The sun had already dipped halfway behind the crooked rooftops when Michael trudged down the narrow street leading home.
The air was thick with the smell of smoke and dust, mixed with the faint scent of excrement. Sweat clung to his skin; his shirt, that once white, was now stained gray with cement dust. His boots scraped against the dirty road, leaving heavy, uneven foot prints.
'Another day done. Another shift survived.'
He winced as he flexed his blistered hands, stinging sharply because of torn skin hidden beneath a layer of dried concrete. The old foreman on the construction had pushed them hard again today, placing more bricks, more rebar, more shouting, more swearing.
But Michael didn't complain. He never did. Not when Elly and Kayla still needed him to come home.
He reached into his pocket, fishing out a cracked phone to check the time. 6:43 pm. The faint hum in the back of his mind pulsed again, like a heartbeat that wasn't his. The mark beneath his sleeve gave off a faint blue glow, barely visible under the fabric. He pulled the sleeve down quickly, as though the light could betray him.
"Forty minutes left…" he muttered under his breath.
The Trial System.
He had heard the whispers for years now. People that got chosen at random, being pulled away from their world into places of impossible danger. Those who survived returned as something, they become stronger, richer, and untouchable. While the rest were never seen again.
And now, it was his turn to be part of those individuals, it just that he doe know what fate lays ahead of him. Would he survived or would he fall like the others, there?
Michael let out a slow breath. The world looked painfully normal in his eyes, the laughter of children playing with plastic bottles, the clang of a tricycle engine starting, the smell of frying oil from a nearby stall. This ordinary life. He wanted it to freeze in place.
Then time moves fast and he finally reached their small home, with a single light bulb flickered above the wooden door. He pushed it open and was immediately greeted by the sound of familiar voices.
"Kuya! You're late again!" Elly called from the table, her cheeks puffed as she blew on a bowl of steaming rice.
(T/N: 'Kuya' refers to brother)
Kayla peeked from behind her sister, a matching grin on her face. "We thought the foreman have already buried you alive this time!"
Michael chuckled weakly, wiping sweat from his forehead. "Not yet. Maybe tomorrow he'll succeed."
"Ew, you stink!" Elly scrunched her nose as Micheal passed by. "You smell like you stump on shit!."
"That's because I almost did, maybe I did I don't know" He replied, forcing a grin. "You two have eaten yet?"
Kayla shook her head. "We're waiting for you."
He froze for half a second. The thought that they waited for him crush his heart, he don't know how to say that you don't need to as your kuya would be gone, and this maybe the last time they'll wait for him.
A small ache tugged in his chest as he spoked. "You shouldn't have. You know I get off late."
"It's fine," Enna said brightly. "Dinner's better when you're here."
He couldn't argue with that.
The meal was simple; a fried sardines, a pot of rice, and a single egg that they decided to share. The table creaked as he sat down, and the chair groaned beneath his weight. Michael's entire body felt like it was made of lead. His shoulders ached, his knees burned, and his back screamed with every breath.
Yet, as the first spoonful of rice touched his lips, something inside him softened.
The warmth, the sound of their laughter, the tiny fan buzzing weakly in the corner—it all felt like a fragile dream.
"Kuya" Kayla said between bites. "Our teacher said that if we get good grades this quarter, we might get to join the science fair in the city!"
Michael smiled. "Is that so? Then you better study hard. Maybe you'll invent something that'll get us out of this place."
"Like a robot maid!" Elly laughed. "Or a machine that makes food out of thin air! Like those in the movies"
"That'd be nice" He said softly.
He watched them as they bickered over who got the bigger share of rice, the way their hair stuck out unevenly, their chipped fingernails, the stains on their sleeves. They were growing up fast—too fast for his liking.
And he was running out of time.
The hum in his head grew stronger, faint numbers flickering behind his vision: [00:26:42]
Twenty-six minutes.
He swallowed, forcing his expression to stay neutral. He didn't want to worry them. Not now. Not when he couldn't stop what was coming.
"You okay, Kuya?" Henna asked, noticing his faraway look.
"Just tired," He added. "After a long day."
"Then don't work tomorrow," Elly said stubbornly. "We can skip dinner for a day."
He laughed quietly. "You're crazy."
But she wasn't wrong. He wanted to rest—really rest sleeping 8 or more a day. Yet that wasn't an option. Not here. Not with bills, rent, and two mouths to feed.
He took another spoonful, letting the flavor sink in. Sardines and rice. The same thing they'd eaten for three nights straight. And still, it tasted like home.
'I should tell them' He thought. 'They deserve to know.'
But how could he? What words could make it better?
"Hey, by the way, your brother is about to vanish into a nightmare world"?
No. That would only make them cry. Panic. Beg him not to go. It's not like he have that option.
So he smiled instead. Pretended nothing was wrong.
He watched the two of them laugh, watched how the light danced across their faces, and silently memorized every second.
Twenty minutes.
His mind wandered to the stories of those who returned from the Trials—those who became Hunters, Rulers, Ascendants. People who wielded strength beyond reason. Some said the System offered power equal to the gods.
If that was true, then maybe… maybe he had a chance.
He glanced at his sisters again. Elly's laughter filled the tiny room. Kayla was humming softly while drawing circles on her plate with her spoon.
'If I survive this' He thought. 'they'll never have to go hungry again.'
The thought steadied him. For the first time that night, the fear faded.
The hum in his head became a rhythmic pulse. [00:10:04]
He felt the mark on his arm throb through the fabric. The faint glow began to seep through, painting the edge of his sleeve in soft blue light.
"Kuya?" Kayla blinked. "Your arm is glowing."
Michael froze, then quickly covered it with his hand. "Just… reflection from the bulb."
"The bulb's color is white" Enna said, suspicious.
"Then maybe because I'm radioactive." He forced a chuckle, and they both giggled. It was a weak joke, but it worked.
He returned to his plate, hands trembling slightly.
Five minutes.
He forced himself to eat, pretending everything was fine. The rice was cold now, sticking to the metal spoon. His heart hammered against his ribs.
"Kuya, after dinner, can you—"
"I will," he interrupted softly. "Whatever it is, I'll do it."
Both of them blinked in confusion, then smiled.
"You promise?"
He nodded. "Promise."
[00:00:59]
The humming in his mind turned into a low vibration. The mark burned against his skin. His vision flickered; faint text appeared before his eyes:
[TRIAL'S SELECTION IS NOW COMPLETE]
[Candidate: Michael Arsia Vanne]
[TRANSFER INITIATING IN 60 SECONDS]
His throat tightened. He set his spoon down carefully, afraid they might notice his shaking hands.
"Elly, Kayla," He said quietly. "If anything ever happens… keep studying, okay? No matter what."
They exchanged puzzled looks.
"What are you talking about?"
"Nothing. Just… keep going... For me."
Thirty seconds.
He smiled faintly, eyes softening. "You two make me proud, you know that?"
Kayla giggled. "You're being weird again, Kuya."
"Yeah," Elly teased. "You sound like one of those sad drama characters."
Michael laughed quietly. It was a fragile, trembling sound.
He looked at them one last time. Memorized every detail.
Ten seconds.
He raised a spoonful of rice to his mouth, forcing his hands steady. The room suddenly dimmed, colors draining into gray.
Five seconds.
The mark beneath his sleeve flared with blinding blue light.
"Kuya?"
He looked at them, his smile gentle.
Then the world froze. His body began to dissolve, light scattering like dust in the wind. The spoon slipped from his fingers, falling in slow motion.
For a single heartbeat, the twins still laughed.
Then the sound of the spoon hitting the plate echoed across the room.
When they turned back, the chair was empty.