The Ultimate Hunt

2.

Once the lottery ended, we were escorted outside to a bus. The air was heavy with tension, and the silence between the chosen contestants was suffocating. Each of us had our own row, with a guard seated next to us, keeping a close eye to prevent any "accidents".

In the earlier years of the Ultimate Hunt, when the games were still new and their format was constantly being changed, many contestants had tried to escape their fate in the only way they could think of; by ending their lives before the games even began. The brutality of what lay ahead pushed many over the edge. They chose to die on their own terms rather than endure the horrors of the Hunt.

It became such a problem that the organizers started replacing anyone who committed suicide before leaving the Ghetto, ensuring there would always be sixteen contestants. But that wasn't enough to stop the rising number of cases. So, they introduced the guards.

Now, no one would have the chance to avoid playing. The guards ensured that once your name was drawn, there was no way out. They watched us like hawks, making sure we stayed alive long enough to face the nightmare we were about to step into.

I stared out of the window, watching the familiar streets of the Ghetto pass by like a distant memory. My mind raced, struggling to grasp what had just happened. In a single moment, everything I'd worked for, every careful step I'd taken to avoid risks, had been snatched away. Just like that.

All those years of navigating school, keeping my head down, doing everything I could to dodge the spotlight, it was all for nothing. Now, I was heading straight into the one thing I'd spent my entire life avoiding: the Ultimate Hunt.

I could feel Hanako's gaze on me, but I didn't turn to face him. I didn't feel like it, nor did I have the words to offer. My mind was too tangled with my own fears, too consumed by the weight of the situation. 

Hanako didn't say anything. Maybe he understood, or maybe he was just as lost as I was. But the feeling of his constant stare wasn't making it any easier for me to focus.

First, they took us to the dormitory to pack our belongings. We were allowed to bring one bag or suitcase, just enough to carry whatever personal items we thought might help us survive or at least make the whole experience a little less unbearable. The rules were surprisingly pretty chill. Almost anything was allowed, as long as it wasn't something absurd like explosives. Not that any of us had access to that kind of stuff anyway.

A guard trailed behind me, watching my every move as I entered my room. I tried not to think too much about it, focusing instead on the task at hand. I grabbed a suitcase from under my bed and started packing clothes, basic necessities, and the one thing I knew I needed, a notepad and pen. Writing had always been a way for me to keep my thoughts in order whenever I felt lost.  And in a place where nothing would make sense anymore, I figured writing would be the only way to keep myself sane.

The guard stayed silent, watching me as I packed. Occasionally, he'd rush me, tapping his foot or sighing impatiently, but after I finally told him to fuck off or I will poke my eye out, he shut up.

I felt a strange calmness, like everything was happening in slow motion. Maybe it was shock, or maybe I was just too numb to care anymore. Either way, I was ready to leave this place behind and just go to whatever hell they wanted to throw me into.

We headed back to the bus and drove away, leaving the Ghetto. No one exchanged a word. Some stared out the window, while others just looked down at their hands or the floor, lost in their thought.

After an hour or two, we finally reached our destination: the capital. The streets were lined with tall buildings, glimmering with glass and metal. Expensive cars zoomed past, and everywhere I looked, there were signs of wealth and power. The air felt charged with energy, buzzing with life that felt completely foreign to us.