The laptop crashed. And somewhere deep in the dark web, a counter reset from 9 to 10.
He slammed enter.
The screen split into nine grainy CCTV feeds. Each showed a dimly lit room. In each room, a person sat before a computer—exactly like him. In the corner of each feed, a counter ticked down from 30 seconds.
The site loaded, but instead of the usual clutter of pop-ups and malware warnings, a single line of text appeared in the center of a pitch-black page:
Rohan smirked. “Clickbait,” he muttered, but clicked anyway.
He opened it.
He tried to close the tab. Nothing. Ctrl+Alt+Del? Frozen.
“These are the other nine finalists,” the voice said. “One of you will win. The rest… will become part of our server farm.”
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