The next moment that I remembered was waking up in a very tiny room. Of course, I never remember them gassing me, getting an injection or just them hitting me unconscious. However, since I no longer was part of the twenty-first century, it was very likely that they had invented ways to do it without me even realizing it. It’s like narcosis. They tell you to count to ten and then you wake up hours or days later, everything over.

The room was pure white, containing a small bed, a table with a chair, and an empty shelf. There was only one exit that was made of a metal door. At the very edge of the room’s ceiling, there was a small bubble that I only could assume to be a camera.

In most cases, one could ignore all of that information that I just had gathered. After all, I’ve been kidnapped and I’m stuck in a jail-like room, so it’s natural that I would be panicking and focusing on my own well-being. But perhaps this is one of the few times when my past gave me a hand. I’ve been kidnapped and held locked in a room before… by loan sharks. So, I was avoiding the part that first-timers always went through -- panic. I was still stressed, and my heart was pumping harder than ever before… but I controlled my brain activity.

Obviously, they wanted me to know that they were watching. They could have… no, they most definitely have a few other cameras hidden in this room, just in case, from different angles.

The empty shelf must’ve been placed there for a reason as well. Probably because I could place something else there at some later point. It probably meant I’ll be coming back here often… if I survived.

I turned to look at the table. It was now when I noticed a paper placed on it. My first reaction was to push myself towards it, to grab it and read it. But just before grabbing it, I stopped myself. They were probably looking at me, examining my reaction. Would I start crying? Would I become aggressive and trash the place? What reaction should I show?

No. They knew me. That weird man before had said it himself. They have been watching me from the beginning. So they probably knew about some of my behavior. Maybe they do not know about my past, but they certainly know that I am more of a calmer person. I grabbed the letter that was folded twice, hiding the initial content. With shaking hands, I opened it.

It would be funny if that was the wifi password, I thought.

-----

Mr. Daniel.

We apologize for your current situation, however, this is required to make sure you’d have a safe place you can return, you can trust. You’ve been transported to a facility where others -- just like you -- have been gathered. Here, you’ll be playing in different games against or with others to decide the next successors and benefactors of the Corporation.

The games are voluntary, and you can quit at any point, starting from the moment of reading this letter. If you quit, lose a game, or have no means to continue your participation, you will be eliminated from the game and sent back to your original home.

The winners will be responsible for the next steps of humanity, pushing us forward and making sure that we have the brightest future ahead of us. Such responsibility comes with perks, riches, and a place in this world. You will no longer be a null.

The decision and whether you’re up for the task is yours. Think carefully about that future of yours.

The first game will commence tomorrow.

May the luck always be in your favor,

The Game Master.

-----

I released a long sigh, falling back onto the bed. There was too much information to analyze. They intentionally threw hints in there that might answer some questions. For starters, if I want to see Hayley again, I need to win this, otherwise, they will send me back to the original world. Of course, what does that even mean? Will they remove my memories in the process? Of course, they could always lie or it could have a hidden meaning. And by that I mean, If I lose, I die.

There was also the fact that being stuck here was protecting me. That can only mean that some games can have aggressive end results. Someone might want to kill me later. Or there are dangers outside of this room that could kill me. Unlikely. Learning that it was just a game, I could only think of the hostility of the games.

Of course, there was also that participation was voluntary. But remembering the guy before left me the impression that it was a game of survival. The likely outcome of… not surviving… is death. At least in some form.

And finally, what does being a successor mean? Why do they decide such things through games? Do they want to test our qualities? Is it a false promise to keep us motivated?

I groaned and began to hug my legs in bed. Obviously, I was meant to overthink this. I imagine every participant was analyzing the letter to the best of their ability. I’m not the smartest guy, even though I consider myself not to be an idiot either. So, missing something that could save my life is scary.

While thinking and analyzing, they gave me food through an iron door hole that was opened at the bottom of the door. Soon the day was over, which was signaled through lamps getting dimmer. Even though I expected to not sleep even a tiny bit, eventually I did fall asleep.

And the truth was simple… I thought of many games and possibilities, but eventually, none of it mattered, because I really had not even the slightest idea where the fuck I was and what was going to happen to me.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

The next day, I got my morning food, which admittedly was a lot better than any food I had eaten throughout the last year. If anything, I would've wanted Hayley to taste it. That meant that whoever had me was rich enough to provide it and that they wanted me to be well fed. I had few ideas about who might be behind it all.

Steam was released from the nearby door as it opened. First I saw two men in full armor enter, wearing familiar masks on the night of capture. Once they had secured the room, a more familiar face entered to room, this time without his coat, but a more familiar suit that most rich people wore. Now that I was in a room with a literal white wall behind him, it was rather easy to examine him more closely. An older man, already white hair and beard, holding a cane to lean against. But unlike the old people I knew, his skin was near perfect with no sign of wrinkles or scarring. I got myself up, moved my chair towards him, and got myself seated.

“Why aren’t you wearing a mask?” I decided not to let him say the first words, even if it was just out of spite.

“Because I’m important. They are not.” The old man had a point. He waited a moment if I had any other stupid questions. I had many. There was, however, no point to ask them yet. “Did you sleep well? Was food up for your liking?”

“I’d say yeah,” I answered, surprised by his questions.

“Good. You need every bit of energy you can get. I’m Herbert, your sponsor.”

“Sponsor? What does that even mean?” I asked.

“It means that I’m probably the only ally in this hellhole you really have until you either win it or lose it.”

“That’s what they all say,” I said, crossing my hands.

“But they aren’t in front of you with two armed men next to them, telling you so,” he said, not afraid to challenge my remarks. “By all means, don’t trust me. It’s wise not to. But I am your ally. So use me, think of ways to get most out of me.”

“Do others also have a sponsor?” I asked.

“Good, you’re learning. I admire your calmness,” he said. He looked at his guards and motioned with his head towards the door. The guards left, hesitantly.

“And I admire your guts.”

“I’d defeat you with eyes closed,” the old man said, putting the cane behind him, and letting it go. Instead of falling down, it began to tear itself into small pieces, changing shape, until it had turned into a chair. Herbert sat down on it. “Yes. But only because I've earned it." He waved his hands towards me to ask any questions I might have.

“What does losing exactly mean?”

“You’ll be sent back home.”

“And what does that mean?”

“Exactly how it sounds like. You’ll be put back where you came from.”

I examined him, trying to read his expression, but he was stone cold. I sighed. “What are the games? Are there any dangerous games? Can I die?”

“Game contents will be told to all participants at the same time, at the beginning of the game. Yes, not they might, but they are very dangerous. Yes, you can die.”

At least Herbert wasn’t serving me some bullshit. “Why are you helping me?”

“To increase your odds of winning as much as I can.”

“Why are you my sponsor? What do you get out of this?”

“I chose you as my champion. Just like every other participant was chosen by someone else. Your winning will also bring me rewards that I’d very much like to have. But it’s not a necessity for me.”

“Who is behind all of this?” I asked the question I expected not to get the answer to.

“The Company, of course,” Herbert said without hesitation. “Did you read the letter? Only The Company can be responsible for everything you read." He leaned slightly closer. "Which also makes it not illegal, in case you wonder."

“Kidnapping is not illegal?” I said quickly, almost spitting out the words, leaning slightly forward as well. Despite both of us doing it, there was still quite a distance between us.

Herbert snorted, relaxed, and placed his hand into his pocket, searching for something and pulling out that looked like a mechanical pipe. But instead of him lightning it, it did all of that by itself. He inhaled through the pipe and released a fume that smelled surprisingly great.

“The moment you entered this world, you’re our property,” he said.

“You mean kidnapped me from my old world,” I responded.

“No, more like saved you,” he said.

I was stunned. That bastard really thought that. There was no doubt in his mind. I decided not to pursue this topic for now. “How many winners are there?” I asked.

“We do not know. We do not have a set number. That would be stupid and could let someone who is not worthy pass. But we estimate around ten.”

“Out of…?”

“Sadly I cannot answer that. And don't pursue this question further.”

I pushed my teeth together. He noticed that and smirked.

“It seems that that’s as much time I have for your questions,” he abruptly announced but did not try to stand up yet. “What is your weapon of choice?”

“What?”

He smirked. “Oh, I see.”

This was another moment of information, but also a possibility of me fucking up. But if he really was my ally, not a major one. There were others who would've said some kind of weapon without hesitation that they were proficient with. I, however, had none. For most of my life, I was a runner, not a fighter. I knew a bit about self-defense and Hayley also taught me some more, but that’s about it.

“If you have none, I can suggest you some,” he said after he noticed me stuck in my thought process.

“You’re welcome to do so,” I said.

“Stun gun, a gun, a laser, knife, or sword. These sound basic enough.” Was that bastard even trying? But he had a point.

“What’s the difference between a gun and a laser gun?”

“Laser won’t make any sound, while gun does. Laser has a limited amount of charges but is more difficult to aim and can be more easily countered with anything. With a gun, you have a limited amount of bullets, but you can reload it anywhere. With laser pistol, once you are out, you’re out until you recharge at station… or in your case in this room.” That information was more for general knowledge.

“Can I take shield?” I asked. I caught him by surprise.

“But it’s not a weapon?” he said slowly but followed with a chuckle. “But sure. You can always use a shield as a weapon. What shield are you looking for?”

“Anything that can block… all of that you mentioned above?”

“Deflector shield,” Herbert said. “You can hide it on your arm too. Edges are also quite sharp when you activate them. You can hold it active for ten minutes though. Then it needs recharging.”

“How do they use it in actual combat?” I had to ask. “Seems quite bad for such a short time.”

“In war, it’s part of the actual armor and in armor, there's a power source. In your case, it’s standalone. And it’s intentionally limited.”

“I’ll take it.”

“Interesting,” he said, giving me a nod of approval.

If I can’t fight, I can at least try to protect myself. That was my process of thought. And since there’s more than one winner, there’s always a possibility of alliances. It was more likely that most participants would choose an actual weapon, after all.

“You’ll receive your shield within an hour,” he said, standing up, and picking up a chair that naturally turned into his old black cane.

“Any tips for the first game?” I asked.

“The round of questions is over,” he said, walking towards the exit that was opening with a release of steam. “But I’ll say this much; everyone you're about to meet is probably as cunning as you. Stay one step behind, and you're dead. Question everything. Just like you've been doing it till now.” And without showing any emotion, he walked out of the room, letting the door close behind him

I stood up and let my body fall back on the bed, looking at the white ceiling. “I’m so screwed,” I murmured.