The Inter-Island Cultural Exchange Festival had finally arrived.
When the first light of dawn touched the harbor of Avenia, the entire island was already buzzing with excitement.
The harbor was packed with ships from various islands: exquisitely designed sailboats, sleek yachts, and several "flower boats" so heavily decorated with blossoms they were clearly intended specifically for this festival.
People disembarked in steady streams, stepping onto red-carpeted piers and being guided into the island by hospitality staff.
The streets were lined with colorful flags and banners, while holographic screens scrolled through welcome messages and festival schedules.
Even the islanders, usually busy with their daily grind, took a rare moment to slow down.
Some stood on the street corners to watch the spectacle, raising selfie sticks to record the grand event, while others took the opportunity to set up stalls selling handmade crafts or snacks. Naturally, the prices were exorbitant, intended only for tourists.
The opening ceremony was held at the Avenia Grand Theater in the center of the island.
The theater was a massive structure composed entirely of glass and metal, shimmering brilliantly under the sun.
The plaza in front of the theater was packed with people: socialites in formal wear, professional fan clubs holding support signs, and media reporters carrying heavy equipment.
Dozens of drones hovered in the air, filming the scene from every angle and broadcasting it in real-time to major platforms across the world.
At exactly nine o'clock in the morning, the opening ceremony officially began.
It started with a speech from the host.
The Governor of Avenia stepped onto the stage, dressed in a sharp suit with a perfectly practiced smile. In fluent Common Tongue, he welcomed the guests from all islands, introduced Avenia's developmental achievements over the years, and looked forward to the prospects of future cooperation.
His words were provided with simultaneous interpretation into over a dozen languages, transmitted across the plaza via holographic screens and uploaded to online platforms.
At the same time, the screens displayed various sponsor advertisements: limited-edition festival drinks from famous beverage brands, inter-island co-branded suites from luxury hotel groups, and festival-exclusive pieces from high-end jewelry brands.
Each advertisement was meticulously produced with beautiful visuals and melodious background music, making the audience feel as if they were watching a grand commercial show rather than an opening ceremony.
The ceremony also featured singing and dancing performances, the most anticipated segment for ordinary people and celebrity fans.
The leading star of Singing Star Media was the first to appear. Dressed in a flowing water-blue gown adorned with countless tiny crystals, her makeup was flawless and her smile elegant. Her rendition of a melodious folk song held the entire audience breathless.
Only a few people noticed that she was excessively thin; the hollows in her cheeks were something even foundation couldn't fully hide.
Next was a performance by a boy group.
The youthful boys sang and danced with boundless energy and vitality.
On the surface, everything was lively and beautiful.
However, behind the scenes at the opening ceremony, it was an entirely different story.
The female star from Singing Star Media had just finished her performance and walked into her dressing room. Before she could even sit down, the door was shoved open roughly.
Two men dressed in black burst inside.
She froze. "You..."
Before she could finish, a large hand clamped over her mouth.
She struggled to scream, but the hand was too tight, leaving her only able to make muffled, stifled sounds.
The other man quickly pulled a black cloth bag from his pocket and threw it over her head.
Everything went dark.
She was hoisted up by the two men and dragged stumbling toward the exit.
She heard footsteps around her, people whispering, and faint gasps of surprise, but no one came to stop them.
No one saved her.
She was shoved into a vehicle, the door slammed shut with a bang, and then came the roar of an engine.
She curled into a ball, trembling all over, not knowing where she was being taken or what awaited her.
She didn't understand why this was happening to her, but she could faintly sense that ever since the company forced her to become a vegan six months ago, everything had been shrouded in a sense of the supernatural.
In another dressing room, the neutered male celebrity from Singing Star Media suffered the same fate.
He didn't even have time to change out of his performance costume before he was silenced, bagged, and hauled away.
He didn't struggle.
Because he knew struggling was useless.
What kind of power would it take to barge into the backstage of the opening ceremony and snatch people away?
Ever since that car accident last year when his "bells" had been mysteriously removed, he knew he might have been marked.
There was no one around he could trust.
He was forcibly stuffed into another vehicle.
The moment the car door closed, he suddenly thought of his fans.
Those fans would never know that the "Oppa" they so crazily adored was currently being transported like cargo to some unknown place.
...
Meanwhile, in another corner of Avenia.
Kraken stood before an inconspicuous building.
This was a secret base for the Order Alliance on the island, disguised as the office of a technology company. The storefront was small, but the interior was a world of its own.
"Follow me," a member of the Alliance dressed in grey clothing whispered, turning to walk into the building.
Kraken followed.
They traversed the corridors, took an elevator down to the third basement level, and finally stopped before a heavy metal door.
The door opened.
Inside was a small room with stark white lighting, the walls lined with various incomprehensible instruments and equipment.
In the center of the room sat a computer. Its model was very ordinary, no different from one you might find in any random internet cafe.
However, many people were standing around the computer.
At least a dozen, all dressed in uniform grey clothing, both men and women, were watching him.
Kraken's steps faltered slightly.
He frowned, wanting to say, "Could you all please leave? I'm not used to being stared at by so many people."
But the words died in his throat.
Forget it.
Even if his consciousness was about to leave his body, he wasn't worried.
The Order Alliance needed him to execute this dangerous mission; they likely wouldn't harm him.
Moreover, that girl had said she would protect him.
Although he didn't know how she would do it or where she was at this moment, he inexplicably believed she would appear at the critical moment.
"Sit," a wizened voice sounded.
It was the child-like leader. He stood at the front of the crowd, his youthful face filled with solemnity.
Kraken walked to the computer and sat down.
Only a single line of blood-red text appeared on the computer screen:
【Do you want to understand the meaning of life? Do you want to truly... live?】
Below it were two options.
YES or NO
Kraken looked at the words and read them aloud softly.
He raised an eyebrow, deeply confused. What on earth was this? Why did it have such a strong vibe of an old-school web game?
"That is the invitation to the Killing Competition. Just click YES," the leader's voice came from behind him.
Kraken nodded.
He did not hesitate.
He moved the mouse, resting the cursor on the YES option.
Click.
In the next instant, Kraken's vision shifted abruptly.
He felt a wave of dizziness and instinctively reached for his forehead.
It felt as if something was invading his spirit.
In his mind, shapes that were difficult to describe flashed abruptly—like geometric figures, yet also like living patterns, slowly rotating in the depths of his consciousness.
Immediately following, more strange images began to emerge.
Countless unnamable visuals and sounds flooded into his mind all at once.
They were too fast and too chaotic; he didn't even have time to distinguish them and could only endure them passively.
The computer screen began to warp.
It wasn't truly warping; it was warping in his perception.
Wavy patterns appeared on the screen, and the entire room seemed to undergo a peculiar transformation in his sight.
This was a mental intrusion.
Kraken instinctively wanted to resist.
But he forced the impulse down.
Once he started to resist, he might not stop the intrusion, but he would certainly trigger a reaction from the other side.
At that point, forget gathering information—he might not even be able to enter the game.
Endure. He had to endure right now.
After an unknown amount of time, Kraken's head finally slumped forward.
His eyes closed as if he had fallen into a deep sleep.
Rate on N.U.
