They called the being descending from the light an Cheon-sa, but her actions were anything but holy. Park Jin-ho had learned that hard truth across ninety-nine cycles of regression. This creature was no divine messenger. An orchestrator of this damned game undoubtedly existed, and this so-called Cheon-sa was nothing more than an NPC, a mouthpiece programmed to deliver the rules. Though it presented itself as a game, the reality was a slaughter. A column of brilliant light descended from the sky, and from it emerged a woman who stole the breath from every onlooker. With a pair of pristine white wings, porcelain skin, and a beauty that would put any celebrity to shame, she was the very image of a celestial being from a sacred text. Her appearance was heavenly, Park Jin-ho thought, but her nature was demonic. He alone remained unimpressed. It wouldn't be long before the others realized just how little these beings cared for human lives. “Filthy humans,” the Cheon-sa’s sweet voice dripped with contempt. “Falling for a pretty face like the lustful animals you are. Look at you all, staring with those slack-jawed, idiotic expressions.” She smiled, a vision of cruel beauty. “I advise you not to entertain any foolish thoughts. I have no intention of associating with vultures like you.” Her wicked smile was breathtaking, but no one in the crowd could bring themselves to smile back. How could they, when her words lashed them like a whip? “Oh, look at all your frowning faces. Does that mean my point is getting across? Tee-hee-hee.” It was then that a young man, braver or perhaps more foolish than the rest, shouted the question burning in everyone’s mind. “Who the hell do you think you are? You call yourself an Cheon-sa, talking to us like that?” The Cheon-sa’s gaze settled on him. Park Jin-ho watched with an old, familiar sorrow. May he rest in peace. It always began this way: with a young man who dared to defy her. In the next instant, it happened. The young man’s head simply exploded, bursting like a ripe watermelon. Blood and viscera sprayed across the screaming people nearby. “How dare a lesser being speak to me with such impertinence!” the Cheon-sa shrieked, cursing the headless corpse as if it could still hear her. “And who gave you permission to ask questions? You humans are not qualified to ask me anything. Do not delude yourselves into thinking we are equals. Unless, of course, you’d all like your heads to pop like his.” Her voice, as chilling as a winter grave, silenced the crowd of tens of thousands. A collective breath was held, the terror of knowing a single misplaced word could mean instant, gruesome death. This is what she wants, Park Jin-ho thought. To terrify them into submission, to rob the panicked mob of any chance at rational thought. “Do you not understand the situation you are in?” she asked, her gaze sweeping over them with cold penetration. “Are you truly that ignorant? Well, how could I expect inferior creatures to grasp it? I suppose I must explain it step by step. That is my role, after all.” She continued, her voice clear and merciless. “Every month, on the first day, you humans will fall into a deep slumber. Your souls will be forcibly transferred to a new dimension, where you will awaken.” Soul transfer? A new dimension? It was unbelievable, yet no one could argue. The impossible was standing right before them, her wings casting a long shadow. “Your only task there will be to complete the given quest. If you succeed, you may return to reality and will receive a substantial reward.” No one felt joy at the prospect of returning. The unspoken threat hung heavy in the air: failure meant death. Still, a fragile sliver of hope flickered in some. They didn’t know what the quests entailed, but if they were smart, if they strategized and worked together, they could survive. Surely, they could survive. The Cheon-sa’s next words mercilessly crushed that hope. “However,” she chirped, a sinister chuckle escaping her lips, “simply completing the quest does not guarantee survival. We will only spare the half of you who clear it the fastest. So, I wouldn’t waste any time. Tee-hee.” “Only half of us can survive?” a woman whispered in horror. It was a survival game, governed by a brutal, competitive format. “You will endure twenty rounds, one per month. As I said, only half of the participants may survive each round. And with each round you pass, the quests will become increasingly difficult.” Despair became a mask on every face. The thought of enduring this nightmare not once, but twenty times, was a sentence of unimaginable torment. “Hehehe, but don't you worry too much,” the Cheon-sa cooed. “I won’t be taking all of you. Only humans between the ages of 15 and 29 are eligible for this little game.” An age limit. The impact of the announcement was immediate and devastating. “Well, that means I’m safe.” While adults outside the age range breathed shaky sighs of relief, a cold dread seized those in their teens and twenties. For them, the sky itself felt as if it were collapsing. “But I’m… I’m included, aren’t I?” “What do I do? My birthday was January 1st! I just turned fifteen this year!” A wave of absolute hopelessness washed over the chosen generation. Well, I don’t really have the right to complain, Park Jin-ho thought with grim irony. He might have looked like an ordinary high school student, but he had already lived countless years across ninety-nine regressions. The memories of his endless struggle for survival were etched into his very soul. “Why did it have to be my birthday?” someone cursed under their breath. It was all so profoundly unfair. The Cheon-sa seemed to hear the unvoiced sentiment. “Are some of you feeling unfairly treated? Don’t worry,” she said, her smile widening. “We’re not just taking those of you here. We’ll be taking every eligible human from all over the world!” She couldn't contain her triumphant grin. In that moment, not a single person saw her as beautiful. A demon. That’s what she was. “Let’s see…” she mused, tapping a finger to her chin. “If we narrow it down to humans between fifteen and twenty-nine, the number of participants comes to… one billion, eight hundred and one million, twenty-nine thousand, two hundred and ninety. Well, now that the explanation is over, shall we begin? Te-Hehehe.” It was the moment that 1.8 billion lives were officially press-ganged into a deadly survival game.

Chapter 2: She Wore An Angel's Face