❖ Operation 1: "The Feast of Beasts"Time Remaining: 5 hours, 10 minutesPlayers Remaining: 805
The sun still hadn't risen.
Juwon wasn't sure it ever would.
The violet sky overhead hadn't changed—not lightened, not shifted. It just pulsed, faintly, like a living bruise stretched across the world.
They'd been walking in silence for almost an hour.
The system hadn't offered any map. No compass. No direction at all.
Just survive.
So Juwon followed instinct.
And instinct led him toward the smoke.
They smelled it first.
Faint. Charred wood. No blood. No sulfur.
Then the flicker of light ahead—orange, dancing low against the undergrowth.
Jiyeon tightened her grip on the broken branch she carried. It wasn't a weapon, not really. But it made her feel like she had a say in her own survival.
Juwon held up a hand.
She stopped.
He crouched, scanned the perimeter of the glow.
At least five figures.
Sitting in a half-circle around a fire.
Not beasts. Human silhouettes. Talking, though he couldn't make out the words.
Juwon studied them for a long moment.
Then: "They didn't build that fire for warmth."
Jiyeon frowned. "Then why?"
"To say we're still here."
They stepped into the clearing together.
Slowly. Open hands. No sudden movements.
All five heads turned toward them.
Four sat close to the fire. One leaned against a tree, arms crossed, face in shadow.
No one attacked.
Not yet.
One of the seated figures—a boy with buzzed hair and a gash across his cheek—stood slowly.
"Two more," he muttered. "That makes seven."
"Could be bait," said the tree-leaning one. His voice was calm. Cold. "The last group we let in lost us three."
Jiyeon stepped back instinctively. Juwon didn't.
"We're not bait," Juwon said. "We're bleeding. Hungry. Not stupid."
A pause.
The one by the tree tilted his head. "You talk like you've already accepted how this works."
"I haven't accepted anything," Juwon said. "But I've learned fast."
The buzz-cut boy nodded. "He's clean. So's the girl."
"'Clean' means nothing anymore," said a third—someone older, maybe mid-thirties, with a long coat and bandaged arm. "The mimic didn't bleed either."
"Mimic?" Jiyeon asked.
The older one gestured to a half-buried shape near the fire.
A corpse.
Mostly human.
Except for the long jointed arms curled beneath it like an insect.
"We kill them now," said the cold-voiced one by the tree. "Before they bring more."
"No," said the buzz-cut boy. "Not unless they give us a reason."
"They'll be a drain."
"They're breathing. That's enough."
The two locked eyes.
Tension spiked.
Juwon watched, quiet.
Then he stepped forward and sat at the fire.
Slowly. No permission asked. No challenge made.
Just a statement: I'm not your enemy.
The cold-voiced one watched him, unmoving.
But he didn't stop him.
Jiyeon hesitated, then followed.
The fire crackled.
No one spoke for a while.
Then the buzz-cut boy passed them a piece of dry root.
"Found these near the waterfall. System didn't flag them."
Juwon took it. Sniffed. Nibbled the edge.
No burn. No mutation. Just bitter.
He ate anyway.
"You have a name?" the boy asked.
"Seo Juwon."
The boy nodded. "Kang Minho."
Juwon froze.
Then blinked.
"…Minho?"
The boy grinned. "Didn't expect to run into someone from school out here."
Juwon didn't smile.
But his eyes softened—just for a moment.
"Still collecting survival partners?"
"Of course," Minho said. "You're late, by the way."
Jiyeon introduced herself next.
The others followed.
The one by the tree: Eun Taesuk. Cold, tactical, and clearly ex-military.
The older woman with the coat: Yoon Mirae. Once a field researcher, now the most injured of the group.
The fifth: Choi Hana, young, wide-eyed, silent so far. Probably in shock.
Seven total, now.
Less than ten minutes later, a new window appeared above the fire.
❖ Bonus Objective Activated:Small Group SurvivalStatus: 7 Players LinkedReward Multiplier: +1.15xPenalty on Group Death: -30% Total Progress
Minho whistled. "So the system likes when we band together."
Taesuk narrowed his eyes. "Or it just made us easier to track."
Juwon didn't respond.
He was watching the woods.
The beasts hadn't returned.
But something else had changed.
The forest was listening now.
And something in the firelight whispered:
This is the part where hope makes you careless.