Enchanted University of Magemenos

Chapter 99:Yet again!

"There are two options for us... either we buy packed food or we grab groceries from the store and cook ourselves in the kitchen," Kate says, already half-strategizing like we're preparing for a zombie apocalypse.

"I think for the first day, buying food is smarter," Nathan adds, ever the rational one. "From tomorrow, once we're more familiar with this place and how everything works, we can move to the grocery-cooking phase."

"Then you can decide what to eat and buy it with your manny," I shoot back, arms folded. I'm not about to splurge on Day One of death games.

We all split up like hungry ants, weaving through the aisles of what can only be described as the world's most overpriced survival store. All of us had not spent a single manny so we had all the 190 manny .I grab a sandwich marked '4 manny'—the cheapest thing in sight. Honestly, it looks like someone slapped lettuce between sadness and cardboard, but hunger has no pride.

The rest trickle in one by one, each with their pitiful treasures: a cracked muffin here, a stale croissant there. Keith dramatically holds up a protein bar like it's a cursed artifact.

We find a shady patch a few miles from the store, plop down on the grass, and devour our tiny meals like stranded tourists. No one talks. Probably because chewing these sandwiches takes all the strength we have.

"So this is lunch in murder camp," Keith mumbles, mouth full. "Luxury."

"Don't complain," Kate says. "At least you're not on someone's funeral screen."

Fair point.

"There was a humangous rush for all the cheap foods.

After devouring out food like a piece of crumble an ant gets we get ready to play the next game.

A buzzer rings incicating all of us to settle in our respective table on the chairs with our name given.

My seat was, I think, the second place among the six to play.

The cards slid into our hands like they were knives meant for our fates. Mine was a red 8—simple, clean, and honestly, I was begging the universe that the first player would drop either a red card or an eight. Just something. Anything.

But hope in this game was like a balloon in a thorn bush. The girl before me casually tossed down a blue 4. My soul died right there.

I had no choice. With a heavy sigh, I reached into the deck and drew. Ten manny. Gone. Like my dignity.

I clutched the new card, praying it wasn't useless, and muttered under my breath, "If I have to give away another double, I'll strangle this deck myself."

I slid the green 4 onto the table with a little too much relief, like it was a lifeline thrown to a drowning person. That left me holding just 1 card now—the red 8 from the start.

It felt... safer, in a way. Every round from now, I'd at least have two options to lean on. Still risky, but not completely hopeless. At least I wasn't stuck staring at a single, useless card waiting for someone's pity.

I quickly did the math in my head. A 4 manny sandwich earlier, plus the 10 manny card I had to buy just now... which meant my balance sat at 176 manny. Not terrible. Not great. Just fair.

I exhaled slowly. 176 manny and a card. That's my standing army.

"Let's hope the universe is kind for once," I muttered, though deep down I knew—kindness didn't exist in this game.

The guy next to me looked like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders—even though it was just three cards in his hand. He'd already forked over 30 manny in the last round, which honestly made me feel a little better about my own miserable 10.

But unlike me, his three cards were like golden tickets: a blue 8, a green 4, and a blue 9. Any of them could fit, like puzzle pieces falling into place. And yet... he sat there acting like this was some life-altering philosophy exam.

He squinted at the table. He scratched his head. He sighed dramatically.

Finally, with all the gravitas of a king declaring war, he dropped the blue 8 onto the pile.

I wanted to laugh. Three perfect matches and he's sweating like it's a marriage proposal. Dude, relax—it's UNO, not who-gets-the-throne.

But hey, at least it worked out for me. A blue 8 meant my red 8 suddenly had a doorway onto the battlefield. My fingers twitched over it, ready to pounce.

If only he had been sitting right before me, I could've slid my red 8 down smooth, no extra cost, no extra drama. But fate clearly wasn't on my side today—UNO gods had other plans.

One by one, everyone threw their cards onto the pile. A blue here, a green there, like confetti falling at some depressing parade.

And just like that, the round ended.

No big twists, no fiery battles—just me stuck with my stubborn red 8 still clinging to life in my hand, as if mocking me.

I leaned back, exhaling through my nose. Great.

*Whoever puts a card on the centre of the table is the owner of that specific card*