The city's underbelly breathed rot.
Narrow alleys twisted like broken veins beneath towering slums, their walls slick with mildew and old rain. The air reeked of decay, piss, and forgotten dreams. Somewhere in that suffocating gloom, a gaunt young man huddled against a crumbling concrete wall, his body folded inward as though trying to disappear.
Sun Li looked less like a person and more like a shadow that had learned to breathe.
His skin was pallid, stretched tight over jutting bones. Dark rings clung to his eyes—permanent bruises left by sleepless nights and gnawing pain. He wore nothing but tattered pajamas, once white, now gray with filth. His bare feet pressed against the damp ground, numb, cracked, and trembling from the cold.
In his hands—
A loaf of bread.
Warm. Fresh.
The smell alone was enough to make his throat ache.
He clutched it as if it were fragile glass, fingers shaking. This wasn't charity. This wasn't kindness.
It was theft.
And it was the last indulgence he would ever allow himself.
Sun Li knew it with terrifying certainty.
The illness that had eaten him alive for years—slow, cruel, unstoppable—had reached its end. Today, the pain was sharper. Clearer. Like a blade pressed gently against his spine, whispering the truth.
You won't wake up tomorrow.
"Hah…" A dry, humorless chuckle escaped his lips. "Figures."
If I'm going to die anyway… might as well eat like a human for once.
He raised the loaf and bit down.
CRACK.
The crust broke beneath his teeth, crisp and satisfying. Steam spilled out as he tore into it, the soft interior melting against his tongue. Warmth spread through his mouth, his chest—his soul.
Yeast. Salt. Life.
His breath hitched.
"This…" he muttered hoarsely, chewing slowly, savoring every second, "…is good."
For a fleeting moment, the pain dulled. The hunger faded. The world stopped crushing him.
He smiled.
Just a little.
Sun Li lifted the loaf again—
WHOOSH—!
A violent gust tore through the alley, unnatural and sudden. The wind screamed like something alive.
"—Huh?"
The bread slipped from his weakened fingers.
"No—!"
It spun once in the air, end over end—
—and vanished into the darkness.
Silence returned, heavy and mocking.
Sun Li stared at his empty hands.
"…You've got to be kidding me."
His shoulders slumped. He leaned back against the wall, laughing weakly, breath rasping in his throat.
"Even now… you won't let me have this?"
The city, as always, offered no answer.
With a weary groan, he pushed himself upright. His messy black hair fell into his eyes. His bare soles scraped against the pavement as he took a shaky step forward, debating whether chasing the bread was even worth the effort.
Then—
FLASH—!
The world shattered.
Blinding white light exploded from nowhere, swallowing the alley whole. Sound vanished. Gravity twisted. His body lifted, torn from reality as if seized by an unseen hand.
Pain flared—sharp, electric—
Then—
Nothing.
The World, 2047
By then, humanity had learned a new kind of fear.
They called it the Requiem Games.
A phenomenon no government could hide. No scientist could stop.
Young people—teenagers, early adults—vanished without warning. Streets. Bedrooms. Classrooms. Flashes of light marked their disappearance.
Days. Weeks later—
Some returned.
Broken. Silent. Hollow-eyed.
Others returned as corpses.
After years of study, the conclusion was unavoidable.
They were being dragged into another world.
A parallel realm.
A game of survival where death was entertainment and weakness was sin.
The media erupted.
Governments issued global warnings.
"Prepare your children."
"The Requiem Games spare no one."
"Strength is the only currency."
Combat tutors. Survival instructors. Strategy analysts. Even crude magic theory, pieced together from the ramblings of traumatized survivors.
The wealthy listened.
Elite academies rose overnight, offering Requiem Preparation Courses. The rich trained their heirs like weapons.
The poor could only pray.
At first, there were protests. Denial. Mockery.
Then the disappearances continued.
The deaths piled up.
And the world fell silent.
In this cruel lottery of fate—
One more name was drawn.
Requiem Initiation
When the light faded, Sun Li was no longer in the alley.
Stone stretched endlessly beneath his feet.
He stood inside a colossal coliseum, carved from shadow and ancient rock. Towering walls loomed overhead, etched with symbols that pulsed faintly, like veins beneath skin.
All around him—
Hundreds of people.
Crying. Shouting. Praying. Frozen in terror.
His heart slammed against his ribs.
"What… is this…?"
Above them, the air distorted.
ZZZ—CRACKLE—
A massive holographic screen descended from the darkness, flickering to life.
[Welcome, Players, to the Requiem Games.]
[Survive.]
[Evolve.]
[Or perish.]
[Let the trial begin.]
The words burned themselves into his vision.
Sun Li's breath caught.
The warmth of the bread was gone.
So was the alley.
So was death's certainty.
Instead—
A different kind of end awaited him.
Or perhaps—
A beginning.
His hands clenched slowly.
"…So this is it."
The last bite he never finished was already forgotten.
Because now—
His true final meal…
—or his first fight for survival—
had just begun.