Luca Bellandi awoke under the golden Tuscan sun, cicadas buzzing in the vines, a half-finished bottle of Chianti resting beside his hand. For a moment, he believed the nightmare was over—that the taste of blood and betrayal had been just a wine-fueled dream. But the sharp memory of a blade through his ribs, the heat of betrayal from someone he once protected, and the thunderous cheers of international spectators shattered the illusion.

  He sat up slowly. His fingers curled around the stem of a wineglass, still stained with crimson. Not wine—his blood. The final memory before death.

  Then came the realization: this was thirty days before the selection for The Hundred—a brutal, once-a-decade bloodsport initiated after the ashes of World War III. In the aftermath of global devastation, the surviving major powers—the G20—formed a unified accord. To prevent future conflict, they would settle global dominance through a game. Five elite champions per country, one battlefield. One winner. The nation of the last surviving team would lead the world for the next two years.

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  This would be the fifth edition.

  The last time, Luca had fought with honor, built alliances, and trusted. In the end, it cost him everything. He remembered the smug smile of the German champion as he bled out, and the moment his so-called Italian comrade stepped over his body without a second glance. Never again.

  This time, he wouldn’t make the same mistake.

  He would be Italy’s representative again—but not its hero. No. He would be its knife in the dark, smiling in the sun and stabbing in the shadows. He didn’t care about Italy's pride or the world’s future. He cared about one thing only: survival.

  He looked to the horizon, vineyard rows like military ranks. "I will win," he whispered, eyes cold. "And I will lie, steal, and kill to do it."