The moment Ian opened his eyes, the silence hit him.
Not a single hum of electricity. No neon lights. No vibrating phone in his pocket. Just wind, dry and hollow, brushing across a world that felt... abandoned.
["Attempt 4 initiated."] ["Memory Fragments Acquired: 7/99."]
Ian sat up slowly. He was lying on cracked stone, surrounded by a vast city stripped of technology. No cars. No screens. Just towering ruins and stone-paved roads, as if civilization had rewound itself centuries.
He looked around. The sky was a murky gray, the sun hidden behind thick clouds. Somewhere in the distance, bells chimed—real, metal bells—not digital echoes.
His fingers instinctively reached into his coat. No phone.
The system was silent.
But not gone.
He stood, dusting himself off, and took his first step into this new world.
* * *
People walked in hushed tones, clothed in simple garments—linen, wool, leather. They moved with purpose but not haste. No one acknowledged him, but they didn't avoid him either.
He passed a street market. Vegetables, bread, fabric. A woman sharpened a blade beside a wooden stall. Children played with sticks and stones. No music. No machines.
Everything was real. Tangible.
And yet… wrong.
He saw it in the way people glanced at the sky, flinched at their reflections in puddles, and spoke in fragmented phrases, as if fearing being overheard.
He approached a young man fixing a broken wheel.
"Where am I?" Ian asked.
The man looked up with suspicion. "You should not ask questions that draw the spiral's eye."
Ian blinked. "What spiral?"
The man dropped the wrench and stood.
"Go. Now."
A bell rang again—closer this time.
["System Interference: Low."] ["Observation Level: Passive."]
Ian turned and left the alley.
* * *
He wandered until he reached the center of the city—a massive circular plaza with a spiral engraved into the stone floor.
At its center stood a tower. Black, windowless, ancient.
Something drew him to it.
He approached slowly, steps echoing.
A figure waited at the base.
Marcus.
But this version wore a monk's robe. His eyes were calm, distant.
"You've come too soon", Marcus said without turning.
Ian stopped. "Do you remember me?"
"Not in the way you mean."
"I need answers."
Marcus turned. "Then enter the Spiral Temple. But once inside, you cannot ask questions. You can only endure."
["New Directive: Survive the Spiral."]
* * *
Inside the tower, the temperature dropped.
The air was thick. The silence suffocating.
Symbols lined the walls—spirals, eyes, hands.
Every step Ian took echoed as if repeated by invisible footsteps behind him.
["Reality distortion: Mild."]
A door appeared.
He opened it.
Darkness.
He stepped through.
* * *
The room pulsed.
Not physically—but in his mind. Like something was thinking, breathing.
In the center: a chair.
He approached cautiously.
When he sat, metal cuffs clamped around his wrists and ankles.
["Initiating memory injection..."]
Pain flared behind his eyes.
* * *
He stood in a burning village.
Smoke. Screams.
People running. Faces he didn't recognize—but somehow cared about.
A girl cried his name.
Not Ian.
"Elios!"
He turned.
Lena?
No. Not her face.
But her voice.
He ran to her.
Flames rose. She reached for him.
He grabbed her hand—
—and the world shattered.
* * *
He was back in the chair, gasping.
The room spun.
["Memory Fragment Acquired: 8/99."] ["Warning: Identity Integrity at 91%."]
The cuffs released. The door reopened.
He stumbled out.
Marcus stood waiting.
"You saw it", he said.
"I was someone else."
"You were a part of yourself. One of many."
Ian rubbed his temples. "What was that?"
"A fracture. A truth buried beneath pain."
"I don't understand."