Morning came like it always did.
The ceiling fan creaked once, twice—then settled into its uneven rhythm. Sunlight slipped through the half-open curtains, painting a pale rectangle across the wall. Somewhere outside, a horn blared. A dog barked. Life moved forward, unaware of how close it was to being paused.
Aarav Sen opened his eyes and stared at the fan.
He lay still for a full minute, counting the rotations, waiting for motivation to arrive. It didn't. It never did.
"Another day," he murmured to no one.
He rolled out of bed, brushed his teeth with one hand while scrolling on his phone with the other, skimmed messages he didn't reply to, notifications he ignored. News headlines screamed about inflation, politics, some distant war. He yawned through all of it.
Breakfast was toast and tea. Too hot. He burned his tongue and swore softly, hopping in place like it mattered.
By late morning, he was outside—hood up, mask already on. Not because he needed it. Just because he preferred it. People didn't ask questions when they couldn't see your face properly. They looked away faster.
A quick errand. A short walk. Nothing memorable.
By noon, the heat settled in like a weight. The city slowed. Aarav returned home, lay down on the bed again, phone tossed aside.
"I'll sleep for a bit," he told the empty room.
The fan creaked.
And the world waited.
He dreamed of nothing.
Not falling. Not flying. Not even darkness.
Just… quiet.
Then—
⟦ GLOBAL SYSTEM INITIALIZATION ⟧
The voice didn't come from outside.
It came from everywhere.
From inside skulls. From the air. From the ground. From places sound had no right to exist.
Across Earth, people froze mid-step.
A spoon clattered to the floor. A car veered into a divider. A pen dropped in a classroom halfway across the planet.
⟦ DO NOT PANIC ⟧
Panic arrived instantly.
⟦ THIS IS A SYSTEM ANNOUNCEMENT ⟧
Aarav didn't wake up.
Not yet.
In living rooms, parents screamed as their children collapsed unconscious.
In streets, young men and women aged eighteen to twenty-four dropped where they stood, eyes rolling back, bodies limp.
Hospitals filled with alarms—then went silent.
Everywhere else, everyone else vanished.
In a blink.
No light. No sound. No warning.
One moment, they were there.
The next—
Empty clothes fell to the ground.
Phones clattered.
Entire cities lost their older generations in a single second.
⟦ PLAYER SELECTION COMPLETE ⟧
⟦ AGE RANGE: 18–24 ⟧
⟦ STATUS: ACTIVE ⟧
⟦ ALL NON-PLAYERS HAVE BEEN TRANSFERRED TO SYSTEM ROOMS ⟧
⟦ THEY ARE SAFE ⟧
⟦ THEY ARE WATCHING ⟧
Across the world, stadium-sized voids opened—not in space, but between it. Billions of people found themselves standing in white, endless rooms, screens floating before them, showing Earth from a thousand angles.
Their children.
Their cities.
Their world.
⟦ THE GAME WILL BE CONDUCTED ON EARTH ⟧
Female players vanished next.
Not all at once—but with intent.
One by one, young women disappeared from streets, buses, bedrooms.
They reappeared in unfamiliar buildings.
Schools with broken windows.
Universities with lights still on.
Office towers echoing with emptiness.
Dormitories. Malls. Hospitals.
Safe zones.
Temporary.
⟦ FIRST EVENT PREPARATION IN PROGRESS ⟧
Male players remained exactly where they were.
Alone.
Confused.
Aarav woke up when his phone slipped from the bed and hit the floor.
The sound was loud in the sudden stillness.
He blinked, heart stuttering, and sat up.
Something was wrong.
The fan had stopped.
The air felt… heavier. Pressurized.
His phone screen was lit.
Not with missed calls.
Not with messages.
But with a single black notification.
Floating.
Not on the screen.
Above it.
A translucent window hovered in the air, letters etched in cold white.
⟦ SYSTEM ACCESS AVAILABLE ⟧
⟦ TOUCH TO ENTER ⟧
Aarav stared.
Once.
Twice.
"…I'm still dreaming," he said.
The window pulsed.
Slow. Patient.
Like it had all the time in the world.
He swallowed.
Then reached out.
The moment his finger touched the light—
The room folded.
He stood in nothing.
Not darkness.
Not light.
Just space without distance.
A neutral grey stretched infinitely in all directions. No floor. No ceiling. No walls. Yet he stood, supported by something he couldn't feel.
A second window appeared.
⟦ PLAYER IDENTIFICATION IN PROGRESS ⟧
Aarav's first instinct wasn't fear.
It was embarrassment.
"…Wait," he muttered, tugging at his hoodie. "At least let me—"
He stopped.
His reflection didn't exist.
No body.
No face.
Only an outline.
Good.
Very good.
A third window opened.
⟦ USERNAME ASSIGNED ⟧
The word appeared slowly.
As if carved.
As if tested.
Then locked.
GOD
The space went silent.
Aarav blinked.
"…No," he said immediately. "That's a mistake."
The System did not respond.
Another window slid into place.
⟦ WARNING ⟧
⟦ USERNAME ASSIGNMENT IS NON-NEGOTIABLE ⟧
He let out a short, incredulous laugh.
"You're joking."
No answer.
A final window appeared—larger than the rest.
He felt pressure in his chest as it unfolded.
⟦ FIRST TASK INITIALIZATION ⟧
⟦ LOADING… ⟧
The bar crawled forward.
One percent.
Two.
Aarav looked around the endless grey, mask forming instinctively over his face, hiding features no one was supposed to see.
"…This is bad," he said softly.
The loading bar reached ten percent.
Then paused.
⟦ TASK DETAILS WILL BE PROVIDED SHORTLY ⟧
The System went quiet.
Too quiet.
Somewhere far away, Earth screamed.
Aarav stood alone in the space between things, username glowing faintly above nothing at all.
And for the first time that day—
He stopped smiling.
End of Chapter 1