Nolan woke up choking on air.
Not gasping scraping, like his lungs had forgotten how breathing worked and were relearning it badly.
He rolled onto his side, retching dryly against the cold stone. The alley was still there. Cracked walls. Trash piled like barricades. The same beggars' blankets except the beggars themselves were gone.
No blood.
No bodies.
Just absence.
His head throbbed.
Did I die?
The thought came lazily, without panic. If this was death, it felt disappointing.
He pushed himself upright. His limbs responded slowly, like they were being approved one at a time.
The Dusk was gone.
Morning light crept into the alley, pale and thin, touching nothing for long.
No sirens.
No guards.
No Interface messages.
Nolan exhaled.
Whatever had happened last night it hadn't turned him into something obvious.
That was good.
He stood.
Then stopped.
Something was wrong.
The alley felt… quiet in a way he wasn't used to.
Not safe.
Muted.
Like the world had wrapped itself in cloth.
Nolan frowned and focused.
Nothing answered.
No power. No control. No strange sensation he could call an ability.
Just himself.
"Figures," he muttered.
He stepped toward the alley entrance.
A man walked past the opening a guard by the look of the uniform. Nolan raised a hand instinctively.
The man didn't look back.
Didn't slow.
Didn't even twitch.Nolan froze
He stepped closer.
"Hey," he said.
The word felt heavier than it should have.
Still no response.
The guard continued walking, eyes sliding past Nolan like he was looking through warped glass.
Nolan's stomach tightened.
He tried again.
This time with a beggar further down the street. An old woman digging through refuse.
"Miss?"
She flinched then frowned, scanning around herself.
Her eyes passed over Nolan twice.
Then she shook her head and went back to digging.
Nolan slowly lowered his hand.
"…Right," he said quietly.
He wasn't invisible.
He could see himself.
He cast a shadow.
But the world… didn't seem interested in keeping track of him.
A chill crept up his spine.
---
> [STATUS CHECK — PARTIAL]
Classification: Touched
Gate Access: 0
Active Manifestations: Locked
The text appeared faintly, like it didn't want to be there.
> Passive Effects: Unstable Integration
Nolan stared at the empty air.
Touched.
Not Awakened.
Not special.
Just… brushed by something that hadn't decided what to do with him yet.
As he walked, things began to make sense.
People forgot him mid-glance.
A merchant asked him to move then blinked and apologized to empty space.
A street terminal flickered when he stepped too close, freezing before rebooting entirely.
Nobody chased him.
Nobody helped him.
Nobody noticed when he stood too close.He stopped at a cracked mirror nailed to a wall.
His reflection stared back.
Same tired eyes.
Same hollow cheeks.
But something behind them felt… looser.l
As if the world had relaxed its grip.
By midday, hunger gnawed at him.
He tried to buy food.
The vendor took the ration card from his hand , then frowned.
"Where did this come from?" the man asked.
Nolan opened his mouth to answer.
The vendor blinked.
"…Huh. Weird," he muttered, tossing the card aside. "Must've slipped."
The food stayed on the counter.
Nolan stared at it.
Then slowly backed away.So that was it.
No powers.
No Gate.
Just a life where the world increasingly failed to acknowledge he existed.
A laugh bubbled up in his chest.
Dry.
Tired.
"Guess I got what I wished for," he said softly.
As the sun dipped lower, something tugged at him.
A pull.
Subtle.
Not fear.
Not danger.
Loss.
Somewhere nearby, something meaningful had ended.
Nolan turned toward it without thinking.
The Hollow inside him stirred.
Not awake.
But listening.