Previously on Captivity.....

The players are scattered across various locations around the world, back to their homes, struggling to come to terms with the eerie events unfolding around them.

Nicole in Brussels isolates herself, overwhelmed by despair, while Florida in Jakarta ends her relationship with Harold despite his pleas.

In the game, Awandea wanders a deserted hall, while Adrena reports to the Game Master about a player who didn’t return to their reality.

Eichi in Tokyo confides in his sister Kaori about his disturbing experience in the game Captivity, leading them to investigate its mysterious origins.

That night, Anex in Seoul is forcibly pulled back into the game by a sudden, horrifying event. As she regains consciousness in the game, she reunites with Demnin and Awandea, all three dreading the reality that they are trapped once again.

Adrena announces the beginning of the preliminary rounds, dividing the players into teams, and setting the stage for the next deadly phase of the game.

SUBMISSON

A whimper broke the heavy silence. "Ah! I don't want to!" Anex's voice cracked as she buried her face in her hands, her small frame trembling with fear. The overwhelming sense of helplessness threatened to drown her. Nia ran towards Anex. She reached up and gently patted Anex's knees, offering a small but meaningful comfort. Anex, through tear-streaked fingers, peeked at the child, and for a moment, their gazes locked. Nia's innocent yet determined expression seemed to ground Anex, pulling her back from the edge of despair.

Unlike Anex and Demnin, Awandea appeared calm, almost detached. She had accepted her fate with a quiet resolve, recognizing that resisting the truth of their situation was a futile exercise. Yet, for Anex and Demnin, the bitter reality of being trapped in a game-one that could cost them their lives-was a truth too harsh to swallow without a struggle.

Anex's mind drifted back to the mention of ten wishes, a glimmer of hope Adrena had offered them earlier. The memory of it ignited a spark of determination within her. She wiped her tears away with a fierce swipe of her hand and sprang to her feet. "I will wish for me to go back home," she declared, her voice quivering but filled with resolve. Demnin, who had been lost in his own thoughts, looked up at her, the raw determination in her eyes forcing him to focus.

"I will definitely go back home," Anex repeated, more to herself than anyone else, as if saying it aloud would make it true. Demnin nodded in agreement, though he knew the cost of such a wish. The reality was clear: they could indeed wish their way back home, but it would require them to risk everything- even their lives.

As the weight of their situation settled over them like a dark cloud, the familiar figures of other players approached. Demnin's eyes fell on Nia, who was still by Anex's side. "Nia. You are here too," Demnin said, his voice heavy with regret and the burden of responsibility. The little girl smiled up at him, a small, knowing smile, before she winked playfully. Demnin managed a weak smile in return, though it felt forced.

"Kid likes you," a voice from behind remarked. Florida stood there with an amused grin. Demnin nodded in acknowledgment. Then, another voice joined them. "Hello, Awandea," Nicole said, waving at Awandea before sitting down beside her. She offered a respectful bow, acknowledging Awandea's presence in a way that suggested more than just polite greeting.

Awandea, seemingly unbothered by the growing group, turned to Demnin and tugged at his sleeve. Her silent gesture spoke volumes, and Demnin knew she wanted to speak with him privately. With a weary sigh, he followed her to a quieter part of the hall, away from the murmuring crowd.

They stood beside a row of empty chairs, the dim light casting long shadows on the floor. "What is it? Why would you want to talk in private like this?" Demnin asked, his tone betraying a hint of annoyance. The situation was grim, and he wasn't in the mood for cryptic conversations.

Awandea turned to face him, her eyes locking onto his with an intensity that made him uncomfortable. "Demnin," she began, her voice steady, "I am not dull or lifeless."

"Oh? Are you confronting me?" Demnin raised an eyebrow, folding his arms defensively across his chest. He had made assumptions about Awandea, considering her aloof and detached demeanor, but her words suggested there was more beneath the surface.

"Confronting? Hardly, Demnin. I am telling you the truth you missed to picture," she responded, her tone calm but firm.

Demnin scoffed, still on the defensive. "You didn't say the truth yourself. How come I'm the one who missed it?"

Awandea took a step closer, her gaze unwavering. "Demnin, I am the child of the second wife of my father. His first wife's daughter is Awinita, my half-sister. My father and she excluded me from everything they did until one day my father disappeared. Then Awinita began annoying the hell out of me. She would torture me, blame me, out me-she did everything she could to remind me that I'm nothing but the daughter of a runaway. And I didn't mind that one bit until one day her bullying went out of control."

Her words were laced with a quiet bitterness that only someone who had truly suffered could understand. "I grew tired of it all and realized she was indeed nothing but another person who wanted a scapegoat to blame things on. My life depended on games after that. I played and played to seclude myself from this hell of a world."

Awandea's finger jabbed at Demnin's collarbone, pushing him back slightly as she continued. "You wouldn't ever understand a life like that-a torturous sister and father, and the screen being your only escape. But I assume you'd think before you speak next time. It's not nice that you assumed I am a bad person from the get-go, although you might not be wrong there. But I respect your position, and so you better respect mine."

Her words hung in the air between them, a heavy truth that Demnin couldn't easily dismiss. He realized that he had judged her too quickly, without truly understanding the pain she carried.

Awandea seated herself on one of the empty chairs, her posture relaxed but her eyes still sharp. Demnin, still processing her revelation, sat down opposite her, his mind reeling.

"Demnin," Awandea spoke again, her voice softer now, "There are ten wishes we can ask for. Trust me. If you fail, I'll succeed for you."

"What do you mean?" Demnin asked, snapping out of his thoughts. Her words were cryptic, but there was an underlying sincerity that made him pay attention.

"Just in case things go astray for you," she explained, leaning closer to him, "I assure you that I'll make your wish come true for you."

Demnin shook his head, a sad smile forming on his lips. "Once a person dies, they die, Awandea."

She leaned in even closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. "You really think so? Look around you, Demnin. There might be many more like us in some other place, in some other setting, in this same hall. If this game just kills everyone, what is going to happen? No. The dead will come back."

Her words sent a chill down his spine. The thought that the game might have deeper layers, more sinister motives, was a terrifying prospect. "The whole world can't be in the hands of this game. Something else is going on," Awandea added, her eyes narrowing as if she could see through the very fabric of their reality.

As Demnin and Awandea finished their conversation, a heavy silence fell between them. There was a flicker of defiance among the players in the hall amidst the stillness.

Demnin could sense it-the disbelief, the refusal to accept that they were truly trapped in this hellish game forever. A group of players, their eyes wild with denial, started to mutter among themselves, voices rising in a crescendo of rebellion.

"This can't be real," one of them declared, his voice loud and tinged with desperation. "There's got to be a way out of this!"

Another player, a young woman with tears streaming down her face, nodded vigorously. "We're not stuck here forever. This is just a trick! We can beat it, we just have to find the exit!"

Their defiance began to spread like wildfire, igniting the spirits of those around them. A sense of rebellion took hold, driving several players to act. Without warning, they broke into a run, heading for the only visible exit in the hall-a massive, imposing door at the far end.

Panic surged through the crowd, and in a split second, many others followed suit. The hall erupted into chaos as players dashed towards the door, clawing at it in a frenzied attempt to escape. Their hands scratched and battered the heavy wood, nails splitting and breaking as they tried to force their way out. The sound of their desperate efforts filled the hall, creating a cacophony of fear and determination.

Awandea wore a grim look. She knew this wasn't going to end well. She also knew that this was going to be the answer to her question, to her speculation.

Suddenly, a new presence manifested in the hall. The air seemed to thicken with a cold, oppressive energy, and the temperature dropped as if winter itself had crept into the room. Out of the shadows, a tall, elegant woman appeared, her steps silent and her expression unreadable. Her very appearance brought an unnatural stillness to the room, as if time itself had paused to acknowledge her arrival.

The players, still frantic in their attempts to break through the door, barely noticed her at first. But when she spoke, her voice cut through the noise like a blade, freezing everyone in place.

"Hello, players," she said, her tone smooth yet chilling. "I am Alara, guide to the Alara Hall. You will see me in the game rounds as your guide NPC."

Her words hung in the air, the cold certainty in her voice sending shivers down the spines of those who heard it. The crowd turned towards her, their eyes filled with a mixture of confusion and fear. But some, still clinging to their disbelief, continued their futile attempts to escape.

Alara's gaze shifted to those defiant souls. Her lips curved into a cruel smile as she took a step forward. "I came here to show you the consequences of denying your fate in this game."

With a swift motion, she raised her hand, and in an instant, one of the players closest to the door dropped to the ground. His body crumpled lifelessly, his eyes wide with shock and terror. The hall fell into a horrified silence as everyone stared at the fallen player, the reality of their situation finally beginning to sink in.

But even then, some refused to believe it. A few more players, driven by sheer panic, bolted for the door once again, their screams of desperation filling the hall as they tried to flee from the death that had claimed their comrade.

Alara's smile widened. With a flick of her wrist, another player fell, and then another. Each one crumpled to the floor, lifeless, as if their very souls had been ripped from their bodies. The sight was unbearable-bodies hitting the ground with sickening thuds, their deaths as sudden as they were final. Their heads torn apart from their bodies, their limbs twisted which Alara admired proudly as if it were an art piece.

Chaos exploded once more, but this time it was driven by absolute terror. Players scattered in every direction, tripping over each other in their desperate attempts to avoid Alara's deadly gaze. The hall, once filled with frantic energy, was now a scene of carnage and despair. Sixty-four players fell in quick succession, their lives snuffed out like candles in a storm.

The remaining players, too paralyzed by fear to move, could only watch in horror as Alara stepped over the bodies with an air of casual indifference. Her power was undeniable, her control over life and death absolute. She had made her point, and the once defiant crowd was now reduced to a quivering mass of terrified souls.

"I hope you have learned your lesson," Alara said, her voice dripping with cold disdain as she surveyed the room. The dead bodies lay scattered around her, a grim testament to her warning. "Do not try to run away. Because you can't."

The survivors, now subdued and trembling, stood in stunned silence as Alara's words echoed in their minds. The sight of their fellow players, now dead because they had dared to defy their fate, was a grim reminder that there was no escape from this nightmare. The reality of their situation had finally sunk in-the game was real, and their lives were nothing more than pawns on its cruel, twisted board.

As Alara disappeared into the shadows, leaving the room as suddenly as she had arrived, the survivors were left to grapple with the harsh truth: they were trapped in this game, and the only way out was through it. There was no escape, only survival-if they were lucky.