05 et's Burn This Game to the Ground

I was right.

The NPCs only drain our shared Life Points when those rabbit-headed freaks kill them. But when a player does the deed? A sweet, solitary +1 point lands right in your own account.

"Fascinating," I whisper, the word tasting like victory and madness on my tongue.

I stare at the spot where the student dissolved into black smoke. A wild, electric thrill shoots through my veins. This unfair, rigged game wants to chew me up and spit me out? Fine. I'll bite back. I'll burn the whole fucking system down. If I'm on a dead-end road anyway, I might as well drive it straight off a cliff.

The other nine players are frozen for a second, their shock a tangible thing in the stale air. Then the outrage hits.

Marcus Stone’s calm facade shatters. He crosses the distance in three long strides, his hand shooting out to grab the front of my hoodie, hauling me up. "Are you out of your goddamn mind?"

His breath is hot against my face. Killing NPCs is a cardinal sin in any Instance. It’s a gamble with the rules, a surefire way to trigger hidden penalties and crank the difficulty to hell. NPCs are usually protected, strong. You don’t touch them unless you have no other choice.

He didn’t expect a rookie to have the balls. He didn’t expect me to move without a flicker of hesitation.

I don’t struggle. My face is a mask of eerie calm, but beneath it, a frenzy is building, a pressure cooker about to blow. I just meet his furious gaze, my own eyes flat and empty.

Something in my look gives him pause. A flicker of uncertainty. His grip on my hoodie loosens, just for a second.

What is this lunatic planning?

I smooth the wrinkled fabric where he grabbed me. My voice is a lazy drawl. "Even if I triggered a death sentence, it’s mine to suffer. Why are you so upset?"

Marcus says nothing, his jaw working.

I step around him, a queen dismissing a guard, and drop back onto the floor against the wall. I feel his eyes on my back, heavy with a confusion I don’t care to decipher.

"Marcus, look!" The observant veteran—the one who covered for me earlier—points at the large screen. "The shared count didn’t drop. But her personal Life Points… they just went up by one."

Marcus’s attention snaps to the display. The other veterans crowd in, the earlier horror morphing into hungry curiosity.

"Kill an NPC, gain a point?" Luna Chen’s voice is sharp with sudden, avaricious interest. Her eyes gleam.

Marcus goes quiet, thinking. His gaze flicks back to me, hunched and silent in the corner. Was that her goal all along? To test this twisted loophole?

The sheer, reckless audacity of it.

But maybe it’s because she’s a rookie. No experience means no fear. No veteran would be that stupid.

"Marcus!" Luna tugs his arm, her face darkening when she sees him staring at me.

He pulls his eyes away, addressing the group. "The mechanic seems to hold. But we all know the cost. Kill an NPC, you rack up Misfortune Points. That hidden stat attracts worse luck, harder encounters. Trading one Life Point for a curse isn’t worth it."

The veteran players nod, the brief spark of greed extinguished by cold pragmatism. The three other rookies just look lost, only understanding that the NPCs are off-limits.

"We can’t kill them," Marcus continues, taking command again. "But we can’t let the monsters kill them either. If the student count hits zero, we all die. Our job is to round them up, protect them. We just need to survive seven days in this hell-school. That’s the win condition."

He starts barking orders, assigning roles based on their revealed Class Abilities. The group falls into line instantly. He’s their leader now. Their safe, predictable anchor.

Across the room, Jax stands apart, his expression a war of doubt and shame.

I ignore them all.

My focus is on the chaos beyond the auditorium doors. My mind is a whirlwind. If I killed every single NPC in this Instance… my Life Points would skyrocket. What would happen then?

Maybe I’d die instantly, smote by the System.

Or maybe… something wonderful would break.

The outcome is the same if I fail: death.

So why not try?

A decision crystallizes, hard and sharp as a diamond. From the moment I was thrown into this game—denied my Ability, my points, my basic fucking tools—a rage has been simmering in my gut. I want to see what happens when I shatter the rules completely.

Let’s see how the game likes that.

A tremor runs through me, not of fear, but of pure, unadulterated anticipation.

I stand up.

Alone isn’t enough. I need a witness. Maybe a pawn.

My eyes land on Jax, the idealist, now utterly isolated. Perfect.

The moment I move, eight pairs of eyes lock onto me. Marcus’s gaze is a physical weight, his brow furrowed deep.

This rookie is unstable. A loose cannon. A bomb in our midst. He needs to cut me loose.

They watch, tense, as I walk—not toward the exit, but toward Jax. A collective, subtle exhale.

I stop in front of him. "Interested in a partnership?"

He blinks, wary.

"I’ll get you through this," I say, the promise absolute. "You work with me, and you walk out alive."

A rookie. A rookie with a ‘useless’ Ability. Promising to carry him through an A-Class Instance.

He looks at me like I’ve just spoken in tongues. But there’s something in my face, in the utter certainty in my voice, that hooks him. Against all logic, against every survival instinct screaming at him, his hand reaches out and takes mine.

"Okay."

A slow, genuine smile curves my lips. "Excellent. Now, partner… let’s go break the game."

I don’t give him time to reconsider. My grip on his hand is iron. I drag him toward the auditorium’s main doors.

"Wait—what are you—?" he stammers, panic finally hitting him.

He thinks he’s made a terrible mistake. He’s right.

I shove the door open and pull us both into the dim, monster-infested hallway. The door slams shut behind us with a final, echoing thud.

Inside the auditorium, there is a beat of stunned silence.

"Are they insane?" the observant veteran breathes.

Luna Chen lets out a derisive snort. "Two idiots with a death wish. Let them die out there. Less competition for us."

In the hallway, the air is cold and smells of rust and decay. Distant skittering sounds echo. Jax is pale, trying to pull his hand back. "This is suicide!"

"Only if you believe in the rules," I say, my voice low and thrilling as I start leading us down the corridor, away from the safe zone. "Now, keep up. We have students to find."