Chapter 2: The Hunter's Return

He rapped his skull for emphasis, pausing to let the words sting. I stared back, refusing to flinch.

He patted my shoulder, winked, then called his crew over to the big couch, flopping down like he was holding court.

The slap on my shoulder lingered, heavy and dismissive. His crew laughed, spreading out across the couch, throwing their feet up like they’d just bought the place.

I said nothing, just kept massaging my scarred fingers, letting the pain anchor me.

It was a small thing, but it kept me steady. I needed something real to hold onto.

The memories from two years ago came flooding back, uninvited.

I could almost hear the buzz of neon, smell the antiseptic, feel the cold sweat on my back. I was right back in that nightmare.

"Mason, get through this round and we’ve got it made. Trust me—once you enter the Gate of Judgment, pick the Sword of Justice on the left. As long as you get the Sword of Justice, you’ll be the biggest winner this round. When we win, don’t forget our deal—split the prize money fifty-fifty."

Jake’s voice echoed in my mind—slick, reassuring, the way con men sound right before they take you for everything you’ve got.

"Don’t worry! Jake, if it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have gotten such a high score. Just wait, I’ll go in and get the Sword of Justice."

I remembered the rush of hope, the belief that maybe, just this once, things would work out. I was a fool, and I knew it.

The scene flashed by in my mind. I came out of the Gate of Judgment holding the Sword of Justice, joy bursting in my chest, ready to claim victory.

I could still feel the weight of the prop in my hand, the cheers in my ears, the wild hope that maybe luck was finally on my side.

But when the dealer announced my score, my smile froze in place.

The world seemed to tilt. My stomach dropped, and the room went dead silent.

"Why? I clearly got the Sword of Justice, the highest-scoring item. You must have made a mistake!"

My voice had cracked, desperate. I’d looked around for someone—anyone—to back me up. There was only silence.

"We didn’t make a mistake. You got the Black Magic Sword. It’s a death item; you lose 500 points. Now, your score is the lowest of all players."

The words were cold, final. I felt the blood drain from my face. The Sword of Justice in my hand suddenly felt like a cruel joke.

"Mr. Mason, unfortunately, this round is over. You lost. Now you have two choices: pay a $1 million penalty, or lose two fingers." The dealer’s cold voice hit me like a hammer.

No mercy. No way out. I remember my hands shaking, the walls closing in, the urge to scream.

The scene shifted again, and Jake’s grinning face filled my mind.

He looked like a guy who’d just hit the jackpot. The smugness in his eyes made my blood boil.

"Mason, you need brains to play this game. Why can’t you get that? That’s right, I swapped the Sword of Justice for the Black Magic Sword. You had a higher score than me, so I played a little trick."

He said it like it was nothing, like stealing my future was just another Tuesday.

"Split the prize? Who’s that dumb? Why should I give you half my winnings?"

His laughter echoed, sharp and ugly. I wanted to hit him, but I just stood there, frozen.

"$1.5 million, I’ll gladly keep it all."

He flashed a wad of cash, the kind you see in movies. My stomach churned.

"Also, my name’s not Jake. I’m Hunter Snake, a professional player. You know what that means? I analyze the rules for loopholes, then find a sucker like you and—slice!—harvest the cash. Isn’t this the easiest way to make money?"

Snake gave a sinister grin, his beady eyes cold as a viper’s.

The nickname fit. He slithered through every rule, every promise, always coming out on top.

A Hunter. Two years later, I ran into him again.

It felt like fate had a twisted sense of humor. I wondered if he even remembered the deal he broke, or if I was just another notch in his belt.

I watched him quietly as he stretched out on the sofa, legs splayed in comfort.

He looked perfectly at ease, like this was just another Sunday afternoon. His confidence was infuriating—and contagious.

His five underlings sat around him. The one with gold hair was nicknamed Goldie, the one with silver hair was Silver. I didn’t recognize the other three—they were probably hired muscle.

They looked tough, the kind of guys who didn’t ask questions. Their eyes darted around, sizing up the competition.

Lost in memory, I barely noticed when the dealer for this round appeared.

The sudden hush in the room snapped me back to the present. Every head turned toward the figure stepping forward.

The dealer wore a black robe and a mask, stepping into the center of the hall.

He looked like a magician at a Vegas show—dramatic, theatrical, but there was nothing friendly about the way he moved.

"Good evening, players. Welcome to Black Goat Game. I will now announce the content and rules for this round." His voice was mechanical and strange, filtered through a voice changer.

The sound was unsettling, like an old radio broadcast—emotionless and distant. It made the whole thing feel even more surreal.

"This round will take place in this town. We’ve marked the boundaries with obvious signs and barriers. During the game, leaving the area is forbidden. Violators will be disqualified and fined $500,000. Once the game starts, you can’t leave or quit midway. Doing so also incurs a $500,000 penalty."

The stakes were clear. The room was silent, tension thick as molasses.

No one objected, and no one quit.

We’d all agreed to these terms and signed the contract before coming. Everyone here was a true gambler.

We all knew what we were getting into. There was no turning back now.

"Now, I’ll explain the game’s content and rules. In this round, the dealer will advance each of you 50 game coins. These can be used to buy items, trade with other players, and so on, but robbing other players for coins is strictly forbidden. Violators will be disqualified and fined $500,000."

I could hear someone in the back mutter under their breath—something about the rules being airtight. Nobody laughed.

"After the game ends, everyone must return 50 game coins to the dealer. Any coins over 50 are yours to keep as profit. If you have fewer than 50, you must make up the difference as debt."

The mention of debt sent a ripple of unease through the room. I saw a few people shift in their seats, eyes narrowing in calculation.

"Each game coin is worth $10,000. 50 coins equals $500,000."

The math was simple, but the numbers felt heavy. Half a million dollars, just for playing. Or losing.

"The objective this round: Find the lost cards. The town is scattered with three types of cards: sun, moon, and star. Collect one sun, three moons, and ten stars to exchange for ten game coins. The ratio is 1 sun : 3 moons : 10 stars. If you lack any one, you can’t exchange for coins."

I scribbled the ratios in my notebook, trying to work out the odds. The guy next to me did the same, his pen tapping nervously.

"To get cards, there’s only one way: complete tasks assigned by shop owners in town. The specifics of each task you’ll discover after the game starts."

I wondered what kind of tasks they’d come up with—probably something designed to break you down, test your limits.

"Besides sun, moon, and star cards, there’s a special Black Goat card. One Black Goat card can be exchanged directly for 10 game coins. But to get a Black Goat card, you need to unlock a hidden task. That depends on your luck and your insight."

Hidden tasks. The words hung in the air, heavy and electric. My pulse quickened, curiosity and dread tangled together.

"After collecting cards, you can go to the Black Goat shop on the top floor of the clock tower at the west end of town to exchange them for game coins. The Black Goat shop also sells auxiliary items you may need for shop tasks, which you can buy with game coins."

I pictured the clock tower, looming over the town like a watchful eye. The shop sounded like a place where fortunes could change in an instant.

"This round runs from 9 a.m. on October 14 to 9 p.m. on October 16—a total of three days. Every night from 9 p.m. to 9 a.m. is rest time. Please go to the Black Goat shop to exchange coins before the game ends."

Three days. That was plenty of time for things to go wrong—or right.

"At 9 p.m. on October 16, all players will gather in this hall. The player with the most coins wins an extra $3 million. If there’s a tie, the prize is split."

The promise of that much money made my head spin. For a moment, I let myself imagine what it would feel like to win.

"The player with the fewest coins pays a $1 million penalty. If there’s a tie for last, the penalty is split."

The penalty was a guillotine hanging over every head. I glanced around, wondering who would crack first.

"These are the rules for this round. Finally, remember: cards can only be obtained by completing shop tasks, triggering hidden tasks, or trading with other players. Violence, threats, or other forms of robbery are strictly forbidden. All trades must take place in the trading hall at the town center, or else the trade is invalid."

The warning was clear: play by the rules, or pay the price. I made a mental note to keep my head down and my wits about me.

"This villa has a room for each player. You’ll receive your room card shortly. The restaurant is on the second floor, open 24 hours, with free meals and lodging. Rest well tonight. The game starts at 9 a.m. tomorrow."

A free meal and a bed sounded almost luxurious, but I knew better than to trust the hospitality.

After explaining the rules, the dealer stepped aside. His cold mask revealed no emotion.

He melted into the shadows, leaving us alone with our thoughts and our fears.

The hall instantly erupted in chatter as people discussed the rules. I remained silent in my corner, invisible.

The noise was overwhelming—everyone talking at once, voices rising in excitement and anxiety. I tuned it out, focusing on the details that mattered.

But my mind was racing.

Every scenario played out in my head, each one ending with either victory or disaster. I needed a plan, and fast.

Soon, I spotted a loophole in the game and thought of a way to win.

It was there, just beneath the surface—a thread I could pull. My heart beat faster as I pieced it together.

I was excited, just about to make a plan, when three sharp claps—"pa pa pa"—rang out above the din.

The sound cut through the noise like a gunshot. Instinctively, I looked up.

Instinctively, I looked up. Snake was standing in the center of the hall, a mysterious smile on his face, surveying the room.

He looked like a man about to make a sales pitch. The confidence in his posture was unmistakable.