The countdown was agonizingly slow. Each second that ticked by seemed to stretch into eternity, and the tension in the air was palpable. Around Percy, the building's makeshift survivors were in chaos, their voices clashing in a cacophony of panic and confusion.
"What the hell is going on?!" a man near the shattered window bellowed, his voice shaking with hysteria.
"You heard that thing!" a woman argued, clutching a child tightly against her chest. "It said we needed to survive. Maybe we should group up, right? Strength in numbers!"
"No, no, no!" a younger man interjected, his eyes darting wildly. "What if it's a trap? They want us to clump together so it's easier to kill us!"
Percy leaned against a half-broken column, arms crossed, seemingly calm but inwardly spiraling. His heart raced as he tried to keep his breathing steady. Unlike the others, his panic wasn't from a lack of understanding. Oh no, Percy knew exactly what was going on—or at least, he thought he did.
But knowledge wasn't always power. Sometimes, it was just another burden.
He wasn't scared of the creature—no, the Dokkaebi, as he knew it was called. Deep down, of course, he was afraid—who wouldn't be? Yet what really unsettled him was the realization that he was, for all intents and purposes, utterly screwed.
None of the key players from Three Ways to Survive a Ruined World (or TWSA, as he remembered it) were here. Not Yoo Joong-Hyuk, the grim and battle-hardened regressor who could brute-force his way through almost anything. Not even Kim Namwun, the cunning edge lord, opportunist who thrived in chaos.
Instead, Percy was stuck here in New York City.
And he wasn't even sure which round this was.
"Was this Yoo Joong-Hyuk's 0th regression?" Percy muttered under his breath, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "Or the third? Maybe the eighth? Hell, if it's the eighth, I'm really screwed."
His voice was low, meant for no one but himself. Yet the act of speaking out loud grounded him, even as his mind scrambled for answers. In TWSA, Yoo Joong-Hyuk's actions and achievements sent ripples through the world—his name became legend. If this was early in his journey, then there might still be time. But if not?
Percy sighed.
It didn't matter.
Regardless of the timeline, one fact remained glaringly clear: he had no idea what was happening outside of Korea. TWSA almost exclusively took place there. That meant he was fumbling in the dark, blind to the scenarios unfolding in America.
The shouting behind him grew louder as more survivors began arguing over their next course of action.
"Idiots," Percy muttered. "Don't they get it? This isn't a democracy. The star stream doesn't care about their votes or plans. It's kill or be killed. Period."
He glanced at the timer floating above everyone's heads. The seconds were ticking down faster now. He didn't know if that was his imagination or just the weight of the moment crushing him, but either way, it was like sand slipping through an hourglass.
Percy pushed off the column and began walking deeper into the ruined building.
Some of the others called after him.
"Hey! Where are you going?"
"We should stick together!"
"Yeah, man, safety in numbers!"
He waved them off without turning around.
The truth was, Percy didn't trust anyone here. Not because they seemed untrustworthy—most of them were just regular people, scared out of their minds—but because he knew better. He'd read TWSA. He knew that desperation brought out the worst in people.
Sure, on the surface, Percy appeared extroverted. Charismatic, even. He'd spent years crafting that image—smiling, laughing, making connections—all part of the game. But deep down, he was an introvert to the core.
Being around people drained him. Pretending to be someone he wasn't? That drained him even more.
And now? Now he was done pretending.
—
The far side of the building was quieter, away from the panicked crowd. Percy found a broken section of the wall and peered outside. The streets were a mess—cars overturned, debris scattered everywhere, and bodies… so many bodies.
The sight was grim, but it didn't surprise him.
He knew that this was just the beginning.
Percy squatted down, resting his arms on his knees as he stared at the carnage. This is just queens, he thought. "There have to be survivors in other parts of the city. Hell, maybe even other parts of the state. The constellations wouldn't find it entertaining if the slaughter ended too soon."
As if summoned by his thoughts, a booming voice echoed across the sky.
Percy looked up, his teeth clenching involuntarily. Sure enough, the Dokkaebi had returned, its grotesque face split into an unnervingly wide grin.
"I hereby open Channel #118902 for the entertainment of our esteemed constellations!"
A ripple spread across the air, like a crack in reality itself. Percy felt a shiver run down his spine as he saw it—a rift in the sky, glowing faintly, as if inviting unseen eyes to peer through.
"And now," the Dokkaebi continued, "let the constellations join us! Bask in their gaze, mortals, for you may yet earn their favor… or their disdain."
Percy clicked his tongue. "Freaking Dokkaebi."
He hated them in the novel. Seeing one in person was even worse.
The Dokkaebi floated lazily above the ruins, its translucent body shimmering with an unnatural light. Its sharp teeth gleamed as it addressed the survivors.
"Some of you may already be wondering," it said, "what is to come. Fear not! I shall enlighten you."
A pause.
"But first, congratulations to those who survived the first scenario! You've done well to last this long. Truly, I am impressed. However…"
The creature's smile widened unnaturally. "Your journey is far from over. The second scenario begins shortly."
Murmurs of fear and confusion rippled through the crowd. Percy could hear them even from his secluded corner.
"What does it mean, 'second scenario'?"
"Didn't we just survive the first one?"
"Are they seriously going to make us do this again?!"
Percy didn't bother listening. He knew what was coming.
Sort of.
The Dokkaebi raised a hand, and a massive screen materialized in the air, glowing with faint blue light. On it, words began to appear, one by one:
[Scenario #2: Escape the Predators]
[Description: Survive the incoming assault from the designated predators.]
[Difficulty:C+]
[Reward: 500 coins.]
[Penalty for failure: Death.]
The crowd erupted into chaos.
"Predators?! What the hell does that mean?!"
"C+? Isn't this supposed to start off easy?!"
"We're screwed… We're all screwed!"
Percy ignored the noise, his eyes glued to the screen. His fingers twitched at his sides, a nervous habit he couldn't quite shake.
The Dokkaebi continued its announcement, unbothered by the growing panic. "Ah, I should mention: some of you may find this scenario quite… thrilling. Others, well…" It chuckled darkly. "Let's just say, the constellations are eager to see who among you will rise to the occasion."
Percy exhaled sharply, standing up.
"Predators, huh?" he thought. "Let me guess… they'll drop some kind of monster or creature into the area. Standard survival fare."
He glanced back at the group of survivors in the distance. Most of them were still huddled together, shouting at each other or pleading with the Dokkaebi for mercy.
But Percy knew better than to judge them. They were just regular people, thrust into an impossible situation.
But due to his slight knowledge of the novel..
Not everyone could adapt as quickly as he could.
Still, that didn't mean he was going to babysit them.
The Dokkaebi's voice broke through his thoughts.
"And remember, mortals! The constellations are watching. Impress them, and you may earn their favor. Bore them, and, well…" Its grin widened again. "Let's just say you don't want to bore them."
Percy clicked his tongue again, his frustration bubbling to the surface.
"The constellations," he muttered under his breath. "I wonder which ones are watching this channel…"
The countdown for the second scenario appeared above his head.
00:04:59
Five minutes.
Percy's jaw tightened. He needed a plan—and fast.