovered the existence of the Atoners, but not knowing how many there were, he simply killed anyone he suspected.

Overnight, Aethelburg became a mountain of corpses, yet King Ragnar smiled innocently. Lying among the bodies, he hugged his sword tightly like a child desperate for a sense of security and comfort.

None of us felt even a shred of pity for him. The remaining 15 of us stared back at him with rage or loathing.

In Aethelburg, the people lived in terror and grief.

Beyond Aethelburg, hordes of refugees swarmed the roads and resorted to cannibalism, with corpses littering the land.

All of it was born from King Ragnar's reign. Why did such an incompetent and ruthless man, who slaughtered the innocents, deserve a chance to atone for his crimes?

My eyes burned red as I fixed the system with a deadly glare.

It seemed to notice and asked in a cold, electronic voice. "Player 26, would you like to enter the scenario block?"

Before I could answer, our class representative, Elara Vance, stepped in front of me. She was the only remaining student council member.

After adjusting her glasses, she announced, "I'd like to enter the scenario block."

Shocked, I shook my head at her, but she smiled at me. "As the class rep, it's my responsibility to protect everyone. Besides, I have an idea, though I'm not sure if it'll work."

She began to explain. "The 20 people who last joined the game chose roles tied to power or status, and they all failed. Maybe that's the key we've been missing.

"Important figures draw King Ragnar's attention, but what if I choose to be a maid? The system never said we have a time limit, so we could try the slow, patient approach to reform King Ragnar over time.

"Since he was born into a tragic background and had a miserable childhood, maybe he'd show compassion to maids and commoners."