Everything but you

Noah rocked gently in his worn wooden chair, the afternoon sun warming his weathered face as he gazed out over the quiet fields beyond his porch. His thick, curly hair had long since turned silver, and deep lines etched stories of survival and loss across his skin. With a slow, thoughtful sigh, he began to speak, his voice soft but steady, carrying the weight of memories few could imagine.

"I remember my first Games like they were yesterday-the roar of the mutts, the chaos, the fear... and how I became the last one standing."

He paused, eyes distant, as if the jungle and the beasts still lurked just beyond the horizon. "Forty-eight of us, thrown into that hellish place they called the Jurassic World biome. Exotic and deadly creatures everywhere-Olorotitans, Quetzalcoatlus soaring overhead, and predators that could tear you apart before you even saw them coming."

Noah's gaze dropped to his hands, knotted and scarred. "The bloodbath was the worst. I lost friends before I even had a chance to catch my breath. Eli , Analee , Clara . . . all taken by those creatures in the blink of an eye. It was survival of the fittest, but sometimes survival meant being the smartest, not the strongest."

He chuckled dryly. "I wasn't the strongest. Not by far. But I learned to listen-to the rustle of leaves, the distant calls, the subtle shifts in the air. I learned to move like the shadows, to use the land and the beasts against each other."

The old man's eyes twinkled with a mix of guilt and sorrow. "Seven kills, they say. But every one of those names haunts me still. I didn't want to be a killer. I wanted to live. And in that world, sometimes those two things were the same."

Noah leaned back, the rocking slowing. "But that's a story for another time. For now, let me tell you about the Reaping-the day it all began..."