They were each equipped with a tactical vest embedded with LED indicators to show their status—alive or dead. In addition, they were given earbud comms, protective helmets, along with elbow and knee guards, to ensure safety during the game.
Each participant received two types of rifles and three types of handguns, along with a hefty supply of ammunition.
The bullets were rubber balls coated with magnetic paper—non-lethal but startling upon impact. When a shot landed, the bullet burst with a splash of red ink, mimicking blood.
The magnetic paper allowed the bullets to be detected by electromagnetic sensors embedded in the vest.
Every successful hit was automatically registered by the system, which tracked how many times a participant had been shot, determining their survival status in real-time.
All of that, Lethia had memorized well the entire night while reading the manual as Chasey slept soundly.
And of course, it led Chasey to ask something that made Rowan and Flo question if it was really right to team up with her.
"How about food? We’ll be there for like 18 hours. That’s almost a whole day. Why don’t we get some food ransom?" Chasey asked innocently.
"Chasey, I’ll give you the summary of the game’s manual if you stop asking questions. So, let’s move." Lethia commanded, silencing Chasey from asking any more questions as they headed towards the shooting range.
***
The blaring whee-woo of the siren drowned out the sound of gunfire echoing through the shooting range.
Every candidate halted what they were doing—the alarm marked the end of training. It was time to gather on the field and head to the arena for The Red Mission game.
The committee had given them the chance to try both handguns and rifles, making sure the candidates could at least handle the basics. But when it came to hitting precise targets, not everyone could pull it off.
Lethia was panting hard, eyes locked on the scoreboard—she’d scored a 7.8 out of 10. Not bad for a first-timer.
It was the kind of fake gun they’d be using in the game, and honestly? She didn’t find it that hard to use. It was light enough, not as heavy as a real one—just like they’d said.
"Huh? Are we going straight to the game? Without lunch?" Chasey asked, all innocent like always.
Lethia just shrugged, lips pouting slightly. The game building was basically an office. They even had a cafeteria and a pantry—standard perks, like any corporate setup.
The game’s manual mentioned that candidates could help themselves to whatever was available.
Still, Lethia couldn’t quite picture how they were supposed to eat with every team going neck and neck, fighting over red cards.
The thought made her shudder.
Even if it wasn’t real combat, even if no actual weapons were involved and lives weren’t technically on the line—Just the vest decided who was alive or dead—the idea of messing with basic human needs like food?
That alone made it feel a little too much like real survival.
In the worst case, they’d have to endure a whole day without food. Humans could handle that—barely. But werewolves? No fucking way.
Even during normal activities, they could devour a portion meant for three grown humans. And now they were about to get thrown into a physical mission?
Lethia chuckled at the image forming in her head—the cafeteria might turn into one of the bloodiest zones, smeared with red paint like a real battlefield.
And of course, she was right.
When they gathered in the field, each candidate was handed just two snack packs—one sweet, one salty—just enough to keep their stomachs from howling.
Real food? That would be available inside the building cafeteria... later.
The loud, annoyed murmurs of candidates filled the field, buzzing like flies. It was already lunchtime, and they weren’t having it.
Complaints came from all directions, most of them demanding that they get to eat first before being thrown into the game.
But just like that, the rumbling complaints died when a deep mechanical hum replaced them.
From behind the crowd, five mini trucks rolled in—wheels thudding boldly against the asphalt.
Heads turned instinctively, every candidate’s gaze tracking the trucks as they screeched to a halt right in front of them.
One by one, the trainers jumped out from the back of the trucks, each calling out team names and assigning squad designations.
Lethia’s team was called out as Squad B2, which meant they’d be stationed in Building B, team number 2.
Candidates were herded into the trucks—cramped, cold, and windowless. But it wasn’t the lack of space or air that made Lethia’s chest feel tight... and Chasey’s breathing grow shallow.
No.
It was the presence of the others.
The enemy.
In that same truck, shoulder to shoulder, sat Squad B1—Thania’s team. Her as captain, and right next to her? Arnold. And fucking Victor.
They looked at Squad B2 with eyes full of mockery.
"Hah, looks like our game won’t even need that much energy. This looks too easy," Victor said with a smug, taunting smirk.
"So this is the team you ended up with after rejecting my offer, Adam? Interesting..." Thania added with that belittling expression, like Adam would regret not choosing her.
"Of course we’re interesting. Don’t you know we’re the special ones here? We’ve got a famous strong mommy everyone adores," Chasey, who’d clearly had enough of Thania’s face from the second they locked eyes, blurted out like a kindergartener clapping back at a playground insult.
’Oh Goddess, can’t this girl just shut her mouth?’ Lethia clenched her lips and looked away, resisting the urge to scold Chasey in front of the enemy.
["Whoaa... this is getting juicy... I smell a catfight coming."]
’I’m not interested.’
["Isn’t that the chick who’s obsessed with Caelum? Ugh. Just imagine if she finds out what you did with him... mmm, sticky sweet jelly."]
Lethia didn’t even want to think about what happened with Caelum—especially not if that rabid fanbase of his ever got a whiff. That secret? She’d bury it deep. Grave-deep.