Kael Mercer was used to ugly ceilings.
The one above his bed tonight was no exception. Hairline cracks webbed through the stained plaster. A dark water ring stared back at him like a lopsided halo. Dust clung to the old fan that whined every time it turned, threatening to fling one of its crooked blades across the room.
He lay on his mattress, fully dressed, phone resting on his chest, watching the fan spin. His eyes were open and sharp, but his body felt heavy, like someone had poured concrete into his bones.
Twelve forty-seven.
The time glowed on his phone screen in harsh white letters. Beneath it, three unread texts from a number he had muted weeks ago.
Mom
Kael, they called again about the bill. Please call me when you can.
Mom
They said if we do not pay this week, they will shut it off. I am sorry I could not
Mom
Please
He locked the screen with a thumb. The texts vanished into black. The guilt did not.
The overhead light flickered once, a tired pulse, then steadied. The fan squealed. Somewhere outside, a siren wailed and then faded into the distance.
The city never really slept down here. Too many people stacked on top of each other. Too many problems packed into rusted apartment blocks and broken sidewalks.
Kael leaned his head to the side and glanced at the envelope on his nightstand. Navy blue. Thick paper. The university's crest stamped in gold.
FINAL NOTICE.
He did not need to read it again. Tuition due. Balance unpaid. Enrollment terminated. Payment options attached, all of them hilarious in the way drowning was hilarious to someone already underwater.
He pushed himself up, the springs under his mattress groaning.
"Stupid," Kael muttered. "Should've known."
Known what, exactly, he did not say. That scholarships never last. That good grades mean nothing without rent money. That the world did not care how hard he worked, only how much he could pay.
He stood and crossed the small room, avoiding the one soft spot on the floorboards that always creaked like a gunshot. His reflection stared back at him from the dirty window, faint and ghostly.
Dark skin. Short, messy hair. Sharp cheekbones. Tired eyes that looked older than nineteen.
He pushed the window up. It jammed halfway, as always, but he forced it open with a grunt. The night air slid in, humid and heavy with the smell of exhaust, fried food, and wet concrete.
Far below, the streetlights washed the cracked sidewalks in sickly orange. A group of kids laughed too loudly at something on a phone. Across the street, the corner store's flickering sign buzzed, clinging to life. A stray dog nosed through an overturned trash can.
The world looked small from up here, Kael thought. Small and fragile.
His phone buzzed.
He glanced at the screen, expecting more texts from his mother.
Instead, a notification stretched across the top.
An app he had never installed.
No icon he recognized. Just a thin cracked circle, like a ring of broken glass.
Labyrinth Protocol
The name sent a cold, irrational shiver down his spine.
He frowned and tapped it.
The screen went white.
For a heartbeat, nothing happened. He caught his reflection in the glass, eyebrows drawn together, lips pressed tight.
Then symbols appeared. Not letters, not numbers, just jagged strokes of black that crawled across the screen like ink spilling in water. They shifted, rearranging themselves into something he could read.
Initializing
Please remain calm
He felt it then. A pressure in the air, subtle but there. Like the moment before a storm, when the clouds gather and the wind holds its breath.
"Great," he said under his breath. "Another scam."
He pressed the home button. The screen did not change.
The text continued to rewrite itself.
Global Resonance: Achieved
Anchoring Structure: Deploying
From the street below came a sound he had never heard before.
A low, grinding groan, as if the earth itself had ground gears. The building shivered under his feet. The window frame rattled. Something crashed in the apartment next door, followed by a shout.
Kael's pulse spiked.
He looked out the window.
The sky was breaking.
It did not crack like glass. Reality tore like paper, long ragged seams of red and black splitting the night. Between the stars, jagged lines of light ripped downward, carving patterns across the air.
The moon warped, stretching thin, then pulling back into a needle-point and vanishing between the tears. Streetlights flickered, humming like angry wasps. For a moment the whole world went dim and gray, like someone had drawn a curtain over it.
Then the curtain dropped.
He saw it.
Far beyond the apartment blocks and the narrow streets, above the skeletons of skyscrapers and dead billboards, something enormous descended.
It was not a tower. It was not a building. It was an impossibility.
A labyrinth.
From his window, Kael could see only part of it, jutting up from the horizon, a tangled forest of stone and metal and glass. Walls twisted into unnatural angles, overlapping platforms hung suspended in nothing, staircases coiled around each other like serpents devouring their own tails. The structure climbed far beyond where the clouds used to be, into the fractured sky, until it vanished among the jagged rifts of light.
The sound of grinding stone and warping metal echoed through the city, layered over the rising chorus of screams.
His phone buzzed again.
He tore his gaze away and looked down.
New text appeared on the screen.
Labyrinth Protocol
Global Integration successful
Role Assignment in progress
A sharp pain stabbed through his skull, like someone had pushed broken glass into his brain. He staggered back from the window, gasping, one hand flying to his temple. The phone nearly slipped from his fingers.
Images flashed behind his eyes.
Endless corridors, lit by pale blue fire.
A door of bone, hanging in the air with no wall to hold it.
A throne room filled with water. A crown sinking, trailing bubbles like blood.
He saw a hand reaching toward him. Long fingers made of shadow and stone, each knuckle etched with a different symbol.
His heart slammed against his ribs.
The pain spiked and then stopped.
The images vanished, leaving only a bitter aftertaste, like static on his tongue.
Text burned into focus on his phone.
Role Assignment complete
Subject: Kael Mercer
Designation: Labyrinth Monarch
Authority: Fragmented
Synchronization: 4 percent
He stared at the words, chest rising and falling too fast.
"Monarch," he said under his breath. "Sure. Right."
He tapped the screen. Nothing happened. He tried to exit the app again. Still nothing. The cracked circle pulsed once, like a heartbeat.
New lines of text appeared, replacing the old.
Survival Conditions
The Labyrinth is now anchored to your world
All environments are Subject to Reshaping
All Entities are Subject to Reclassification
Objective
Survive the First Descent
Reach the Nearest Nexus Gate within 60 minutes
Failure will result in Reclamation
Kael read the last line twice.
"Reclamation," he repeated. "What does that even mean?"
Outside, someone screamed.
Not the distant, almost ignorable scream of an argument or a car crash. A raw, animal sound that clawed under his skin and made the hairs on his arms stand up.
He moved back to the window.
The street below was no longer the street he knew.
The sidewalk had split open into a yawning trench. Stone steps descended into darkness where asphalt used to be. The corner store was twisted, its walls pulled like taffy, windows elongated into narrow slits that leaked red light. The kids from earlier clung to each other, pressed against a parking meter that had warped into a spiraling spire.
Something crawled up from the trench.
It was the size of a large dog, but wrong in every way. Too many joints, too many angles. Its body looked like it had been carved from chunks of concrete and rebar, held together by veins of glowing blue. Where its face should have been was a broken traffic cone, split neatly down the middle, hollow interior filled with teeth.
A label flickered into existence over its head, just visible even from Kael's window.
[Reclaimed Shardling]
Tier: F
The kids froze. The creature tilted its cone-head, then lunged with terrifying speed.
Kael jerked away from the window just as the first choked cry cut off.
His stomach turned. His fingers were trembling around the phone now.
He wanted to think that this was a hallucination. That he had fallen asleep and his brain was punishing him with something insane. But the smell of dust and ozone in the air was too sharp, the distant metallic tang of blood too real.
His phone vibrated again.
New text.
Monarch Directive
Authority awakened at 4 percent
Basic Functions unlocked
Then, lines of information unfurled.
Monarch's Sight
Effect: Reveal classifications of entities and structures within line of sight
Status: Passive, Active at current Synchronization
Lesser Domain Claim
Effect: Temporarily impose Labyrinth Authority within a limited radius, altering environmental rules
Status: Locked, requires 10 percent Synchronization
Core Resonance
Effect: Draws in ambient Fracture Energy, increasing Synchronization
Status: Passive, Growth rate dependent on actions
Kael read quickly, the words sinking in with a cold, detached clarity that surprised even him.
He had always been good at this part. The part where everything went wrong and you either panicked or did something about it.
Panic never helped.
Something heavy thudded against his door.
He spun, heart in his throat.
"Kael!" a familiar voice wheezed. "Kael, open up!"
Mr. Han.
The old man from the end of the hallway.
Kael moved fast, crossing to the door and pressing his ear against it before unlocking anything.
"What's happening out there?" Kael called.
"A nightmare," Mr. Han gasped. "The hallway, it moved, it is not straight anymore. Something is coming from the stairwell. Please."
Another thud. Scrabbling sounds. A wet scraping noise that made Kael's molars ache.
His fingers found the lock.
He hesitated.
If he opened the door and something followed Mr. Han inside, the tiny apartment would turn into a coffin.
If he did nothing, someone who had slid him leftover food more than once would die on the other side.
The phone buzzed in his hand.
A new line of text appeared, cold and neat.
Choice Point detected
Action will influence Synchronization and Domain Trajectory
Kael's lips twisted into a humorless half smile.
"Of course it will," he muttered.
He unlocked the door and yanked it open.
The hallway outside had stretched.
It was longer than it should have been, floorboards warped into a gentle downward slope that should not exist in this building. The faded wallpaper had peeled away, revealing something like stone underneath, etched with faint glowing lines that pulsed in time with his heartbeat.
Mr. Han clung to the doorframe, chest heaving, eyes wide behind his crooked glasses. His gray hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat.
"Thank you, boy," he panted. "Thank you."
Beyond him, at the far end of the hallway where the stairwell door used to be, a hole gaped in the wall. It was not a normal hole. It was a perfect circle of darkness, smooth around the edges as if carved by something surgical. The darkness inside it was too thick, swallowing the weak emergency lights.
From that darkness, something crawled.
It had too many legs.
Kael's eyes focused. Words flickered into place in the air above it.
[Fragmented Crawler]
Tier: F
Classification: Reclaimed Entity
More lines, smaller, scrolling fast. Resistances. Behavioral tags. Aggression levels. Weaknesses.
Its carapace is brittle at joint intersections. Its sensory organs track vibration and heat. It prefers targets that attempt to flee.
"Inside," Kael said.
He grabbed Mr. Han's arm and pulled him into the apartment, slamming the door behind him. He locked it out of instinct, even though some part of him suspected a lock made for burglars would not stop whatever that was.
Mr. Han stumbled inside, wheezing. "What is that thing? What is happening?"
Kael's mouth was dry. "If I said I knew, I'd be lying."
The floor trembled. A skittering sound scraped along the hall, then paused right outside the door.
Every hair on Kael's arms stood up. His fingers tightened around his phone.
He looked at the screen.
New prompt.
Minor Encounter detected
Failed Monarchs would flee
Recommendation: Do not flee
"Funny," Kael whispered. "Real funny."
The door shook as something heavy bumped against it.
Mr. Han flinched. "It will break through. We are trapped."
Kael stared at the door.
If the creature preferred targets that ran, then staying put was the right call. Theoretically. But he doubted it would just give up and leave like a polite neighbor.
The phone chimed.
Core Resonance opportunity detected
Would you like to assert Lesser Authority
Warning: Synchronization below recommended threshold
He exhaled slowly.
"Explain," Kael said.
The app responded instantly.
At current Synchronization, you may attempt a proto Domain Assertion
Result stability not guaranteed
Success will reclassify current environment as Temporary Monarch Zone, weakening external Reclaimed Entities within its bounds
Risk
Authority feedback may damage subject psyche
He thought of his mother's texts. The unpaid bills. The people downstairs screaming. Mr. Han's shaking shoulders.
He also thought of the grinding noise in his skull from a few minutes ago. The shadow hand. The crown sinking in dark water.
"Psyche is already damaged," he muttered.
He did not know how he knew how to do it. There were no instructions in words, no step by step guide. There was only an idea that settled into his mind like a new muscle he could suddenly flex.
Kael closed his eyes.
He pictured the apartment. The stained ceiling. The cracked walls. The wheezing fan. Mr. Han's ragged breathing behind him. The rattle of the door as the creature outside tested it.
He imagined all of it outlined in thin lines of pale light, like a sketch waiting to be inked. Then he imagined those lines connecting, forming a circle that began and ended in his chest.
For a heartbeat, nothing happened.
Then something clicked.
The world inhaled.
Cold rushed through him, a tidal surge starting at his fingertips and slamming into his heart. His vision flickered black, then bloomed with color more vivid than before. He felt pressure behind his eyes, like they were trying to see too much at once.
Text overlayed itself on the apartment, transparent and humming.
[Temporary Monarch Zone] established
Stability: 7 percent
Radius: 4 meters
Effect: Reclaimed Entities entering zone suffer structural destabilization
Pain stabbed through his skull. He gritted his teeth and held on.
Outside, the door rattled again. This time, even through the wood, he heard an ugly wet crack, like ceramic shattering underwater.
The creature shrieked.
The sound drove into his ears, too high and too low at the same time, a layered chorus of animal panic.
Then there was a heavier thud, followed by silence.
Mr. Han clapped his hands over his ears, face twisted. "What did you do?"
Kael opened his eyes. The pain in his head faded to a dull ache. The glowing text around the room dimmed but did not vanish. He could still feel the thin circle of his domain, humming at the edge of his senses like a stretched rubber band.
His phone vibrated in his hand.
Core Resonance gained
Synchronization increased
New value flashed in the corner.
Synchronization: 7 percent
He exhaled slowly.
"I did what it told me to do," Kael said. "For once."
He walked to the door.
"Are you mad?" Mr. Han hissed. "Do not open it. It will come in."
"If it could still move, it would already be inside," Kael replied. "Either it's dead, or it is trying to figure out what just happened to it. I need to know which."
He unlocked the door and opened it a crack.
The hallway beyond looked the same as before. Warped. Too long. Sloping downward into impossible geometry.
But right outside his door, sprawled across the floor, lay the creature.
Up close, it looked even more wrong. Like someone had tried to assemble a centipede from shattered building materials. Segmented limbs of cracked plaster and splintered wood extended in every direction. Its body was a ribbed tube of concrete fragments fused with twisted metal.
Now, though, spiderweb fissures covered its entire form, glowing faintly with pale blue light. The glow was fading rapidly. As Kael watched, a segment near its center crumbled into dust, the fragments evaporating into thin air as if they had never been solid at all.
The floating label over its ruined body flickered.
[Fragmented Crawler]
Status: Unstable
Time to full Dissolution: 12 seconds
"Good," Kael murmured.
He stepped out, keeping one foot inside the apartment. He did not know what would happen if he left his improvised domain completely. He was not eager to find out.
At his presence, new text appeared hovering over the dissolving creature.
Claim option available
Absorb Residual Core Fragments
"Now you are just saying words," he said under his breath.
Still.
Everything in him screamed that this was dangerous. That touching something like this, something that did not obey any law he understood, was a bad idea.
But another, quieter part of him pointed out that the city was reshaping itself into a maze, monsters were crawling out of holes in reality, and he was holding the only thing that looked remotely like an advantage.
He crouched and extended his hand.
His fingers hovered a centimeter above the creature's cracked carapace. The air above it tingled, cold and sharp.
"Claim," Kael said.
The word felt right. Heavy.
Light flared.
Not bright enough to blind him, but bright enough that he saw its afterimage burned into his vision when he blinked. Blue shards of light peeled away from the creature's body, drawn upward in a slow spiral. They condensed above his palm, gathering into a small, jagged shape that pulsed once in time with his heartbeat.
A Core Fragment.
Words appeared.
[Minor Core Fragment] acquired
Effect: Increases Synchronization when integrated, unlocks basic Labyrinth Affinity
Kael stared at it. It looked like a broken piece of crystal, edges razor sharp, interior swirling with faint mist.
"Now what," he muttered.
Integration available
Warning: First integration will define initial Affinity vector
He hesitated.
"Does not tell me what affinities even are," he said softly. "Figures."
The fragment floated closer, as if drawn by his voice.
He thought of how the domain had felt when it snapped into place. Cold. Sharp. Controlled.
He thought of the images he had seen earlier. The throne underwater. The sinking crown. The shadow hand.
His chest tightened.
He could walk away. Let the fragment dissolve with the rest of the creature. Stay in his tiny apartment and pretend the world would fix itself.
But the Labyrinth outside continued to grind against the sky. The city continued to twist. People continued to scream.
Kael clenched his jaw.
If the world had decided to turn into a maze, he refused to be one of the people wandering it blind.
"Integrate," he said.
The fragment shot forward.
Cold stabbed into his palm, racing up his arm like liquid ice. He sucked in a breath, but the pain was not quite pain, not the kind he understood. It was more like being rewritten from the inside out. Lines of force spiderwebbed through his veins, tracing new patterns over old flesh.
His phone chimed.
Synchronization increased
New Affinity registered
Affiliation: Dominion of Shards
Primary Aspect: Control through Fracture
Information poured into his mind. Not full knowledge, not clear and easy explanations, but impressions. Instinct.
He saw rooms where gravity shifted sideways. Corridors that folded on themselves, trapping enemies in endless loops. Invisible walls that only he could pass through.
His body trembled.
When it finally stopped, he exhaled shakily.
Synchronization: 11 percent
The Temporary Monarch Zone trembled around him, as if acknowledging the change. The faint glow outlining the doorframe sharpened. The apartment felt more his somehow. Not rented. Not borrowed. Claimed.
Mr. Han peeked around the doorframe, eyes still wide. "Is it gone?"
Kael looked at the spot where the creature had been. Only dust remained, already fading, leaving the warped floor bare.
"Yeah," he said. "For now."
He stepped back inside.
His phone screen refreshed.
Updated Objective
Reach nearest Nexus Gate within 60 minutes
Monarch Status will degrade if no Gate is reached
Time remaining: 53 minutes
A faint map unfolded over the building's layout, overlaying his mental image of it. The nearest Nexus Gate pulsed a few blocks away, deep within a cluster of rapidly shifting structures.
Kael slipped the phone into his pocket.
"The world is not safe anymore," Mr. Han whispered. "Where will we go?"
Kael looked at the older man. At his shaking hands, his thin shoulders, his hopeless eyes.
You could leave him, a quiet, cold voice inside suggested. He will slow you down.
Another voice, just as cold, replied.
If you plan to rule a labyrinth, what kind of Monarch cannot even protect one person in his own domain.
He rolled his shoulders, feeling the lingering buzz of the Core Fragment under his skin.
"We go to that gate," Kael said. "Whatever it is."
"And if it is a trap?" Mr. Han asked.
Kael glanced toward the window. The distant labyrinth still climbed into the shattered sky, a wound in reality that would not close.
"If this is a trap," he said, "we are already inside it."
He stepped toward the door, his makeshift domain humming around him like a promise, or a threat.
For the first time since the sky broke, Kael did not feel like a victim.
He felt like something the Labyrinth should be afraid of.
"Come on," he said. "Let's see what kind of game they really want to play."
Outside, the shattered world shifted, rearranging itself into a maze that was only beginning to wake up.