I clutch my head, fingers digging into my scalp as if I could hold my thoughts in place. A sharp pressure coils behind my eyes, pulsing with every heartbeat, threatening to split my mind apart. The room—or whatever this place is—feels too bright, too jagged, every edge of light stabbing at my vision.
The 'System' materializes in fractured flashes, blue light cutting through the air. Thin strands of circuitry weave among cryptic runes, pulsing and flaring like a heartbeat struggling to stabilize. Each flicker sends a spike of pressure through my skull, as if the System itself reacts to my thoughts before I can even process them. The light twists coldly, forcing my eyes to dart and adjust as the ache intensifies.
Shallow gasps catch in my throat, my body failing to keep pace with the chaos. The flashes come faster, a storm of blue clawing at my mind, runes pulsing in sync with my heartbeat.
«ZIN! ARE YOU OKAY?»
The message cuts through the haze. My pulse quickens at the strange tug in my chest, surprise and urgency pressing against my thoughts.
Blue rectangular messages flicker into view, hovering independently. Their edges glow sharply, tiny arcs crawling along their borders. The letters are bold, precise, repeating the same urgent question, trying to pierce the fog in my mind.
I reach out instinctively; my fingers pass through the glowing edges like mist. The rectangles hover, unyielding, pulsing with my frantic heartbeat. Cold pressure builds behind my eyes, the blue thrum intensifying the ache.
My vision blurs as sharp pains stab through my temples. I squeeze my eyes shut, pressing my palms to my head, trying desperately to block it out.
After a minute of tense silence, the intensity finally eases just enough for me to open my eyes slowly. What greets me, however, is far from familiar. I find myself seated in a dense, ancient forest, the towering trees surrounding me thick and gnarled, their branches twisting together to form a nearly impenetrable canopy that blocks most of the sunlight. Faint shafts of light manage to pierce through in irregular streaks, falling onto the forest floor in dim, shifting patterns.
Above, the sky is cloaked in dark, swirling clouds, heavy and restless, as though a storm might descend at any moment. A chill wind snakes its way through the twisted branches, carrying the damp scent of moss and earth, brushing against my skin and making me shiver involuntarily. The forest feels alive in its stillness, the weight of the trees pressing down on me, a quiet reminder that I am somewhere far removed from anything I recognize.
"Ugh, it's so cold… Where the hell am I?"
"System? Hey System, where are you?"
I scan my surroundings, confusion clouding my mind. Every tree looms like a silent sentinel, its twisted branches tangled overhead, casting uneven shadows across the forest floor. My eyes dart nervously from trunk to trunk, following the subtle movements in the underbrush, searching for anything familiar—or anything alive.
Instinctively, my hand reaches down to touch the rough grass underfoot. Each blade is cool and damp against my fingertips, tiny dewdrops catching what little light filters through the thick canopy and sparkling faintly. I pause, brushing my hand back and forth, but the sensation feels… wrong. Half of me registers it as solid, real; the other half hesitates, unsure if the contact is entirely trustworthy. The texture is subtly off, too uniform, almost synthetic in its resistance, as if reality itself has been stretched thin over this patch of earth.
A faint shiver runs up my arm as I lift my hand, staring at the grass as if examining it for clues. The forest around me is silent except for the whisper of the wind through the twisted branches, yet the unnatural feel of the ground beneath me sets my nerves on edge. It's a subtle, gnawing sense that something is… off. That even the most ordinary part of this place—the ground beneath my feet—is not fully what it appears to be.
I take a tentative step forward, testing my balance and the stability of the earth beneath me. The forest seems to shift subtly with each movement, shadows deepening in response to my presence, as if leaves trembled with anticipation. My pulse quickens, a low hum of unease crawling through me. This place is alive in some strange way—observant, patient, and waiting.
What the?
Frowning, I push myself upright, every muscle stiff and protesting as I rise. My eyes sweep across the dense, tangled forest around me, taking in the twisted trunks, thick underbrush, and gnarled roots snaking across the ground. Shadows pool in uneven patches, stretching unnaturally beneath the faint light filtering through the thick canopy. The air feels heavy, damp, and charged with an unexplainable tension, pressing against me from all sides.
I take a cautious step forward, boots crunching softly against the damp leaves and scattered twigs. Each movement feels deliberate, slow, as though the forest itself is testing my presence, watching, waiting. The strange, almost synthetic texture of the grass under my hands lingers in my mind, and a low shiver snakes down my spine.
Then, without warning, a colossal light bursts into being behind me. Its brilliance is blinding, a sharp, intense glow that forces me to instinctively shield my eyes. The light spreads rapidly, illuminating the forest in stark, shifting contrasts. Shadows stretch forward, unnaturally long and jagged, bending across the undergrowth like dark fingers reaching out from the ground. The sheer size of it is overwhelming—the glow throws a massive shadow ahead of me, a monolithic shape that swallows everything in its path, cutting off what little weak daylight manages to filter through the thick canopy.
The suddenness of it makes my pulse spike. I freeze, staring over my shoulder as the forest feels transformed, almost alien under the oppressive radiance. The light flickers, brightening and dimming, as though it resists being contained, and a subtle hum seems to vibrate through the air, rattling my senses.
Startled, I whirl around, eyes wide, as the colossal light behind me flickers and fades, only to flare up again moments later. Its glow now carries an unnatural, red-tinged hue, washing over the twisted trunks and tangled underbrush in harsh, eerie contrasts. The shadows it casts shift and writhe across the forest floor, jagged and restless, as if the darkness itself is alive.
I glance upward, and my stomach tightens. The sky above is no longer the dull gray of storm clouds—it has begun to bleed crimson, the color spreading unevenly across the clouds like spilled blood, deepening as it seeps outward. Even the moon has changed, taking on a sickly, copper-red glow that casts a faint, otherworldly light over the forest. Every branch, every twisted root, every shadowed nook feels sharper, more menacing, as the red hue amplifies the sense of alien danger pressing down around me.
I take a hesitant step toward the luminous sight, but my legs feel impossibly heavy, as if weighted with lead. My heart hammers in my chest, a surge of fear gripping me so tightly that my muscles refuse to obey. Every motion feels sluggish, as though the forest itself is pushing back, holding me in place. A cold sweat prickles along my spine, and my breath comes in short, uneven gasps.
Despite the paralyzing terror, something deep inside me refuses to turn away. I force myself forward, stepping over thick roots and pushing through a dense thicket of underbrush. Tangled vines scrape against my arms and legs, leaving faint red welts where the branches dig into my skin, but I barely notice the pain, my focus entirely on the strange, flickering light ahead.
As I draw closer, a chilling realization stops me cold for a heartbeat. Fresh blood stains the bushes and clings to the twisted bark of the trees—deep crimson streaked with dark purple, the colors blending in unnatural, almost ritualistic patterns. The metallic scent of iron hangs heavy in the air, sharp and cloying, making my stomach twist. My pulse quickens, nausea rising as shock and dread settle in like a lead weight. Something terrible has happened here, and the forest around the light feels charged with a silent, malevolent energy that makes my skin crawl.
What the—blood? Purple?
My pulse spikes, hammering painfully against my chest, and a cold, creeping fear coils in my stomach. Who—or what—could have left these streaks? My eyes flick nervously between the trees and the thick underbrush, searching for any hint of movement, any sign of life—or death—that could explain the unnatural colors. The deep crimson and dark purple stains cling to branches, leaves, and the forest floor, smeared like some deliberate, ritualistic pattern. The air is heavy with the sharp, metallic scent of blood, mingling with the earthy dampness of moss and soil, making me swallow hard.
I take another cautious step forward, muscles tensing with each movement. The forest feels suffocating, as if it's pressing in from all sides, thick and watchful. I force myself toward the spot where the strange light had flared, trying to steady my racing heartbeat.
As I draw near, the scene before me unfolds in all its chaotic horror. Humans clash desperately against monstrous foes: Orcs with jagged, brutal weapons, Goblins darting unpredictably with wicked claws, and Skeletons that rattle and move with unnerving, unnatural precision. The forest is alive with the sounds of battle—steel biting bone, anguished shouts, guttural roars, and the eerie clatter of skeletal limbs echoing through the dense trees.
Blood flies through the air with every strike, thick and dark, coating trunks, leaves, and the underbrush. The fighters move with a grim determination, their motions fluid yet savage, their eyes wild with desperation or fury. Bodies fall, rise, and clash again, the scene an endless, brutal cycle of attack and counterattack.
I take a shaky breath, my stomach tightening as nausea rises. My legs feel like lead, yet some inexplicable force drives me forward. I can't tear my gaze away; the forest, the chaos, the crimson and purple stains—they all press on me with an almost palpable weight. Every clash, every scream, every monstrous snarl feels like it's written into the very air around me, and I am trapped in the middle of it.
"Wait, wha—"
Suddenly, I tumble to the ground, slick with blood, my stomach twisting at the sight of the skeletal figure standing nearby. Its hollow eye sockets stare past me, unseeing, unbothered, yet somehow menacing in their emptiness. My legs feel rooted to the spot, powerless to escape, as a surge of tension grips my chest.
Then, suddenly, a blinding light erupts from just in front of Alice. My eyes widen as I see the source: a perfectly formed magic circle, hovering in midair mere inches from her raised palm. She holds her arm straight out, fingers splayed in a precise, controlled pose, the circle spinning slowly and shimmering with golden-white runes. Its intricate patterns—interlocking sigils and arcane symbols—glow brighter as the energy condenses, forming a conduit between her hand and the skeletal figure.
A sharp, crackling hum fills the air, vibrating through my bones. Sparks of light spiral along the edges of the floating circle, twisting and coiling as if alive, and a beam of pure radiance shoots forward, colliding with the skeleton. The bones tremble violently under the force, glowing briefly in the circle's energy, before collapsing into a harmless heap of ordinary bones. The light flares once more, then dims, as if the magic had consumed everything it touched.
I scramble backward, heart hammering, eyes fixed on Alice. She stands calm amid the chaos, her golden eyes ablaze, the glow from the circle casting sharp shadows across her determined features. Every subtle movement—every tilt of her wrist, every flex of her fingers—guides the circle, shaping its energy with precision. The forest around her reacts: shadows stretch back, leaves quiver, and the air feels charged, thick with the residual hum of her magic.
Even from my vantage point, I can see the force in her pose. It's as if she's blasting the very essence of the chaos before her, her hand a conduit, the magic circle the weapon. The light radiates outward in controlled intensity, illuminating the bloodstained forest, highlighting every twisted root and broken branch in stark relief.
A cold shiver runs down my spine, a mixture of awe and fear. The skeletal figure—so menacing moments ago—now nothing more than scattered bones at her feet. And all of it, every ounce of that power, is channeled from the simple, yet impossibly intricate, circle hovering in front of her hand.
ALICE?!"
I shout, my voice cracking through the chaos around us. But she doesn't flinch. She remains perfectly still, frozen as if caught in some strange trance, her golden eyes fixed on nothing, her hand still raised with the faint glow of the magic circle lingering in front of her palm.
My heart hammers in my chest as I struggle to my feet, legs trembling from fear and adrenaline. I take cautious steps toward her, the forest floor crunching softly beneath me. Each movement feels deliberate, careful, as if even the slightest misstep could break something fragile in this suspended moment. I wave my hands in front of her, hoping to snap her out of it, my voice tight with urgency.
"Hey, Alice."
Still nothing. Her gaze doesn't shift. Her lips remain parted slightly, but no sound escapes. The strange glow from the circle in front of her hand seems to pulse faintly, almost in rhythm with my racing heartbeat, as though mocking my helplessness.
Her gaze finally shifts, sweeping across the battlefield with a measured calm. She looks at the other adventurers—battle-worn fighters, their armor dented and scratched, streaked with mud and blood, faces streaked with grime and sweat. Many stand victorious over the defeated monsters, chests heaving as they catch their breath, weapons still slick with gore. Some exchange tense nods or brief words of relief, while others remain silent, surveying the chaos that surrounds them.
Alice slowly lowers her glowing hand, the magic circle above it dissolving in a shimmer of fading light. The golden radiance disappears, leaving her palm empty, her eyes returning to their natural hue, calm and steady, the unnatural glow gone. The air seems to relax around her, the oppressive tension of her power dissipating as though the forest itself exhales.
"I think we're done here. Let's head back."
She says, her voice surprisingly soft yet carrying a quiet authority that makes those around her pause.
She gestures lightly, a subtle sweep of her hand signaling the others to follow. Some adventurers obey immediately, beginning to step away from the carnage, weapons slung loosely at their sides. A few glance back at the remains of the battle, wary and tired, while others exchange brief acknowledgments with her, their respect clear in the nods and murmurs that pass between them.
From my vantage point, I can see that this was no small skirmish—it was a large-scale monster raid. Fighters from numerous guilds are scattered across the forest floor, many still assessing damage or tending to the wounded. The guild "Holy Knight" is clearly present, their insignias catching the dim light, and several freelancers can be seen moving cautiously through the trees, keeping their distance yet still part of the organized retreat.
Yet in all of this, one thing strikes me as odd—strangely, no one seems to notice me. I am unseen, a ghost lingering on the edge of their attention. I can hear their footsteps crunching softly against the leaves, smell the lingering iron of spilled blood, see the twitching of branches and the faint glimmer of weapons—but none of them glance in my direction. It's as if I don't exist in this moment, a silent observer to a world that continues without acknowledgment of my presence.
"Hey? Guys?"
I wave my arms, calling out as they walk past me. No one reacts. Boots crunch against the forest floor, voices overlap in tired chatter, but not a single glance comes my way.
"I said, hey!"
I step into their path, trying to block them, but they don't slow down. It's as if I don't exist.
I reach for Arthur's arm. My hand passes straight through him—no resistance, no reaction. He keeps walking, completely unaware.
"Hey, man?"
I turn toward Sora, calling him and moving closer. He doesn't even look my way, continuing without hesitation.
I take a step toward Alice, reaching out as if I can finally close the distance between us—when something stops me cold.
From deep within the forest, an overwhelming aura pours outward, silent yet crushing, as if the very heart of the wilderness has awakened. The moment it touches me, a chill shoots straight down my spine, sharp and instinctive, forcing my breath to hitch. My body reacts before my mind can catch up.
For an instant, it feels as though my spirit is wrenched loose, tugged violently from my chest. The sensation is brief, but terrifying—like standing on the edge of something vast and unfathomable, one misstep away from being swallowed whole. My legs stiffen, refusing to move, every nerve screaming danger.
The fear isn't mine alone.
Around me, the atmosphere shifts immediately. Conversations die mid-sentence. Faces harden, eyes widening as the same dread settles over everyone present. Adventurers instinctively reach for their weapons, steel scraping against leather as blades are drawn. Mana stirs, spells forming in tense, hurried motions. No one needs to say a word—everybody feels it.
Something is watching from within the forest.
And whatever it is, it's powerful enough to make even seasoned fighters brace themselves for battle.
My vision begins to waver, the forest smearing into indistinct shapes as a heavy pressure settles over my senses. The edges of my sight darken first, creeping inward like an encroaching tide. Sounds grow distant and hollow, as though the world is pulling away from me, retreating beyond my reach.
I try to focus on Alice, on the forest, on anything—but my thoughts slip through my grasp. The weight in my chest deepens, dragging me down, and my knees threaten to give way. Light fades in uneven pulses, flickering weakly before surrendering entirely.
At last, the darkness closes in, swallowing everything.
And I am gone.
I wake up abruptly, a sharp gasp tearing from my throat as I find myself sprawled on the cold floor of my house. My heart pounds wildly, disoriented, my thoughts tangled as I struggle to make sense of where I am. The familiar ceiling looms above me, painfully ordinary, yet my mind refuses to catch up.
A single question echoes in my head, loud and insistent, drowning out everything else.
What… just happened?
I push myself up slightly, palms pressing against the floor, half-expecting the forest, the blood, the crimson sky to still be there. But nothing has changed. The walls are the same. The air is still. Too still.
Beside me, the 'System' hovers quietly, its blue light steady and unwavering. Unlike before, it shows no signs of instability—no flickering, no distortion—just a calm, unyielding presence, as if it has been waiting for me to wake.
"Where am I—"
Before I can finish the thought, the 'System' cuts in.
«Are you okay?»
My breath catches. Relief flickers through the confusion.
"System? You finally bac—"
The words die in my throat.
A sudden, vicious pain slams into me, radiating through my head and twisting sharply down into my stomach. My body lurches forward on instinct as a wave of nausea crashes over me. I clutch at my abdomen, muscles tightening as I fight desperately to keep myself from retching.
I can't control it…
Panic crawls up my spine. I slap a hand over my mouth, shoulders trembling, breathing shallow and uneven as cold sweat beads along my skin.
«What happened?»
The question echoes close, almost too close.
"ghh… ughh…"
I try to answer, but my tongue feels heavy, my thoughts scattered and slipping away from me. The room spins, tilting at a sickening angle, and my vision swims as another wave of dizziness rolls through me. All I can do is groan softly, forcing air in and out, waiting for the nausea to loosen its grip.
Seconds stretch into minutes. The pain slowly dulls from a stabbing ache into a heavy throb, leaving me weak and drained. At last, I swallow hard, steadying myself, and manage to drag a few strained words past my lips.
"How long have I been unconscious?"
I bring a hand up to my head, wincing as the ache beneath my fingers pulses with every heartbeat. My vision is still hazy, the edges of the room blurred and wavering, making the familiar walls feel strange and distant.
"It's been five minutes.»
I nod slowly, exhaling shakily as I press my palm against the wall for support. The slight pressure steadies me, grounding my unsteady legs. Step by cautious step, I begin to move deeper into the room, each movement deliberate, testing my balance as I navigate the familiar yet oddly distorted space around me.
Inside, my hand moves on instinct, reaching down to pick up my glasses from the floor. For a brief moment, I hesitate, realizing I can already see perfectly—the edges of the room sharp, every detail painfully clear. Each line, each shadow of the furniture, every texture of the floor and wall strikes me with an almost unnatural clarity. It's as if my eyes have been stripped of every limitation overnight, or maybe even in the span of a moment.
Still, I set the glasses on the nightstand instead of putting them on. I can see. I don't need them. But the gesture feels like a habit, like some invisible tether to normalcy I'm not ready to fully release.
My eyes drift toward the window.
I freeze.
The sky outside is calm, clear, and pale, untouched by storm clouds or unnatural color. No crimson bleeding across the clouds. No oppressive red glow hanging overhead. Just an ordinary sky, bright and indifferent, as if nothing strange had ever occurred.
My chest tightens.
Wait, what?! Why does the sky not look like what I saw?
I step closer, almost instinctively, pressing my face toward the glass, scanning the horizon as if sheer focus might summon back what I know I saw. But the sky doesn't shift. The light doesn't distort. The ominous, almost tangible crimson is nowhere. Just… nothing. Normal. Too normal.
A faint chill runs down my spine, crawling along the length of my neck, settling into the hollow pit of my chest. There's a tension there, subtle yet unrelenting, a whisper that something is off, something important just slipped through my fingers. My palms press lightly against the glass, feeling the coolness through the windowpane, grounding myself—but not really. It's like touching a surface that should reassure me but somehow heightens the dissonance, reminding me that reality doesn't match memory.
Slowly, I turn back toward the room.
"Hey, System."
The words leave my mouth low and cautious, almost hesitant, as if speaking aloud might disrupt the fragile stability of the moment.
Almost immediately, a blue rectangular window appears in the air, steady and responsive, its glow calm compared to the chaos still echoing in my thoughts. The light doesn't flicker; it doesn't throb. It just waits. Unyielding, patient, as if it's watching me as much as I watch it.
«Yes? I'm here.»
The response grounds me—just a little. A tiny anchor in a sea of lingering disorientation. But even as I feel that tether, I can't ignore the echo of what I've seen, the ghost of the forest, the flashes of blood, the unnatural red sky.
"How long ago did Alice and Arthur leave?"
There's a brief pause. Barely noticeable, but enough to make my pulse tighten. My eyes trace the edges of the rectangle, lingering on the precise geometry, the sharp uniformity of the letters, the unnatural calm in the hue of blue.
«About ten minutes ago.»
The words sink in like stones in my stomach, heavy and unyielding. Time… moves differently than I thought. The forest, the blood, the chaos—was I really there? Or was it something else entirely?
I fall silent, staring at the floating blue rectangle as the realization settles into place. My thoughts churn slowly, unease coiling in my chest like a living thing.
Something doesn't line up...
Everything I saw out there… it didn't happen the way I experienced it. My chest tightens, a cold knot forming as I replay the images in my mind—the crimson sky, the twisted forest, the glowing magic circle. Nothing fits with what should have been.
Wait… are those forest scenes from the future?!
The thought presses against me, heavy, like a weight I can't lift. It gnaws at the edges of my mind, forcing me to replay every detail over and over: Alice's glowing eyes, the spinning magic circle, the aura crawling from the depths of the forest cold enough to freeze my spine. Everything is etched too sharply, too vividly, to be imagination. Too precise. Too deliberate.
If that really was the future… then what does that make me?
I stand there in silence, hands curling slightly at my sides, feeling almost exposed as I replay the images over and over. Every scream, every clash, every stain of crimson and purple—the memories are heavy, suffocating. My chest rises and falls shallowly, each breath a quiet struggle as the weight of understanding begins to settle in.
Slowly, I come to a decision.
The 'System' needs to know.
I turn toward the familiar blue interface, gathering my thoughts, choosing my words carefully. I can feel the pressure in the room, like air that resists my motion, like the walls themselves are waiting for me to act.
"Hey, Syste—"
Before I can finish, the air in front of me distorts.
Another blue rectangle forces its way into existence.
At first glance, it looks similar to the 'System'—same color, same rigid shape—but something about it feels wrong. It doesn't flicker. It doesn't hum. It doesn't respond to me at all. It just exists, unmoving and absolute, like a wall slammed down in front of my thoughts.
More unsettling than its presence is what doesn't happen.
The 'System' doesn't react.
No warning. No acknowledgment. Nothing.
It's as if the rectangle doesn't exist to it at all.
Then words appear.
{ THE REVEAL HAS BEEN DENIED }
My breath stops. My chest feels hollow, my heart thundering against my ribs. A surge of frustration rises inside me, sharp and uncontrollable. I reach out, trying to shove it aside—erase it—anything.
My hand passes straight through.
No resistance. No feedback.
Just empty air.
A chill spreads through my chest, creeping along my spine, curling around my heart. This thing isn't part of the 'System'.
The 'System' flickers beside me, finally speaking—completely unaware of what just happened.
«What's wrong?»
Its calm tone is like a knife pressed to my nerves. It clashes violently with the chaos in my mind, the storm of questions, fear, and unease still thrumming behind my eyes.
"I was about to tell you somethi—"
The rectangle slams back into place.
Sharper. Closer.
{ THE REVEAL HAS BEEN DENIED }
My teeth grind together. I glare at it, anger bubbling beneath fear, the low hum of tension tightening around my chest.
Tch…
The 'System' repeats itself, confusion creeping into its presence now.
«What's wrong?»
My mind races. If I say the wrong thing, will it appear again? Will it stop me again?
I hesitate. Every instinct screams to test it, but some deeper part of me cautions restraint.
"Oh… uh…"
My eyes sweep the room instinctively, half-expecting that thing to manifest somewhere else.
"I think people outside the house are becoming dangerous."
The moment the words leave my mouth, the air clears.
No rectangle.
No message.
I let out a slow breath, feeling tension ease slightly from my shoulders, though unease still curls in my gut.
Weird…
Is that thing completely separate from the System?
The thought gnaws at me, subtle but insistent, unsettling in a way I can't explain. If it can block information—even from the 'System'—then what else can it do?
A heavy, oppressive silence settles in the room. I feel the weight of unseen eyes pressing in from all sides, as though the air itself is listening, waiting. My heartbeat drums loud in my ears, each pulse a warning, a countdown.
Before I can follow that line of thinking any further, the 'System' abruptly reappears, its glow sharper than before, almost piercing in its clarity.
«What?! How do you know?»
"I can't say more."
I reply carefully, keeping my tone steady, measuring each word.
"But they're getting dangerous."
I avoid looking at the space where the rectangle had appeared, as if acknowledging it might summon it back.
The 'System' goes silent for a brief moment.
«So, are you helping them?»
The question hangs in the air, heavier than it should be.
I stare at the blue interface, weighing my answer. Whatever that thing was, it clearly didn't want me revealing certain information—but it hadn't stopped me from answering this.
"Hmm…"
I exhale slowly.
"…Of course not."
The words settle into the air, but the silence that follows is thicker than ever.