The Devil's Number

Ray opened his eyes to pure whiteness, stretching endlessly around him. He was standing, yet there was no ground beneath his feet. His skin felt smooth, his body flawless and unmarked by life’s hardships. He realized suddenly that he was completely naked, but strangely, he felt no embarrassment. Just calm, eerie stillness.

Before he could speak, a translucent screen appeared silently in front of him.

WELCOME RAY CLAYTON
PLEASE COMPLETE THE PERSONALITY INTEGRATION SURVEY BEFORE ENTERING ELYSIUM.

Ray took a breath as the first question appeared.

Question 1: Are you a leader or a follower?

"Leader, I think." Ray answered, voice steady.

Question 2: Are you an adventurer or a craftsman?

"Adventurer."

Question 3: Do you prefer strategy or direct combat?

"Strategy, but that doesn’t mean I won’t fight." he replied firmly, curiosity growing.

The questions changed subtly, growing darker, sharper.

Question 17: Would you sacrifice a stranger to save yourself?

Ray hesitated. "No."

Question 18: Would you kill your brother to save a town of strangers?

A cold chill ran through him. "No."

Question 19: Would you kill a town full of strangers to save your brother?

Ray swallowed, feeling a tightness in his chest. "Yes."

Question 20: How many people would you kill if they were hunting your friends?

Ray paused, his eyes intense. "As many as it takes."

Each answer, heavier than the last.
Each choice slicing deeper.

He wasn’t choosing skills.
He was revealing himself.

And something — something unseen — was watching.

The screen blinked once, then vanished.

Suddenly, reality shifted violently.

The world changed.

Ray stumbled onto cold cobblestone, gasping as the roar of countless voices exploded around him. He was standing naked in the center of a vast, medieval-style town square—Gem City. Tall stone buildings and ancient towers loomed around, banners flapping gently in the breeze.

"Ray!"

He spun, confused, as Dean ran up grinning widely. Dean tossed him a white bodysuit. "Put this on, quick! Everyone's spawning in naked. It's hilarious!"

Ray quickly slipped into the suit, feeling it mold perfectly to his skin. Behind Dean, Trey approached casually, Marsden at his side laughing softly at the chaos.

Trey gestured around, amused. "Look at them all. The entire player base trapped naked in one place."

Marsden chuckled, but his eyes betrayed nervousness. "The streets are blocked off. We can't leave the square."

Ray scanned the area, absorbing the scene fully for the first time. Thousands of players milled restlessly, packed tightly, shouting demands for the game to start, for someone to explain what was going on. Anxiety simmered beneath their laughter and confusion.

Dean nudged Ray lightly. "Relax, big brother. This is going to be incredible."

Ray nodded, forcing a smile. But something felt deeply off.

The brothers spawned together in the center of a city — a place called Gem City.

Stone streets twisted like rivers through towering buildings built by hand, not machine.
The air buzzed with the hum of magic — wild, raw, beautiful.

In the distance, mountains clawed at the horizon.
To the west, forests so thick they swallowed light.
To the east, a frozen wasteland glittering like shattered diamonds.

Above them, black ravens circled — not mindless drones, but watchers, almost intelligent.

And in the center of it all:
A thirty-foot black obelisk, cracked by time, thirteen empty slots climbing toward the heavens.

Atop the obelisk stood a man —
barefoot, in a gray tattered suit, sharp blue eyes, and his long greasy, unkempt hair brushed to the side by his hand. He was grinning wildly knowing the ending of this story and couldn’t wait for everyone else to catch up.

Mr. Sparks. The sole creator of the game.

He raised his hands, and his voice carried through the square, smooth and eager:

"Welcome, players!
Welcome to Elysium — a world made not by me, but by YOU."

He smiled wide enough to hurt.

"This is your world now.
Your choices. Your kingdoms. Your wars. Your dreams."

The crowd murmured — excitement, fear, disbelief.

"Find the thirteen Totems I’ve scattered across the world, return them here to this very obelisk and then the game will end and you all will be free. There is no way out other than playing the game."

He let that sink in, his blue eyes shining like knives.

"No cheats. No hacks.
No mercy if you fail."

"But here... at least you have a fair shot. Not like in the real world!"

Sparks looked around, like a proud father at his forgotten son's graduation he didn’t get invited to.

"I want to see what you build, you beautiful bastards."

And with a laugh that sounded more excited than cruel —
he vanished. The gates around the town square began to slowly open. Inviting players to take the first steps into this new world.

The brothers stood frozen in the chaos.

Trey watching the crowd warily.
Marsden vibrating with excitement.
Dean quiet, cold, calculating.
Ray standing still evaluating the situation he now found himself in — feeling the weight already settling into his bones.

The Gem City Square was a riot of bodies. Millions of players—all wearing the same white skinsuit. No weapons. No UI. No health bars. No names.

Just people. Everywhere.

The world was wide open.
The future was unwritten.

It was theirs — to win, to lose, to die for.

Above them, the ravens cried —
as if singing the first notes of a war hymn.

Ray looked up at the black obelisk.
At the thirteen hollow slots.

And one thought echoed in his head like the toll of a funeral bell:

"What have I done?”

He didn’t know yet.
But he would.

Chaos erupted around them like a bomb had gone off.

The square at the heart of Gem City became a churning storm of bodies —
players shouting, laughing, sprinting toward the massive iron gates that barred the road to the open fields.

Multiple racks of weak weapons had spawned on the edges of the square,

Swords flashed in the sun.
Magic crackled in the air — lightning bolts misfired, fireballs exploded harmlessly into the stone.
People shoved past each other, hungry for something they couldn't name yet.

Freedom.
Power.
Glory.

Maybe they thought it was still just a game.

Ray stood in the middle of it, feeling smaller than he had in years.

Beside him, Trey shifted, eyes scanning the chaos with restless energy. As he casually came walking back from a nearby weapon rack.
Trey was built like a battering ram — heavy, broad-shouldered, with a two-handed greatsword strapped across his back.
The blade was crude, chipped in places, but it looked at home there — a mirror of the man who carried it.

Marsden practically vibrated beside them, crackling with nervous excitement.
His brown hair stuck up at odd angles, and his blue eyes shone like stars.

"We gotta move, man!" Marsden barked, almost hopping from foot to foot.
"C’mon, before all the good quests are gone!"

Dean stood a few steps back, hands in the pockets of his skinsuit, scanning the crowd with sharp, dispassionate eyes.

Thin.
Tattooed arms visible under rolled sleeves.
The long ponytail shifting with the breeze.

Watching.
Calculating.

"If we run with the herd," Dean said, voice low, "we die with the herd."

Trey snorted, hoisting the greatsword onto one shoulder like it weighed nothing.

"What, you wanna sit around and knit sweaters instead?"

Marsden cracked up. Dean just shrugged.

Ray’s hands tightened into fists.

He could feel it — the pull of the crowd, the excitement burning the fear away.
Every instinct said move.

But instincts got you killed when you don’t see the full picture.

Ray planted his feet and spoke, slow and firm:

"We stay close. We don't chase glory.
We get strong.
We survive."

The brothers hesitated — but something in Ray’s voice hit them deeper than they wanted to admit.

Slowly, one by one, they nodded.

The gates of Gem City opened with a deep, grinding groan.

And the players flooded into the fields —
a living tide of bodies screaming for adventure.

The four brothers stayed back.
Watching.
Waiting.

The open field beyond the gates stretched like a dream —
rolling green hills, wild forests, distant mountains.
Glittering lakes that caught the sunlight like pools of liquid diamonds. Giant wild magic storms rolled in the distance as if the world was alive itself and not made out of pixels.

The world was raw.
Untouched.
Alive.

And somewhere, just out of sight, it was hungry.

Their first fight came faster than expected.

Barely an hour out of the city, crossing a grassy ridge, they heard it —
a low, snarling growl.

Out from the bushes burst a pack of creatures:

Direhounds.

Twice the size of wolves.
Black fur matted with blood.
Eyes glowing like molten coals.

Six of them.
Snarling. Foaming.
Tails thrashing the air like whips.

Trey grinned, a wicked flash of teeth.

"Finally," he said, slamming the tip of his greatsword into the ground with a heavy thund.

The direhounds surged forward in a blood-mad frenzy.

Ray felt time shiver.

The world around him slowed —
the grass bending slower in the wind,
the hounds' paws thudding like distant drums.

Ray’s magic awakened —
Time Magic.

He didn’t stop time completely — that was beyond him.
But he could bend it, stretch it, just enough.

He reached out, shifted Marsden’s body a foot to the left —
just enough to dodge a lunging bite that would’ve ripped his throat out.

Blue veins of magic flickered at Ray’s fingertips.

"MOVE!" he barked, releasing the time-grip on his brothers.

Trey moved first.

He charged, dragging his greatsword with one hand,
shadow magic wrapping his form like black smoke.

A direhound lunged — and Trey dropped into a shadow, reappearing behind it like a nightmare.

His greatsword cleaved downward with a roar —
slamming the beast into the dirt with bone-shattering force.

The impact kicked up a shockwave of dirt and blood.

Trey didn’t stop moving —
he dipped again, vanishing into the next shadow —
reappearing at another hound’s flank.

Momentum was Trey’s weapon.

He wasn't fast.
He wasn't pretty.

He was inevitable.

Marsden struck next.

The youngest Clayton roared,
lightning crackling around his fists.

Electric Gauntlets formed along his arms —
shining arcs of pure blue energy coiling around his skin.

He surged forward, faster than the eye could follow —
a human lightning bolt.

When he hit the first direhound,
It sounded like a thunderclap.

The creature’s body went limp mid-air,
thrown back fifteen feet by the force of the punch.

Another hound snapped at his leg —
Marsden kicked off the ground, launching skyward,
a blast of lightning firing from his new electric boots.

He moved like he had been born in this world.
Untouchable.
Uncatchable.

Dean floated above the battlefield — wind swirling at his back.

Two shimmering silver wings stretched from his shoulders —
not physical wings, but constructs of wind and magic,
giving him total freedom of the air.

A bow made of spinning air particles snapped into existence in his hands.

Without a word, Dean fired a razor-thin wind arrow —
slicing clean through a direhound’s spine.

Another arrow. Another kill.

He wasn’t fighting.
He was executing.

Ray stayed at the center.

Slowing time when his brothers made mistakes.
Healing wounds by reversing the moment they happened.

He was the eye of the storm —
invisible to the enemy, vital to survival.

The fight ended fast.

Six monsters dead.
No casualties.

The four brothers stood there, panting, blood spattered across their skin, steam rising from Marsden’s gauntlets.

They were stronger than Ray had realized.

Maybe stronger than they realized too.

As they were laughing, catching their breath, they found it.

A body.

A player, maybe sixteen, lying twisted under the bushes —
armor torn open. His body had chunks of flesh ripped out by the hounds they had just killed.
Blood soaked into the dirt.

No respawn.
No menu.
No second chance.

Just a dead boy
in a field that no longer cared.

“So this is what Sparks meant when he said ‘There is no way out’.” Marsden said as his eyes couldn’t leave the boy's corpse.

The laughter died in their throats.

Marsden tried to make a joke —
but the words wouldn’t come.

Ray crouched down.
Closed the boy’s eyes with trembling fingers.

"Let's move," he said.

No one argued.

That night, at a small campfire on the edge of the open field, the brothers sat in silence.

Other fires dotted the hills —
small islands of life against the vast, uncaring dark.

In the distance, they heard laughter.
Singing.
Victory shouts.

Fools.
Or maybe just players trying not to cry.

Ray stared into the flames.

This world was beautiful.

Elysium stretches endlessly, a vibrant realm born from pixels and dreams, a canvas for ambition and conflict.

To the north lies an unforgiving desert, dunes shimmering beneath relentless suns, sands whispering secrets to those daring enough to traverse them.

Eastward, an eternal winter reigns, a tundra of ice and snow where frost cuts deeper than blades.

The southern lands rise gently into grassy highlands, sweeping expanses filled with soft winds and whispering grasses, deceptively peaceful yet ripe for adventure.

The west sprawls into what seems an endless forest, dense and mysterious, eventually surrendering to expansive flatlands beneath open skies, inviting exploration and settlement.

At the heart of it all stands Gem City—a sprawling medieval town of weathered stone, immense yet strangely quiet, its narrow streets echoing softly with the absence of NPCs.

Four grand gates mark each cardinal direction, portals welcoming adventurers from every corner of Elysium. The city's countless empty shops await artisans and builders, an open invitation for those who find purpose in creation rather than combat.

Here, players alone breathe life into the silent stones, shaping the world through their own dreams, rivalries, and alliances. Gem City is the nexus, a beacon promising community and conflict, a place where countless destinies intertwine, and new lives begin.

But it was already demanding payment.

And soon, it would demand more.

He glanced at the others —
Trey sharpening his sword,
Marsden poking the fire with a stick,
Dean half-asleep, wings folded tight against his back.

Family.
Battered in the real world, but here… together and strong.

Ray looked up at the night sky.

A thousand stars.
A thousand possible graves.