[Stepforth, prospect. You have been chosen for the Jester Game.]
[Your trial is upon you.]
Glowing runes burst into view, hovering inches from his face, flickering with colors no normal person could see. They gleamed with an oily, opalescent light, each symbol pulsing faintly like it was alive.
Runes!? Vlad staggered back instinctively. His breath caught in his throat.
The instant the symbols appeared, a leaden weight sank into his skull. His head felt like it was being pulled down by invisible hands. His vision blurred, then snapped into sharpness, then blurred again.
What the hell is happening?
He blinked hard. Once. Twice.
The runes glistened brighter, casting strange shadows across his face.
Were thoughts about becoming a Player taking up so much space in my head that I'm daydreaming about it now? Vlad frowned.
His knees wobbled. The world tilted slightly, and for a terrifying second, he thought he'd fall.
Then the dizziness passed–just enough for him to register where he was.
He stood at the top of a short stairwell, leading down to the subway entrance. The sign above the steps flickered. His vision darkened and the sounds of the street had quieted behind him for a split second.
No. No way. Why me? How!? Vlad's hand shot up to his temple instinctively. How the fuck am I seeing the runes only Players are supposed to see!?
Panic surged up his throat. Every hair on his body stood on end as realization dawned that this was indeed reality and not a dream.
Shit, shit!
He spun and ran as fast as he could.
The sounds around him dulled further, melting into murmurs behind him. His boots pounded the pavement hard as he ran.
Vlad Frantically burst onto Mors Street, his heart hammering against his ribs like a warning drum. His breath came in short, ragged gasps turning to mist in the freezing air. The sharp cold grazed his face as he ran, stinging his cheeks and making his eyes water. Every step was a desperate gamble as he dodged through the flowing crowd, limbs flailing to avoid collision.
Why? Why? WHY!? He screamed in his head, veering sharply, barely slipping past a hovering vehicle.
But then the world began to shift. His vision blurred at the edges, colors bleeding together like spilled neon paint. Shapes wavered and twisted, the sharp outlines of the crowd melting into hazy smears. His limbs felt heavy, sluggish, slow despite his frantic pounding heart.
Not yet! He thought, clenching his jaw as he pushed forward, willing his body to fight the creeping exhaustion.
A delivery drone appeared suddenly before his face. His twisted vision made it hard to see it coming.
He quickly ducked below to avoid collision. His left hand scraped hard against the rough pavement as he twisted under the drone. Pain flared as a sharp sting shot through his palm. He looked down and saw a jagged tear in his black glove, a small chunk ripped off where the gritty asphalt had shredded it.
For a fleeting moment, Vlad's blurred vision steadied. The world snapped back into sharper focus. The harsh lines of the street, the flickering neon signs, the faces of the crowd rushing past. All crystal clear, almost cruelly so.
His palm throbbed fiercely where it had scraped the pavement, the sting sharp and burning. But beneath the pain, something strange happened: the ache seemed to anchor him, steadying the dizzy fog creeping into his mind.
The pain's delaying the symptoms, he thought grimly, gripping the torn glove tighter. It was like a twisted lifeline, keeping the worst at bay just long enough for him to keep moving.
He whipped a sharp left at the intersection, adrenaline sharpening his focus despite the haze clawing at his mind.
Brother! he yelled in his head, the word pounding through his chest like a desperate prayer.
A woman suddenly stepped into his path, her holo-screen glowing softly from her wrist. Vlad sidestepped swiftly, barely missing her as he pushed forward, muscles straining.
Brother! Listen to me! He screamed inwardly, the urgency ripping through the fog.
'Vlad? What's wrong? Why are you out of breath?' his brother's voice cut through the chaos in his mind, worry sharp in every syllable.
Tell me everything about the trial—when you get selected as a player candidate. Quick, Vlad gasped between breaths, but make sure to tell me everything! He kept running, eyes desperate and wide.
'You don't have the authority yet. You'll just be in agony if you hear things now,' his brother warned, voice tense but steady.
Vlad's vision flickered and blurred again, colors melting at the edges. He squeezed his injured left hand tightly, teeth clenched through the pain.
I have the authority now. Just spill everything you can!
'What? What do you...' his brother's voice echoed sharply in Vlad's mind, edged with confusion and rising fear.
I got selected, Vlad snapped, the words firing off in his head like a flare as he sprinted through a group of kids playing. A ball the size of his head came flying at him, he ducked instinctively. And I'm about to enter the trial!
For a heartbeat, silence filled the telepathic link, as if his brother had frozen in place.
'What the hell are you saying?!' The reply finally surged back, wild and disbelieving. 'How is that even possible? Your AMS absorption is only at 41.'
I don't know what's going on either! Vlad fired back, twisting his body to avoid a crowd at a corner, the heat of their curiosity brushing against his senses. So just... he stumbled, caught himself, pain flaring in his palm as he clenched the torn glove tighter ...just tell me.
Vlad took a sharp right, his boots ground against the turn as he bolted through a large iron gate and onto a quieter street. The noise of the commercial area faded behind him, replaced by a strange stillness.
Without the neck-bending skyscrapers and dense crowds of people and structures to block it, the cold wind came from everywhere, cutting through the open streets, curling around corners, slipping under his clothes like fingers made of ice.
Large houses and mansions loomed into view. Two, sometimes three stories tall. They were spaced wide apart, set behind low walls barely waist-high, the kind you could vault over in a single leap if you had to. Some homes had smart-gated driveways or passive security fields shimmering faintly in the light, but others seemed completely open.
Around them, the space was almost excessive. Meticulously designed gardens spilled out in symmetrical patterns, dotted with trees and ponds. Some yards had pools, while others stretched into private playgrounds or open green spaces–clearly meant for children.
Vlad felt a flicker of relief at the familiar streets of his own neighborhood. But that comfort sat strangely distant, like a memory he couldn't touch, hollowed out by the panic still tearing through him.
'Okay,' his brother's voice finally came through again, strained but clearer. 'I'll try to make the penalty as little as possible…'
Vlad clenched his jaw and kept running.
'When it starts, you'll feel like your consciousness is fading, drifting.' his brother said, his mental voice steadier now, 'And when you finally succumb… you'll be transported to a scenario created entirely inside your head.'
Vlad clenched his injured left hand, feeling the raw sting ground him. Just my mind will be affected, right? My body… will stay here?
'Yes,' his brother confirmed. 'But if you die in the trial you will die in reality as well…'
I know.
'...The game builds a completely separate place in your head. An environment crafted around you. Your task will be to complete an objective to finish the trial.'
Vlad slowed just slightly, feet still pounding the pavement as the quiet streets of his own neighborhood stretched around him.
What objective?
'Every trial's environment and every objective is different for each person,' his brother answered grimly. 'You have to figure it out as you go along.'
Vlad's vision pulsed. Bright, then dark, then bright again.
His legs buckled beneath him without warning. He staggered forward a few steps, then fell hard onto the road, his palms scraping against the coarse surface. For a moment, the world tilted sideways, and a dull ringing filled his ears.
"Vlad, are you okay!?" a voice called. Familiar, and close.
His heart skipped. He gritted his teeth, forcing his body to move through the pain, through the confusion.
"I'm okay!" he shouted, running. His breath ragged, not looking back. "I'm okay!"
Just go on. Vlad winced, forcing himself upright again, his legs trembling. I'm near the house.
'You're outside and the trial began? What if you faceplant in the middle of the road or something?'
I was just about to do that... He thought.
Thankfully the two of them could choose which thoughts the other could hear.
Don't waste time! Vlad changed the topic to the more serious matter.
'Don't worry too much,' his brother said, trying to sound calm but not quite pulling it off. 'The trials are set up in a way that you can get through them. Even if it's extremely difficult. There's always a way. Just find it as quickly as possible.'
Vlad barely caught the last word before his body veered too hard left. His shoulder slammed into cold metal as he nearly crashed into the side of the gate.
"Shit!" he hissed, stumbling back. His thumb hit the scanner panel beside the gate, but the system pulsed red with a flat denial tone.
"Come on, come on."
He tore the black glove from his right hand with his teeth and slammed his bare thumb back down, the cold biting into his skin like ice-tipped needles. This time, the panel flashed green. The gate gave a soft hydraulic hiss and slid open.
'Be paranoid of anything and everything in there Vlad,' his brother said with a firm tone. 'Anything you don't have any knowledge about is something that will kill you.'
Vlad darted through. Behind him, the door closed with a barely audible click.
Anything else? Like you're not forgetting something, are you?
'The rest I can tell, you already know,' his brother's voice came through, low and steady. 'Finish the trial and you'll be granted mystical powers like us. The Players.'
Vlad's boots struck the granite path below that stretched ahead, with rapid, dull thuds. His breath came hot and fast, misting faintly in the cooler air that clung to the stone surface.
The large two-story mansion loomed just ahead. Tall windows stared blankly down, and soft security lights cast long, pale arcs over the front lawn.
He sprinted toward the mansion's large front door made of brown wood and a small glass scanner beside it. He didn't hesitate.
He slammed his bare right thumb onto the fingerprint reader again. This time the scanner blinked green with a soft chirp immediately.
He pushed the gate open and ran in. The gate clicked shut behind him. Inside, heated air brushed his face. Clean, dimly lit. Familiar.
'That's all I can tell you without the penalty kicking in.' His brother said with a tone of worry.
His vision was pulsing again. White, then black, then white. He barely registered the polished flooring beneath his boots as he made for the staircase.
One step.
Two.
By the third, his knees buckled.
His shoulder slammed into the wall with a thud, and he nearly pitched backward. The world tilted dangerously as his body swayed.
Shit!
His fingers snapped out, blindly groping for the railing, and caught it just in time. The cold metal bit into his palm, grounding him for a heartbeat.
I'm... I'm inside the house now, Vlad gritted, his. He pulled himself up the stairs, muscles trembling. I think I only have... a few more seconds...
'Find a comfortable spot and sit down,' his brother said instantly, voice low but urgent in his head.
Vlad reached the top of the stairs, legs shaking. He turned left down the hall, staggering slightly as the corridor seemed to stretch and twist before his eyes.
'I'm calling Charles. She'll be there soon.' his brother said, the words tight with concern.
Vlad nodded weakly, his thoughts too blurred to reply.
He reached his bedroom door. His fingers fumbled at the handle. He pushed it open.
The world blurred.
He barely made it through the threshold. He half stumbled, half fell forward. The room spun violently, but the bed was right there, a soft patch of white in the spinning world.
He collapsed forward.
His upper body hit the mattress with a muffled whump. His limbs gave out beneath him like stringless puppets.
A breath.
A heartbeat.
'Whatever you do…' his brother's voice echoed faintly, almost distorted now, like it was being pulled away by distance or gravity.
'Don't die.'
With those last words entering his head, Vlad lost consciousness.
Everything turned into a black void.
Amidst the darkness, a voice spoke in a language that he instinctively understood:
[Only the worthy shall become a Player. Your trial has begun…]