CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: The Breather
Sector Transition – Immediately After the Revolving Lab
They expected another chamber. Another voice. Another countdown.
Instead, they found a hallway with no screens and no glowing warnings.
Just silence. Then:
> "TRIAL COMPLETE. NEXT SEQUENCE LOADING… INTERMISSION GRANTED. REST SECTOR UNLOCKED."
A door opened.
Behind it, warmth. Fluorescent lighting. Carpeted floors.
Beds.
---
The Resting Sector
The room was spacious—clinical in design, but softer than anywhere they'd been. Padded benches. Hydration dispensers. Fold-down beds. A corner shelf filled with ration packs and protein bars.
But that wasn't what stopped them in their tracks.
It was the others.
Seven people already in the room.
Some sitting. Some sleeping. All marked by the game's bracelet.
Other players.
---
Initial Contact
A young woman with dark braids and a steely look was the first to speak.
"You just came from the 10 of Diamonds?"
Noah nodded. "PARTITION PROTOCOL"
She exhaled. "That one's new. Last time I was here, only up to 8 had shown."
Eliah stepped forward. "How long have you all been here?"
"Two hours," said a man in a gray jacket. "Rest sectors open every few trials. You stay as long as the system allows. Then the door closes, and someone else dies."
His words were casual.
Like someone who'd had time to get used to them.
---
Dynamics in the Room
There were others: a girl who refused to speak. A man who twitched every few seconds. One group of two who didn't leave each other's side—siblings, maybe. Or trauma-bonded.
Dylan took a ration bar and sat against the far wall. "Feels like a zoo pen before the next show."
Tayo opened a dispenser. "Actual water. Cold."
Reina crouched beside one of the sleeping players. "Some of them look… broken."
"They are," said the woman with braids. "This game doesn't test strength. It measures what's left when you run out of it."
---
Information Exchange
The man in gray introduced himself. "Marik. I've seen five trials. Two Hearts. One Spade. Two Diamonds."
Noah leaned forward. "Hearts?"
Marik nodded. "Psychological. Emotions. Spades are physical. Diamonds? Logic, mostly. The suits mean something."
"The numbers, too," the braided woman added. "They go up. Harder each time. We think there are thirteen levels. Maybe more."
"And Clubs?" Reina asked.
Everyone in the room went quiet.
Marik said, "No one who played a Club has made it back here."
---
Tension and Warnings
As they rested, Reina noticed something.
None of the other players were talking strategy. No one was planning next moves. It wasn't camaraderie. It was detachment. A survival instinct.
Marik confirmed it. "Don't get attached. People disappear in the next game. Sometimes they never even scream."
Dylan broke the silence. "Do you all just wait to be told where to die next?"
The girl who hadn't spoken all night finally looked up.
Her voice was hoarse. "We wait… because the only alternative is to run. And the rooms don't let you run far."
---
The Intermission Ends
The wall screen flashed without warning.
> "REST SECTOR ENDING. NEXT TRIAL ASSIGNMENT INITIATING."
Beds retracted. Lights dimmed.
Doors began to open.
Noah stood. The others followed.
Behind them, two players stayed seated. Refusing to move.
"Come on," Reina said softly.
Marik shook his head. "They've made their choice."
Before the doors sealed, Reina glanced back.
One of them was crying.
The other just stared straight ahead.
---
Transition Corridor – En Route to Next Game
They walked down a new hall. Narrower. Colder.
"Why do you think they let us rest?" Eliah asked.
"Because fatigue makes mistakes easier," Noah said.
Dylan smirked. "And people who bond are more likely to break."
Reina whispered, "Or maybe the rest is part of the game."