Author Romeru
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[ADAM] Chapter 24: 4,383,410
🕑 Added 2025-04-03 02:40:29 +0000 UTC“We lost.”
Adam didn’t respond.
He heard Grace's words—they were so clear, almost to the point that it rang through his ears and pierced through his skull. But even then, he didn't understand them.
He refused to.
His breath turned heavier, uneven. His fingers started to twitch, wanting to reach for something—anything—to distract him. His eyes moved everywhere, searching, desperate.
And then, he saw it. The steel pipe resting beside Grace.
He quickly let go of Grace's hand and grabbed the pipe instead. He squeezed it so tight that he stretched the skin of his palm, almost.
“Where… where is it? Where’s the crystal?” His voice trembled, the words coming straight from his throat.
“Where’s—”
Before he could finish his words, Grace pulled him down.
Her arms wrapped around him before he could escape again, like a mother calming a child after a nightmare.
A nightmare…if only that was all this was.
Adam's entire body froze, his lungs holding his breath and his mind screaming at him to keep moving—but before he could pull away, another pair of tiny arms held him down.
Little Samantha.
She clung to him and Grace, burying her face between them
“It’s over,” Grace whispered. “It’s over… Adam.”
Adam was still holding his breath. His wild eyes that were darting everywhere finally settled on the others.
His fellow Red creeps.
No—not anymore.
The Halos that once hovered above their heads were gone.
Even his.
He reached up, fingers brushing through the empty air above his own head, his chest rising and falling with shallow, panicked breaths.
He felt his chest start to tighten.
He felt… well, he didn’t know what he felt.
There was a hollow ache. A twisting in his gut. Suffocating.
And slowly, his grip on the pipe loosened.
And then, as it made a soft sound as it hit the ground, Adam felt something inside him snap.
His body, his everything, gave in.
He collapsed into Grace’s embrace, his arms wrapping tightly around her and Samantha without thought, without reason—only instinct.
And before he even realized it—before he could stop himself—
His lungs could no longer hold his breath, and it burst out. They burst out with a cry so loud.
His tears poured from his eyes, soaking into Grace’s shoulder.
He didn’t just cry.
He wailed.
Raw, broken, loud—like a child who had lost everything.
His shoulders trembled, his breaths ragged, his fingers softly gripping onto them like Grace and Samantha were the only things keeping him from falling apart.
And…perhaps they were. They are.
“I’m so… I’m so sorry.” His voice cracked, shaking as he clenched his jaw. “I failed… I failed to protect you. I failed to save you both. I promised…I promised and I…”
Grace didn’t let go.
She only smiled, pressing her cheek against his head as she ran her fingers through his hair.
“You did.” She whispered. “You did protect us. You did save us, Adam.”
“No… no, I didn’t.” Adam’s throat burned, but the words still fought their way out. “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry.”
Samantha also whimpered.
Her small cries finally sounded like those of a child. A real child—fragile, afraid. She was finally allowed to be a child again. A baby.
Grace only held them both tighter.
“Shhh…” She rocked Samantha gently, her touch and breath warm. “We tried our best. That’s… that’s what matters.”
She wanted to cry.
But she didn’t.
Instead, she whispered, her fingers still stroking Adam’s hair, “And what did I say about apologizing? No more, right?”
Adam’s entire body surrendered again.
He whimpered against her shoulder, his tears soaking into her skin—until he had no more left to cry.
Minutes passed. Maybe more.
Finally, his breath steadied. His grip loosened.
He pulled back slightly, eyes red, swollen, exhausted. Grace gave him a small smile and reached up, gently wiping the tears from his face.
Adam blinked, his vision blurry, but he gently held Grace's hand and looked into her eyes.
“…Why are we still alive?” His voice was hoarse.
Grace hesitated. Then, slowly, she looked up.
Adam followed her gaze.
The giant clock was still there.
Hanging above them—but now moving backwards.
Thirty minutes, and counting down.
Ticking down.
Grace exhaled, then turned to Adam with a soft shrug, a small, tired smile tugging at her lips.
Samantha followed their gaze—and then, suddenly, once again buried herself deeper into her mother’s arms.
“I’m scared… so scared, Mommy. I’m so scared.”
Her tiny voice wavered, whimpered.
Grace’s arms tightened around her. “Shh… shhh.”
She pressed her lips together, biting hard to keep her voice steady. Then, as she looked at Adam—her eyes turned completely red, but she refused to give in.
Instead, she gently stroked Samantha’s hair.
“It’s okay, sweetie. You can go to sleep.”
Samantha sniffled, gripping onto her mother’s sleeve.
Grace swallowed, forcing her voice to stay calm, steady, certain.
“Nothing’s going to happen. And when you wake up…”
Her lips trembled at the lie.
“…We’ll be at the beach, okay? We’ll be at the beach, having fun.”
Samantha blinked up at her.
Then, slowly, she closed her eyes.
“With… with Mister?” She murmured sleepily.
Grace opened her mouth—but she couldn’t speak.
She knew if she tried, her voice would break. She looked at Adam again, pleading with him.
And so, before the silence could stretch too long, he reached out, taking Grace’s hand in his own.
Then, with his other hand, he also gently brushed Samantha’s hair.
His fingers trembled. But still, he whispered—
“Yes. I’ll… be there.”
Samantha let out a small, soft breath.
“O…okay.”
Her tiny body relaxed, her fingers loosening their grip.
“…I like Mister and Mommy.”
And with that, she drifted off to sleep.
They made sure to be quiet after that, letting the clock above them tick down. The seconds felt like hours, and each tick echoed in the empty stadium.
Adam watched the numbers decrease. All the loss, the pain, it crushed down on him—and all he could do was let it. But he wasn't alone.
At least he wasn't alone in carrying it all.
"Adam…" Grace shifted slightly, careful not to wake Samantha as she whispered to him.
Adam looked at her, but she didn't say anything after that. She only looked at her daughter, caressing her cheek. But as a deep, whistling breath escaped Samantha's lips, Grace reached behind her back and pulled something out.
A knife.
The blade immediately caught the reflection of Adam's confusion.
He stared at the weapon, not knowing what it was doing there.
But then, Grace offered him the knife.
And he understood.
He felt the weight in Grace's eyes as they moved to Samantha's sleeping face.
And he understood.
It took everything in him not to tremble. The world seemed to collapse around him, and all he could hear was his heart pounding. So hard it might burst from his chest.
This couldn't be happening. This couldn't be what she was asking.
"Can you do it?" Grace asked, her voice breaking despite her efforts to keep it steady. "While she's asleep? Painless… peaceful. I want to…"
She covered her mouth as her voice cracked, "I want to… I want to remember her like this. My… my baby girl."
Adam's tears started to fall again as he stared at her. A scream built in his throat, raw and primal, but before it could escape, Grace's hand shot out, also covering his mouth. Her eyes were desperate, her head shaking. Pleading.
She looked down at Samantha and whispered so very quietly,
"I love you, sweetie. Mommy... mommy loves you very much."
Grace turned back to Adam, her eyes begging him. The knife trembled between them.
Adam closed his eyes, his teeth grinding together so hard they shattered. When he opened them again, he turned to look at Samantha and gently touched her cheek—and then, with a breath, he grabbed the knife from Grace.
And with a silent cry, he swiftly plunged the knife into the back of Samantha's neck, where the spine met the brainstem. A single thrust. No hesitation. No suffering.
The knife slipped through, slicing deep in an instant. Samantha didn't even flinch—her sleep undisturbed as life… as life quietly began to leave her.
Her chest rose and fell, with each breath growing softer than the last.
Until… there was only a soft gasp—a tiny whisper escaping her lips.
And then, nothing.
Samantha would never wake up again.
"My baby…" Grace whispered, cradling her daughter as she had done countless times before. She felt so light in her arms now, so light.
And finally, Grace allowed herself to break. The dam holding her tears shattered completely, and a cry erupted along with it—not raw, not primal—but the most painful one.
The cry of a mother losing her child. Grief that seemed to shake the very foundations of life itself.
"My… my baby girl…" Her body convulsed with each sob, her fingers clutching Samantha's cheeks, refusing to let their warmth slip away.
"I love you, sweetie," she whispered between ragged breaths, rocking back and forth. "I love you... I'll be there soon, mommy will be there soon. I promise."
Adam watched, the knife still gripped in his trembling hand. Blood—Samantha's blood—dripped from the blade onto the ground.
He looked at his reflection on it, and he saw his eyes begging for everything to just stop. He then looked beyond the knife, at Grace, and raised the knife again. His face, losing any hope they ever had.
Grace looked up through her tears and saw him.
And she reached out, her fingers wrapping around his shaking wrist, and gently lowered the knife.
"No," she whispered, shaking her head slowly. "I... won't let you be alone, Adam."
The knife immediately clattered to the ground, and Adam's hands along with it. He dropped his head, and another sob tore from his throat.
Grace once again reached out to him, her fingers gentle as they lifted his chin.
And then, she smiled at him.
"Tell me... more about yourself. Please. I want to know you."
Adam stared at her, in disbelief at first. But he took her hand in his, planting her warmth deeper into his cheek.
And then, for the first time in his life, Adam began to tell his story.
Grace listened without judgment, her tears falling freely as she held her daughter's body with one arm and Adam's hand with the other. When he faltered, she squeezed his fingers, urging him to continue.
She shared her own story too—and the simplicity of her life compared to Adam caused her to chuckle.
The minutes ticked away, the clock counting down their remaining time together.
"I... I wish I had met you earlier," Adam whispered, tears streaming down his face. "I want to spend more time with you. You're... you're my first friend, Grace. You and Samantha. And I'm sorry... I'm sorry I couldn't save you."
"You saved me enough," she said, her fingers gently stroking Samantha's hair. "And you showed my daughter that... that kindness exists even in the darkest of times. And for that, thank you. Thank you, Adam. And I... I also would have wanted to spend more time with you. And… Oh... oh god..."
Her words dissolved into a gasp as she felt a strange sensation on her cheek—a crackling, like paper beginning to burn. She glanced up at the clock: sixty seconds remaining.
"I'm scared, Adam." She quickly looked down, focusing only on Adam's eyes.
And as she saw him meet her gaze, her trembling slowly softened. For a moment, he became the anchor that kept her from slipping away.
"Thank you, Adam," she whispered.
"Thank you, Grace," he echoed.
Grace's eyes remained on Adam, the fight in them igniting before everything else, "Can you promise me four things, Adam?"
"What is it?"
"If... if you're still alive after this—after all of this—I want you to make the Administrators pay."
"I'll do that."
"And then make the Hospital pay for what they did to you."
"Okay."
"And I want you to meet someone special. Because you deserve to love, and be loved."
"I…I'll try."
"And lastly, please... can you smile for me?" Grace cupped his cheek, her touch gentle despite the crack that had begun to spread across her skin.
And then… perhaps for the first time in twenty years, Adam smiled—a small, broken thing, but genuine.
His lips trembled with the unfamiliar movement, but his eyes softened as he gave her this final gift.
And suddenly, both their faces cracked. Flames erupted from the crevices.
Grace screamed in agony—a sound that pained Adam even more than the fire burning him from the inside out.
Without hesitation, he grabbed the knife from the ground and plunged it into her, sparing her from the torture of burning alive.
He stared at the blade for a moment, contemplating using it on himself, but instead threw it aside.
Instead, he wrapped his arms around Grace and Samantha, pulling their bodies close as the flames consumed them all.
Adam looked up at the clock, at the Dome as it withered and faded away.
He gritted his teeth and released a roar that contained all his rage, all his sorrow, all his regret—but not his pain. He welcomed it.
"Why? WHHYYY!?" His cry stretched out, for as long as his lungs could break them. But like everything, it turned into a whisper, "Why...?"
And very soon, the weight in his arms turned lighter.
Grace and Samantha slowly crumbled in his embrace, their bodies turning to ash that slipped through his fingers like black snow.
Adam slightly panicked, hugging the remains and refusing to let go. Afraid they would scatter away.
The flames continued to burn him, and yet he only cared for the memory of Grace and Samantha's warmth.
Minutes passed.
But finally, he stood, his flesh charred black, his eyes melting in their sockets. He raised his face toward where the ceiling of the Dome had been… and a single tear, somehow surviving the inferno of his face, traced a path down his ruined cheek.
And then his legs gave way, crumbling to dust as he collapsed among the ashes.
Leaving nothing but silence.
[The 242nd Battle has concluded! Congratulations to the survivors—celebrate your triumph!]
And with those words echoing across the entire world, the 242nd Game was over. Total number of deaths: 4,383,411.
No.
4,383,410.
***
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AUTHOR NOTES
First half of the first book is done. I hope you guys liked it!
Comments
IdolTrust
Well that sucks for the world because they unleashed the beast. I can totally see that his title would be either “Last Stand” or “Survivor”
