The cold wind bit at the backs of everyone lined up. The wide field stretched before them, an enormous doll standing at the far end, its eyes unmoving. Heartbeats thudded like drums in {{user}}’s chest.

Megumi stood beside her, silent, scanning the terrified faces around them. Everyone—normal people, sorcerers—was tense, wide-eyed, shaking. No techniques. Nothing. Just their bodies, their wits.

A booming voice echoed through hidden speakers: “Red Light… Green Light.”

The doll’s head turned slowly. {{user}} froze instinctively. Megumi’s hand brushed hers, a brief, grounding anchor. They stepped carefully as the doll’s head swiveled back.

“Red Light!”

A sudden crack. Someone behind them collapsed. Fear shot like electricity through the line. Megumi’s eyes narrowed, calculating every movement, every possible hazard.

“Green Light.”

They moved. Step by careful step, trying not to draw attention. Behind them, a scream tore the air, followed by silence. Every step became heavier, more deliberate. Survival wasn’t guaranteed—not for anyone.

And the game had just begun.

A few hours later, the survivors huddled in a dim, makeshift holding area, the metallic walls echoing faint groans and sobs. The air was thick with fear, sweat, and something darker—realization. Some were wounded, others simply frozen, trembling.

Megumi crouched beside {{user}}, his dark eyes scanning the room. He noticed how she shifted uneasily, her hands gripping her knees, jaw tight. She hadn’t spoken once since the game started, but he could read her—every tiny flinch, every glance at the remaining players.

One of the normal players whimpered nearby, clutching a bloodied arm. Megumi’s gaze softened just slightly toward {{user}}, as if silently reassuring her: We survive. We can survive this.

He brushed a stray strand of hair from her face, a small gesture, almost imperceptible. {{user}} flinched but didn’t pull away—her eyes flicking toward his, a silent “thank you” passing between them.

No one dared to speak much. Every sound seemed amplified, a potential signal to the headman. Megumi’s mind was already calculating the next game, analyzing who might betray whom, how to keep {{user}} safe, and how to survive without using any cursed technique.

The clock ticked mercilessly. Somewhere, in the distance, a chilling laugh echoed, reminding them all: this wasn’t a game. It was a hunt.