The world didn't end with fire or blood. It ended with silence. And nobody noticed.
I sure as hell didn't.
Funny, considering I notice everything. Not in some superhero "I see dead pixels in the Matrix" kind of way. More like—I see the cracks. In people. In walls. In voices. Doesn't help. Just makes it harder to pretend anything's fine.
People forget me. That's not self-pity. That's statistical. I talk, they nod, and a minute later it's like I never existed. Makes job interviews a bitch. Makes conversations… optional. You get used to it. After a while, you even start liking the idea that nobody remembers your name.
I'm Crispin David. Age? Late twenties. Body? Lean, functional, tired. Face? A mash-up of "used to smile" and "forgot why." I've got this mess of black hair that refuses to be tamed and eyes that people say look dead. I don't think they're dead. Just… tired of pretending to care.
Clothes? Layers. Not because I'm cold, but because armor doesn't have to be metal. Worn hoodie, gloves even when it's warm, steel-toe boots, messenger bag full of everything and nothing. Makes me look like I'm on my way to somewhere important. I'm not.
I was at the Southbridge government clinic again. Not for me. I stopped going for me a long time ago. I was picking up anxiety meds for someone I hadn't visited in over a year. Don't ask. I don't even know why I still do it.
Place was falling apart, like everything else in that part of the city. Yellow walls, buzzing lights, cheap disinfectant that did nothing to hide the rot underneath. I was parked in a chair that felt bolted to the seventh layer of hell, pretending to listen to music I didn't have playing. Old trick. People leave you alone if they think you can't hear them.
That's when I heard it.
A sound.
Low. Mechanical. Like a wire humming against a metal pipe. Vibrating just enough to be wrong. Faint, but wrong. Like the air had developed a pulse.
I took out my earphones. It was still there. Not in my head.
Left hallway. "Staff Only." Two flickering lights. One broken camera. Nobody watching. Nobody ever watching.
I stood up. Not curious. Just… compelled. Like when you see something in the road and know it's roadkill, but you look anyway.
That's when I saw the door.
It hadn't been there before. I'm sure of that.
Black steel. Seamless. No knob, no frame. Just a glowing red symbol in the center — not English, not Latin, not anything I could read. But looking at it made something shift behind my eyes. Like a string got plucked deep in my chest.
The air around it shimmered. Like heat waves on asphalt. Reality sweating. Maybe crying.
I should've walked away. I really should've.
Instead, I stepped closer.
My hand hovered inches from it when the symbol flared. Bright red. Sharp.
DING.
Like an elevator bell.
Then the door opened.
It didn't slide or creak. It just… wasn't closed anymore. Behind it: a narrow chamber. Glowing blue. Stone walls. The air felt colder, heavier, hungry.
Behind me, the hallway vanished.
No turning back.
I muttered, "Of course. Should've stayed in bed."
And I stepped in.
The staircase wound down forever.
Stone steps. Damp air. Blue light pulsing like a heartbeat through the walls. I counted turns. Twelve. Thirty. Fifty. Eventually I stopped counting. Didn't matter. Down was the only direction.
Then came the chamber.
Circular. Wide. Walls glowing faintly, like moonlight trapped in stone. In the center, a raised platform. And above it, floating in the air—text.
No screen. No device. Just words, suspended midair like someone ripped them out of a dream.
[Awakening Process Detected.]
Welcome, Candidate.
Begin Initial Assessment? [Y/N]
I stared.
"…You've gotta be kidding me."
No answer, of course. Just the floating text, blinking politely like some demonic customer service portal.
Maybe I was hallucinating. Wouldn't be the first time. But this felt different. Real. Tangible. The air here had weight, and something behind the walls was breathing slow and deep.
I raised one hand. Flipped it off.
Then said, "Yes."
The platform lit up.
My feet locked in place.
Then the pain hit.
It didn't hit my body. It hit my mind.
Like someone took a sledgehammer to my thoughts. Everything cracked open. Flooded in. Memories I didn't want. Images I'd buried so deep I forgot they were there.
The belt.
The pills.
The cold hospital chair.
The silence after the flatline.
The sound of dirt hitting a coffin lid.
The question no one asked me after that.
Then everything went quiet.
When I came to, the text had changed.
Assessment Complete.
Result: Non-Compatible.
Ranking: D-Class (Below Threshold).
Estimated Lifespan in Gate: < 2 minutes.
Termination Advised.
I barked a laugh. Not amused. Just… exhausted.
"Story of my life."
Then the floor rumbled.
Walls cracked. A slit opened in the far side of the chamber—like a mouth. And inside it, swirling black and red light. A portal. A gate. I didn't know what was in there.
But I did know what I wasn't.
I wasn't afraid.
I was angry.
If I was supposed to die in two minutes, fine.
Let the clock start now.