Morning time
The morning air was heavy with an eerie stillness, broken only by the relentless vibration of mobile phones. One by one, the students emerged from their tents, confusion and unease etched across their faces. Every phone continued to buzz ceaselessly, the sound grating on their nerves. Some, overwhelmed by frustration, tried to silence the devices by smashing them against the ground, but the vibrations refused to stop.
Then, after a few agonizing minutes, a message appeared on their screens.
The Trident Game begins now.
A murmur rippled through the group. Sky, one of the students, narrowed his eyes at the message and muttered, "If the game didn't start last night, then what really happened to those students?"
The question hung in the air, heavy with implication. The first victim Jennie had been found lifeless by the pond. Was it an accident, or was there something far more sinister at play?
"If this place is a restricted zone," another student whispered, "then how could he have ended up dead there?"
Silence followed until Sky spoke again. "If anyone knows something about what happened last night, now's the time to speak."
No one answered.
Another message arrived, spelling out the rules of the game. The students read in hushed horror—there were no rules. The only restriction was that no one could leave until the game was completed.
Lumen, his voice barely steady, read the final line aloud:
"The first game is built on trust. Among you is a liar—someone who deceives and has already killed once."
A cold shiver ran through the group. One of them was a murderer.
And the game had only just begun.
The game is already in motion. A silent dance of deception, where every step is a clue and every word a potential lie. Among those who stand before you, one is guilty. But the truth is not easily unraveled.
Each suspect carries a different mission, a purpose that sets them apart. Their paths do not cross by mere coincidence—fate has tangled them together in a web of intrigue. The clues you hold are like whispers in the dark, leading you through a maze where shadows shift and reality bends.
Some wear their innocence like a mask, others let their guilt slip through the cracks. But one among them hides the deepest secret, the final piece to this deadly puzzle.
Lery called it a game of trust—a challenge where they had to rely on one another, piece together the scattered clues, and unmask the true culprit to claim victory.
Born into wealth, Lery never let privilege shape his character. He was kind-hearted, always extending a helping hand to his classmates, though he preferred to do so from the shadows. Few knew the truth about his silent generosity, but those who did recognized the depth of his goodness.
The first clue arrived in an aged envelope, its edges worn and ink slightly smudged. The candidates gathered around, eyes flickering with curiosity and determination. They had exactly six hours to unravel the mystery.
As the paper unfolded, whispers spread like wildfire. Some read in silence, others exchanged urgent glances. And then—movement. A few students, catching on faster than the rest, bolted without a word. Their footsteps pounded against the forest floor, vanishing into the thick jungle beyond.
Leaves rustled, branches snapped under hurried steps. The deeper they ran, the more the air changed—charged with something electric, something unknown. The jungle swallowed them whole, its shadows twisting, its whispers growing louder.
Some students sat in thoughtful silence, their minds carefully turning over the discussion at hand. Around the tents , five small groups had formed, each consisting of three to four members. Some spoke in hushed tones, exchanging ideas, while others listened intently, lost in contemplation.