Life in the outskirts didn't end with a bang.
It just kept shrinking.
Roofs sagged. Stairwells smelled like rust and damp concrete. People didn't talk unless they needed something, and even then, they counted every word like it cost food.
Out here, survival wasn't dramatic.
It was quiet. Stubborn. Repetitive.
Roland understood that better than most.
He woke before sunrise on the bare concrete of an abandoned apartment unit, staring at the cracked ceiling while the cold slowly crept into his bones. No blanket. No heater. Just another morning where the only real achievement would be making it to nightfall.
He sat up, rubbed the stiffness out of his shoulders, and checked the small cloth bag beside him.
Half a bread roll.
A bent spoon.
A bottle with barely any water.
Good enough.
He exhaled slowly and got to his feet.
No point overthinking it. Today was just today.
He ran into Sunny near the ration stall.
Not by plan. Planning meant certainty, and certainty didn't exist in the outskirts.
Sunny leaned against the chipped wall nearby, arms folded, watching the crowd with that same guarded, calculating stare. Like he expected the world to cheat and was already looking for the trick.
Roland stepped beside him and nodded once.
"You beat me here."
Sunny shrugged. "Line's shorter early."
"Fair."
They stood in silence for a moment. That was normal. People in the outskirts didn't waste energy pretending to be cheerful.
Sunny glanced sideways.
"You eat yet?"
Roland lifted the small cloth bag slightly.
"Working on it."
Sunny snorted softly, reached into his pocket, and tossed over a wrapped piece of something vaguely edible. Some leftover synth paste.
Roland caught it. "…You sure?"
"Eat," Sunny said. "Or don't."
Roland ate.
Out here, refusing food was just another way to die.
"Tch, taste as bad as ever."
After a while, Roland said quietly,
"…You ever think about when the Spell's gonna pick you?"
Sunny's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.
"…Not something you can plan for," he said. "Best thing is not panicking when it happens."
Roland nodded once.
Sounded about right.
It happened that afternoon.
No thunder. No lights. No dramatic warning.
Just a calm, impossible voice inside his head.
[You have been chosen.]
Roland stopped walking mid-step.
"…Well, shit." he breathed quietly.
There it was.
He stood there for a few seconds, letting the reality settle. Fear was there — of course it was — but fear didn't really change the situation.
He turned toward the city center.
Guess he'd better report in.
The police station waiting room was chaos.
Families crying. Officials shouting instructions. Medics rushing around like paperwork could somehow help.
Roland stepped inside quietly.
And spotted Sunny sitting against the far wall.
"…You too?"
Sunny looked up, expression sharpening.
"…Yeah. I actually have been infected for a round a week I guess. You?"
Roland dropped into the chair beside him.
"Looks like it."
Sunny studied him for a moment, as if measuring how close he was to losing it.
"…You freaking out?"
Roland thought about it honestly.
"…Not really," he said. Then, after a small pause, added with a faint shrug,
"This is this. That is that."
Sunny frowned slightly, like he wasn't sure if that was calm acceptance or just fatalism. But he didn't argue.
"…Don't rush," Sunny said after a moment. "First thing inside, people panic. That's what kills them."
"Good tip."
An officer passed carrying a tray stacked with wrapped sandwiches for the Nightmare candidates.
Roland watched the tray.
Raised a hand.
"Hey, officer?"
The man stopped. "Yeah?"
"…Can I get one of those?"
"…You're about to enter a lethal supernatural trial and you want a sandwich."
Roland shrugged lightly.
"Hey, can't fight on an empty stomach. If I'm gonna die anyway, at least I'll die with a full stomach."
A couple nervous laughs sounded nearby.
The officer stared at him, sighed, and tossed him one.
Roland caught it. "Thanks."
He unwrapped it and took a bite, chewing slowly.
"…Honestly? Worth it"
Sunny stared at the sandwich for a second.
Then slowly raised his own hand.
"…Got any coffee?"
The officer blinked. "Coffee."
"…Yeah."
"…You want coffee before a Nightmare."
Sunny folded his arms. "If I'm about to risk my life, I'd prefer not to be half-asleep."
The officer muttered something under his breath, disappeared briefly, then returned with a cheap paper cup.
Sunny accepted it. "…Thanks."
He took a sip.
"…Terrible. Really bitter. There goes my taste bud I guess"
Roland smirked faintly.
"You say that but you're still drinking it."
"Can't waste free stuff. Might as well finish it. "
They sat in silence for a moment.
Two outskirts kids.
One with a police-station sandwich.
One with terrible coffee.
Both about to disappear into something most people never came back from.
Sunny spoke first, voice lower now.
"…Try to stay alive in there."
Roland leaned back, closing his eyes.
"Yeah," he said quietly. "I'll try."
The world began to stretch.
Sounds warped. Colors dimmed. The air itself felt like it was folding inward.
Roland exhaled once.
Whatever came next… came next.
Darkness swallowed everything.
And the Nightmare began.