John's vision collapsed into blinding white.
His scream caught and vanished in his throat as he felt himself plummet—not in a downward descent, but outward, as if the very force of gravity had relinquished its hold on him. The classroom walls, the mocking expressions of the bullies, and the fleeting touch of Fiona's hand slipping from his grasp—all that was known and tangible splintered apart and disintegrated into a void of nothingness.
Silence followed.
Not the absence of sound—but the presence of something vast.
Weightlessness enveloped him.
A frigid emptiness swept across his skin with the faint crackle of static, sending a shiver that lifted goosebumps along his arms. The sensation was otherworldly, disconnected from any physical feeling he had ever experienced, as though it existed beyond the realm of normal perception.
Slowly, John opened his eyes.
Before him lay an infinite expanse, a boundless void interwoven with drifting lights. Stars glimmered like far-off embers, some igniting into life, others fading into darkness, each suspended in a timeless moment of cosmic genesis. There was no horizon to mark an edge, no ground to anchor him, no sky to arch above—only the raw essence of existence, unveiled in its purest form.
The air carried an unsettling quality, dense and charged with an almost tangible electricity that clung to the senses. It was heavy on the tongue, its flavor both unnervingly foreign and oddly alluring, creating a heady mix that was as disconcerting as it was compelling.
"Where… am I?" he whispered.
His voice barely echoed.
A gentle chime echoed through the silence, breaking the stillness with its delicate sound.
From the depths of darkness emerged a luminous figure, his presence casting a soft yet commanding glow. Vast wings spread wide, their structure resembling intricate tapestries of moonlight, each feather radiating a subtle, dignified brilliance. The surrounding void appeared to shift and bow in silent reverence, as if the very fabric of nothingness recognized and honored his arrival.
"Welcome, John Arden," the figure spoke. The words bypassed the air entirely, resonating instead within John's mind—calm, deliberate, and unwavering.
John stumbled backward, heart hammering. "Who—who are you?"
The figure smiled, and within that expression was warmth.
"I am Aurelios, Overseer of the D-7," he announced with commanding authority. "You now stand among the Chosen."
The term landed with the force of a physical strike, its weight sinking deep into the air between them.
"Chosen for what? "John pressed, his voice rising as panic constricted his chest. "Why have I been brought here? What became of my class—what happened to—"
His voice broke.
"—to Fiona?"
Aurelios raised a single hand.
Light rippled outward, washing over John. The trembling in his limbs eased, though the fear remained.
"The one you name still lives," Aurelios said gently. "But your paths have diverged—for now."
Relief and grief collided in John's chest.
Before he had the chance to speak again, a sudden movement stirred in the space behind Aurelios.
A towering, alien-like figure advanced, its elongated limbs adorned with shimmering translucent patterns reminiscent of starlight imprisoned within crystal. The sound of its voice was marked by peculiar clicks and resonances, yet the meaning came through to John with perfect clarity.
"Welcome to Kaeltharion."
John swallowed hard. "Kael… what?"
In an instant, his mind was overwhelmed by a rush of memories—the tolling of a distant bell, the flicker of countless screens, and the intricate glow of a magic circle etched in light.
The alien slowly lifted a slender arm, and in that moment, three iridescent cards appeared in the air before John, suspended in flawless alignment. Each card emitted a faint, rhythmic pulse, as though imbued with a contained and potent energy, their shimmering surfaces hinting at the mysterious power they held.
Aurelios drifted closer, wings folding.
"These are your starter selections," he said. "You may choose only one."
"No choice is without cost," the alien added. "And no reward comes without obligation."
John stared at the cards, unease coiling in his gut. "Why give me this at all?"
"Your world has hit a tipping point," Aurelios said gently, his voice calm but carrying weight. "Just getting by isn't going to cut it anymore."
John's breath hitched.
Slowly, he extended his hand.
He hesitated—then chose.
A burst of light flared, dazzling yet without causing pain. The card disintegrated into his palm, its essence seeping inward and flowing like warm ink through the intricate network beneath his skin.
Aurelios inclined his head. "Your trial begins now."
"Farewell, John Arden," the alien echoed.
A luminous circle flared to life beneath his feet, radiating an otherworldly glow. The very fabric of space convulsed with violent force, distorting and twisting as if fractured into countless jagged shards of glass.
"Wait!" John cried. "What about the others—what about Fiona?!"
The void answered with silence.
The light consumed him.
Cold.
John crashed onto the uneven terrain, his breath catching as the cool, damp earth pressed firmly against his palms.
Jagged stones and coarse soil tore at the skin of his knees as he pushed himself unsteadily to his feet.
In the stillness, the sound of leaves shifting reached his ears—measured and intentional, far too precise to be the work of the wind.
Above him, the sky blazed with surreal colors, where violet merged seamlessly into crimson and was slashed by molten orange clouds contorting in unnatural patterns.
The air carried a keen, alien edge, infused with the mingled scents of pine, salt, and an underlying wildness that hinted at something untamed and primal.
The world around him was both breathtaking in its beauty and unyielding in its hostility.
John lowered his gaze to his hand, where a luminous sigil throbbed with an otherworldly rhythm.
Shaped like a card yet brimming with life and authority, it seemed almost sentient in its presence.
Lines of text began to inscribe themselves into the radiant glow, as if the light itself were a canvas for an urgent and unspoken message.
SURVIVE UNTIL DAY 10.
John clenched his fist.
"Alright," he murmured to the immense, otherworldly expanse above, his tone unwavering despite the enormity of the moment. "If this is the course that ensures humanity's survival, then I shall remain steadfast."