The evening air in Nawala was thick, heavy with the kind of humidity that promised a thunderstorm but never delivered. Ethan Jae Park stood on the narrow balcony of his third-floor apartment, his fingers resting lightly on the rusted metal railing. Below, the familiar chaos of the Colombo suburbs hummed along its usual tracks. The distant, rhythmic honking of tuk-tuks, the aromatic scent of kottu being chopped at a nearby street stall, and the occasional sharp bark of a stray dog were the soundtrack of a world that felt permanent.
Yet, Ethan's mind was elsewhere. He wasn't looking at the traffic. He was calculating the patterns of the clouds.
The barometric pressure is dropping faster than the wind speed suggests, he thought, his eyes narrowing. Something is off. The birds are silent. Even the stray dogs have stopped fighting over the scraps near the kottu stall.
Ethan was twenty-five, but he possessed a mind that saw the world not as a collection of objects, but as a series of interconnected data points. He didn't just "feel" things; he analyzed them. And right now, the data were screaming that the world's equilibrium was about to shift.
Behind him, the sliding glass door creaked open.
"You're doing it again," a voice said. It was soft, but it carried a playful edge that always managed to bypass Ethan's mental filters.
He didn't turn around. "Doing what?"
"Calculating the probability of rain based on the flight patterns of the crows," Krishara said, stepping out beside him. She leaned against the railing, her shoulder brushing his.
Ethan glanced at her. Krishara was the only person in his life who was a "statistical anomaly." He had married her because, three years ago, she had done something he deemed impossible: she had predicted his own move in a game of strategy not by logic, but by "feeling" his mood. She was the only variable he couldn't solve, and that fascinated him more than any equation.
"The crows are flying lower than usual," Ethan remarked, his voice calm. "But the wind is coming from the south. It's not a storm, Krish. It's… something else."
Krishara looked out over the city, her expression softening. "Maybe you should stop thinking for five minutes and just breathe, Ethan. Nethan is waiting for you to help him with his 'space station' in the living room."
Ethan felt the tension in his chest loosen slightly. He looked at his wife, her steady gaze, the way she handled the world with an intuitive grace he lacked. She was his anchor in a world of cold numbers.
"Appachchi! Look! It's ready!"
Their five-year-old son, Nethan, burst onto the balcony, holding a structure made of mismatched plastic blocks. He held it up with a grin that mirrored his mother's.
Ethan crouched down, his analytical mind immediately identifying the structural weaknesses in the toy. But before he could speak, he stopped.
The world died.
It wasn't a sound. It was the absence of everything. The tuk-tuk honking stopped mid-blast. The sizzle of the kottu stall vanished. Even the wind, which had been tugging at Krishara's hair, froze. Nethan was frozen mid-laugh, a statue of a child.
Ethan's heart hammered against his ribs, but his brain didn't panic. It accelerated.
Time dilation? No, I can still think. Mass paralysis? No, I can move my eyes. A localized field?
Then, a presence filled the space. It didn't come from the sky or the ground. It felt like it was being projected directly into the folds of his gray matter.
[All intelligent life on Earth has been selected.]
The voice was cold. It was the sound of a machine made of stars, ancient, indifferent, and absolute.
[System integration will begin shortly.]
Ethan didn't scream. He didn't reach for Krishara, though he could see her frozen form beside him. He stood up, his eyes scanning the "nothingness" around him.
[Before initialization, each individual is granted three questions.]
[Answers will be provided based on value.]
[Points will be awarded accordingly.]
Value, Ethan thought. The system isn't just giving information; it's testing us. It wants to see who can ask the right thing. It's a filter.
He knew that millions of people were probably wasting their questions right now. "Why is this happening?" "Is this a dream?" "When will it stop?" Those were useless. They provided no leverage.
Ethan closed his eyes. He needed a question that covered the most ground with the least amount of words. He needed a roadmap.
"What is the safest and most efficient path to survive and reach the highest power level in the system?" he asked aloud. His voice sounded strange in the absolute silence of Nawala.
A heartbeat passed. Then, a flicker of light appeared in his vision.
[Processing...]
[Evaluation complete.]
[Intelligence: High.]
[Relevance: Critical.]
[Scope: Exceptional.]
[Reward granted: 1000 points.]
[Rank: Legendary.]
Ethan's pulse quickened. Legendary. He had hit the mark.
[Answer: To survive and reach the highest power level: avoid early exposure to high-risk zones. Prioritize information over combat. Secure a unique or evolving talent before mass awakening. Exploit system loopholes before global awareness increases.]
[The strongest are not those who fight first, but those who understand first.]
Ethan committed every word to memory. Information over combat. That was his specialty. But the mention of "loopholes" caught his attention. If there were loopholes, the system wasn't perfect. Or, it was designed to be exploited by those smart enough to see the cracks.
He didn't hesitate. He needed to know the rules the system wasn't telling him.
"What hidden rules, penalties, and loopholes exist in the system that humans are not informed about?"
The silence that followed was heavier. It felt like the "presence" was leaning in, looking at him more closely.
[Processing...]
[Evaluation complete.]
[Intelligence: Very high.]
[Risk factor: Extreme.]
[Depth: Rare.]
[Reward granted: 1 Mythic point.]
Mythic. Ethan didn't know what a Mythic point was yet, but the weight of the word felt immense.
[Answer: Hidden rules: early deaths increase difficulty scaling for survivors. The system favors individuals who act before understanding spreads.]
[Penalties: misuse of high-tier knowledge results in hidden restrictions. Revealing system loopholes reduces personal growth potential.]
[Loopholes: pre-initialization actions are not fully regulated. Unique talents can bypass system limitations.]
[Information is power. Sharing it is a weakness.]
Ethan's mind raced. Pre-initialization actions are not fully regulated. That meant right now, this very moment, was a "gray zone." He could do things now that would be impossible once the clock started ticking.
He had one question left. The most important one. He thought about Krishara. He thought about Nethan. If he took a standard talent, he would be bound by the system's balance. He would be just another "player."
He needed to be the "glitch."
"Is it possible to create or obtain a unique, self-defined talent beyond the system's predefined options, and how?"This time, the delay was agonizing. The air seemed to vibrate with a low, humming frequency. Ethan felt a strange sensation, as if a pair of eyes was watching him from inside his own mind. For a split second, the coldness of the voice seemed to waver, replaced by a faint, almost imperceptible spark of curiosity.
[Processing...]
[Evaluation complete.]
[Intelligence: Exceptional.]
[Impact: System-level.]
[Classification: Restricted.]
[Answer: Yes.]
Ethan waited for the "how," but the message shifted.
[A self-defined talent can be created under one condition...]
[Further information locked.]
[Requirement must be discovered.]
Ethan didn't feel frustrated. He felt a surge of adrenaline. It's possible. The system had confirmed it, even if it hid the price.
[System phase one initializing.]
The world snapped back into existence.
The tuk-tuk finished its honk. The smell of kottu hit Ethan's nose with overwhelming force. Nethan's plastic space station clattered to the balcony floor as the boy stumbled, blinking in confusion.
Krishara gasped, her hand flying to her chest. She looked at Ethan, her eyes wide with a terror she couldn't explain.
"Ethan… did you… Did you hear that?"
Ethan looked at his family, then up at the sky. The crows were gone. The clouds were swirling into a pattern that defied the laws of meteorology.
"I heard it," Ethan said, his voice steady, though his heart was still racing. He reached out and took Krishara's hand. Her skin was cold, but his grip was firm. "Don't panic. Just listen to me. Everything is about to change, but we are going to be the ones who change it.
"He looked at the translucent panel that was beginning to shimmer in the air before his eyes.
The game had begun. And Ethan Jae Park already had the cheat codes.
End of Chapter 01