Elyon did not sleep.
He lay on his back, eyes open, staring at the cracked ceiling of his room. Water drops slowly fell from a pipe above, hitting a metal plate on the floor with a dull tick… tick… tick.
Each sound felt too loud.
His body was tired. His mind was not.
Every time he tried to close his eyes, the alley came back to him—the frozen rain, the twisted space, the moment the world felt wrong. He could still feel it in his bones, like a memory that refused to stay quiet.
Something inside him had changed.
And it was still there.
Elyon slowly sat up on the bed. The room was small, barely enough space to stand. One chair. One table. A weak light panel on the wall that flickered like it might die any second.
This was his world.
Simple. Harsh. Real.
He looked down at his hands.
They looked normal.
No glow. No strange heat. Just scars, dirt under the nails, and the marks of a life that had never been kind.
"Good," he whispered. "Stay normal."
His fingers moved on their own and reached into his coat pocket.
His heart tightened.
The coin rested in his palm.
It felt cold. Heavy.
Elyon frowned.
Last night, the coin had broken. He remembered it clearly—the crack splitting through it, the way it pulsed like it was alive.
But now—
It was whole.
Smooth.
Perfect.
"No," Elyon said quietly. "That's not right."
He turned it over again and again. There was no crack. No mark. Nothing special at all. It looked like an ordinary piece of metal.
But it wasn't.
He knew that now.
His fingers closed around it, hard enough to hurt. "What are you?" he asked.
The coin gave no answer.
Still, a soft pressure touched the back of his mind. Not words. Not thoughts. Just a feeling—like static after a loud noise.
Elyon dropped the coin back into his pocket and stood up.
"I'm not dealing with this," he muttered.
The streets were already awake.
People moved with tired faces and fast steps. No one looked at anyone else for too long. In the lower districts, attention was dangerous.
Elyon walked carefully, keeping his head down.
But something was different.
He felt it with every step.
The city felt… thin.
Not broken. Not unreal. Just slightly wrong. Like a picture that didn't fully line up.
He noticed things without trying.
A leaning pole that was about to fall.
A power cable buzzing too loudly.
A cracked wall that felt weak, ready to collapse.
He didn't think these things.
He knew them.
That scared him.
Elyon stopped near a small food stall. The smell of fried protein made his stomach twist with hunger. He hadn't eaten since before the alley.
The vendor looked up. "You buying or blocking my stall?"
Elyon opened his mouth to answer—
And froze.
Something felt wrong.
Very wrong.
The small generator under the stall hummed unevenly. Too fast. Too hot. Elyon felt a sharp pressure in his chest, like a warning.
It's going to fail.
The thought hit him suddenly.
"Turn it off," Elyon said without thinking.
The vendor frowned. "What?"
"Now," Elyon said. "Turn it—"
The generator exploded.
Heat and sound hit Elyon like a wall. He flew backward and slammed into the ground. His ears rang. Smoke filled the air.
People screamed.
Elyon pushed himself up, coughing. The vendor was on the ground, holding her arm, crying out in pain.
Drones dropped from above almost immediately.
Enforcers were coming.
Elyon's heart raced.
I knew, he thought.
I knew it would happen.
That thought made him feel sick.
He backed away slowly, then turned and ran before anyone could stop him.
As he disappeared into the crowd, the static returned—stronger now, tighter.
—CAUSAL EVENT LOGGED—
Elyon clenched his jaw. "Shut up," he whispered.
It didn't listen.
He didn't stop until his legs burned.
By the time he reached the old underground transit station, his hands were shaking. The place had been closed for years, but the locks were broken and the lights still worked—sometimes.
It was quiet here.
He needed quiet.
Elyon walked down the cracked stairs, each step echoing. Dust floated in the air. Old screens lined the walls, most of them dead.
One flickered as he passed.
Elyon stopped.
The screen flashed strange symbols for a split second. Broken shapes. Lines that almost made sense but didn't.
"What the hell…" he whispered.
—INTERFACE INSTABILITY—
Elyon grabbed his head. "Stop talking to me."
Silence.
Then—
A feeling.
Not a memory. Not a thought.
Something else.
Dark space. Endless and cold. A massive structure drifting, damaged, silent. Systems failing one by one. Not panic—just decisions being made. Cold choices. Survival choices.
Elyon dropped to his knees.
"That's not mine," he said, breathing hard. "That's not me."
The feeling vanished.
He stayed there for a long moment, shaking.
Then he heard footsteps.
Slow. Controlled.
"You shouldn't be here," a voice said.
Elyon looked up.
A man stood at the far end of the platform. Tall. Wearing a long coat reinforced with metal parts. His face was hidden behind a dark visor.
"I could say the same," Elyon replied, forcing himself to stand.
The man stepped closer. "You caused a disturbance last night."
Elyon's chest tightened. "I didn't mean to."
"That doesn't matter," the man said calmly. "Meaning never does."
Elyon felt the pressure inside him rise.
"What do you want?" Elyon asked.
"To stop you," the man said. "Before you hurt more people."
"I don't even know what I did!"
The man tilted his head. "Exactly."
Elyon's hand slipped into his pocket and touched the coin.
The metal pulsed.
The lights flickered.
The man stiffened. "You don't understand what you're waking up."
"Then explain it!" Elyon shouted.
For just one second—
The man hesitated.
The coin fractured.
Not in his hand—but in reality itself.
The air twisted. Sound stretched. Gravity bent.
The platform shook violently. Concrete cracked. Metal screamed.
"Damn it!" the man shouted, lunging forward.
The station began to collapse.
Elyon was thrown backward. Pain exploded through his body as his head struck the ground.
His vision faded.
As darkness closed in, one final presence pressed against his mind—cold, vast, and awake.
—ARK-01: PARTIAL ACTIVATION—
—INCUBATION SUBJECT CONFIRMED—
Elyon lost consciousness.
And far beneath the city, something ancient adjusted its focus.
The game had begun.