Three years had passed since that day when the System first revealed itself to Ethan Solis. Time had worn him down in ways no one could see. He had grown older, yes, but also more distant, more fragmented. Now, at the cusp of turning 20, Ethan stood in the dimly lit room of his family's home, looking as though the weight of the world had already crushed him. His once-short blonde hair had grown longer, now hanging past his shoulders, though he had tied it back in a messy knot. It was the first sign of change in him that anyone might notice, but it was no longer a youthful sign of rebellion—it was a symbol of someone who had been worn down by the weight of their own existence, their own secrets.
The boy who had once stood at the window, gazing out at a world full of possibilities, now looked tired—tired of fighting the constant battle between what he was capable of and what he could never show. The boy who had carried the burden of the Observer class, who had hidden his power from those he loved, now faced something much darker—something that no amount of speed or observation could outrun.
It was 10 minutes before his birthday. 10 minutes before the system would trigger, as it always did, when a person reached the age of 20, and he would be sent away—teleported to the alien world where his abilities would be tested, and where new monsters and trials would await him. People from around the world who shared the same birthday as him would join him in that strange new world, but in his heart, he knew the truth: He wouldn't be alone in body, but he would be alone in every other sense.
Even if there were others there, others with their own powers and systems, Ethan would remain alone. Because he knew that no one would understand him—not truly. He had always kept his secrets so close to his chest, hiding his true power from even those who might have cared about him. There was no one he could trust—not even his own family. His mother had always known something was different about him, but she never pushed. She had always cared for him, but she also knew that there were parts of him she would never touch, never fully understand. His sister had never spoken to him like an equal, never saw him as anything but a disappointment. And his father—well, his father had been too focused on his own victories to notice Ethan at all.
So, as he stood there, waiting for the countdown to tick away, Ethan could feel the weight of it all. The power within him—the pain, the burn that came with using his Flash Step—the loneliness of it. There was no one who could understand the depth of his burden, no one who could comprehend the cost of what he carried. The System had chosen him for a path no one else could walk, and as his body grew heavier, as the cold realization set in, he knew that no amount of teleporting, no amount of crossing alien worlds, could ever change the fact that he would always be alone.
In 10 minutes, everything would change, and yet, nothing would. He'd still carry his secrets. He'd still feel the burn of every Flash Step, the weight of his class, the scars that ran deeper than any wound could ever show. He'd still be Ethan Solis, the boy who was more than human but less than what his family had wanted.
The countdown ticked away, the seconds slipping by like water through his fingers.
The moment Ethan was teleported, everything changed. The instant the world folded around him, he felt warmth—deep, visceral, and unexpected. It wasn't the kind of warmth one would expect from a sun beating down on them or the heat of a fire. It was more profound, as though the very air wrapped itself around him like a blanket, soothing the cold that had long resided in his chest. He felt... happy, in a way he hadn't felt in years. But it wasn't joy; it wasn't the giddy rush of excitement that would've come with an adventure. It was comfort, something rare in his life. It was the sort of peace that only came when the burden of the world—of the System, of his family, of his endless secrets—was momentarily set aside.
But when his eyes opened, there was nothing to see. No light. No darkness. Just... nothing. It was as if the world had wiped away every trace of contrast, leaving him adrift in a space where sight couldn't grasp anything tangible. For a split second, he wondered if the System had failed him. Was this another trick? A momentary lapse before the pain returned? But no. The warmth remained, a steady pulse beneath the surface, wrapping him in its quiet embrace.
The world around him began to form—slowly at first, like a faded painting coming into sharp focus. The air was thick, heavy with moisture, and he could feel the humidity cling to his skin. But it wasn't just rain—it was red. The raindrops fell in slow motion, almost languidly, as if each drop was its own entity, pulsing with some strange energy before they splattered onto the ground. The sight of the red rain was disorienting, foreign in a way that made his instincts tingle with unease. Nothing about it felt right, and yet, he couldn't look away.
He breathed deeply, the air tasting faintly metallic.
As the world solidified, his eyes adjusted to the strange environment around him. He was no longer in the comfort of his home, or even in the familiar world he knew. He stood on a barren, cracked ground that seemed to stretch on forever in every direction. The horizon was broken, the sky an unnatural hue, the rain falling relentlessly. Despite the humidity, the heat of the place felt almost suffocating. His throat tightened. Was this the new world? The alien world that had been promised?
Ethan's mind scrambled for answers. But then, his eyes caught something else—something that shook him from his thoughts.
There were people. Twenty-three, to be exact. The System had counted them, just as it always did. He could feel their presence, could sense the slight flicker of their powers, their own Systems humming softly in the background.
Some looked lost, some looked confused, but there were a few who stood tall—like they had seen this world before, like they had known it was coming. His gaze immediately locked on a group of three. A boy and two girls. They stood together, a cohesive unit, a strong presence among the others. Their powers radiated. It wasn't just a casual aura of power; it was something intense, something that made his own abilities seem almost insignificant in comparison.
The boy in the center was tall, broad-shouldered, and wore an expression of quiet confidence that immediately set him apart. His eyes were sharp, calculating—he was no stranger to this world. The two girls beside him were equally striking. One was tall and slender, with a determined gaze that spoke of experience. The other was slightly shorter but carried an intensity that rivaled her companions. Together, they exuded a power that Ethan sensed but couldn't fully define. It was a combination of grace, strength, and something more, something that felt... alive.
His Observer abilities sparked to life as he took them in. He could feel their levels, the numbers above their heads floating like faint whispers just out of reach—Lv. 9 for the boy, and something close for the two girls. But they didn't feel like the usual kind. There was something else about them, something that made Ethan uneasy, but he couldn't place it. They were a step beyond, a presence in this new world that could easily turn the tide of any battle.
Ethan took a careful step back, unsure whether to approach or stay hidden. He could tell already that these people were not like the others. He didn't know if they had been here before or if they were as lost as the rest of them, but he knew one thing for certain: these three were dangerous. In a way that felt purposeful, calculated, and perhaps even... predatory.
He took another step back, keeping his distance, but couldn't help but wonder—could they sense him too? Could they see the Observer class hovering around him like a mark, an undeniable sign of something different, something they might want to control, to test? His stomach churned with the weight of that question.
For the first time, Ethan wasn't sure who was the hunter and who was the hunted.
The quiet hum of the world around them was suddenly broken by a sharp, mechanical voice. It was the Darkness, and it spoke with a cold, distant authority, just as it always did when the trials began.
DARKNESS MESSAGE:
Mission 1: Reach the Lighthouse and Slay the Beast. Successful completion will grant six special abilities to those who succeed. Those who fail, or do not participate, will return empty-handed or dead. The mission will begin in 24 hours. Form teams. Time is limited.
The words echoed in the air, and for a moment, there was silence—a brief stillness that hung heavy over the group. The reality of what had been said settled like a weight on each of them. Ethan's heart skipped a beat. Six special abilities. That was no small reward. The thought of gaining something beyond what he already had—something that would make him even stronger, more alive—flashed in his mind. And yet, there was something else that gnawed at him. The part about failure. The part about death. This world wasn't just another trial—it was real.
As if on cue, the crowd began to stir, people whispering among themselves, eyes darting from person to person, each of them considering their options. The Darkness had set them on a path, and now they had to decide: face the beast together, or fall into chaos and desperation.
The atmosphere thickened with tension as some began to form teams, as if the weight of the mission had unlocked something within them—a primal instinct to survive, to unite or fight. Others hesitated, unsure. Ethan kept his distance, watching, unsure of who to approach, or if he should even trust anyone. He could feel his own unease creeping up his spine.
And then, a voice cut through the murmur of the crowd, commanding attention with a presence that was impossible to ignore.
The tall girl, the one who had caught Ethan's eye earlier, spoke.
She was beautiful in a way that made you feel like she could be both angel and warrior, the grace of her presence masking the lethal energy that hummed just beneath the surface. Her long, flowing hair—dark, almost black—caught the red rain, shimmering like strands of obsidian. Her eyes, sharp and calculating, swept over the crowd, and as she opened her mouth to speak, there was no question that everyone would listen.
Her voice was clear, powerful, but tempered with something... knowing. It wasn't the voice of someone who sought attention. It was the voice of someone who commanded it.
"Listen up."
The words were simple, but they cut through the noise like a blade. People turned, immediately quieting down, eyes fixed on her. Even the distant murmurs of those unsure of their next steps ceased as they watched her, waiting.
"We're not here to waste time." Her gaze scanned the crowd again, the weight of her words hanging in the air. "We need to move quickly. The mission is simple: get to the lighthouse, slay the beast, and earn what we deserve. But there's no time for hesitation. This isn't some trial you can fail and walk away from. This is the real thing. You either succeed, or you die trying."
Her eyes locked onto a few faces in the crowd, and for a brief moment, Ethan felt as though she was looking directly at him. Something in her gaze felt… different. As if she could see through the surface of everyone, judging, weighing them. It unsettled him, but at the same time, there was a strange pull, a magnetic force that made him want to listen.
She continued, her voice unwavering. "I'm forming a team. If you're smart, you'll join me. The others... they're going to be distractions. We don't have time for distractions. So, if you want to live—if you want those abilities—join us. I'll lead the way. Follow, or be left behind. It's that simple."
The crowd seemed to freeze at her words, as if the space between her and the others had suddenly stretched impossibly wide. She wasn't asking. She was declaring. And in the silence that followed, it became clear that the decision to follow her wasn't one to be taken lightly.
Ethan watched as people began to move, some reluctantly heading toward her, others in eager anticipation. She was powerful, no doubt. But there was something cold in the way she spoke, a sharpness that made him question how far she was willing to go to achieve her goals.
The tall girl didn't seem to care for hesitation. She knew what she wanted, and she expected others to fall in line.
Ethan felt the weight of the decision press on him. His heart was racing, and his thoughts spiraled. Was she the right choice? Could he trust someone like her? Could he even trust himself in this strange new world?
A deep breath left his lips, and he found himself slowly moving forward, his steps tentative, but inevitable. He didn't know if he was making the right choice, but one thing was clear: he wasn't going to stand by and let fate dictate everything. Not this time.
As he approached her, his eyes met hers once again, and he saw a flicker of something—a knowing, maybe, or perhaps just the sharpness of calculation. He didn't know what she saw in him, but it was clear she wasn't looking for weaknesses. She was looking for strength, and she would find it—whether he was ready for it or not.
The red rain continued to fall, but the air felt heavier now. Ethan was no longer just a boy with secrets. He was about to take his first step into a world where power wasn't given freely, where survival wasn't guaranteed. And no matter what came next, he knew one thing for sure: in this place, the cost of failure was far greater than he could ever have imagined.
As the murmur of the crowd began to die down, the boy—who had stood silently until now—stepped forward with a confident yet disarming smile. He was tall, with an athletic build, his eyes scanning the group as if he were already sizing them up. There was a certain ease to his demeanor, an unspoken command that drew the attention of everyone around him.
"Alright, everyone," he said, his voice smooth but with a strength that made it impossible to ignore. "Let's get to know each other. Name, skills, what can you do? We're going to need every bit of help we can get if we're going to make it through this."
The words were simple, but they carried an undeniable weight. He spoke as if he were already leading this group, and from the way everyone turned to look at him, it was clear that his presence alone commanded respect.
Ethan watched as the others began to speak, introducing themselves and revealing their abilities. Some had obvious talents: strength, speed, elemental control. But what caught Ethan's attention, what made him feel a slight shift in the air, was the short girl standing at the back of the group. She was small, but there was something captivating about her—a beauty that was almost impossible to describe, like she was both cute and pretty, delicate and fierce in one breath. Her hair was a soft shade of auburn, framing her face in gentle waves, and her eyes were bright with a spark of curiosity, unafraid of the unknown.
Ethan found himself staring at her for a moment, unable to tear his gaze away. She wasn't like the others. There was something more, something... alive in her energy. But just as he caught himself, she turned and met his gaze.
For a split second, time seemed to stop. Her eyes locked with his, and Ethan felt an unfamiliar sensation twist in his chest—like he was being seen, as if she was looking right through him. It wasn't judgment, but something else, something that sent a ripple of discomfort through him. His heart skipped, and for a moment, he almost lost his composure, feeling like he'd been caught in some silent understanding that wasn't supposed to exist.
Before he could fully regain his footing, the boy who had asked the question was turning back to face the group. The others were already talking, but Ethan's mind was still a little lost in the brief moment with the girl.
It was his turn now.
The boy's eyes were waiting expectantly. Ethan knew this was his chance to be part of the group, to blend in, to say something that wouldn't draw attention. So he did what he always did best—he lied.
"I'm Ethan," he said, his voice steady but casual. "I don't have any special skills, just… uh, a sword. I've used it a little. Not a great fighter, though." He let the words fall flat, adding just the right amount of self-deprecation to make it sound believable. It was the perfect cover—no one would suspect the truth. He was, after all, just some kid who was barely scraping by.
The lie felt strange, like wearing a mask that didn't quite fit, but it was necessary. No one could know what he could really do—not here, not now. If they did, they would see him as a target, a prize to be hunted. Or worse, someone to be controlled.
His eyes flicked briefly to the girl again, but she had already turned back to the others, her attention elsewhere, her expression unreadable. Ethan couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to her than met the eye. But it wasn't the right time to worry about that. Not yet.
The boy nodded, accepting Ethan's answer without pressing further. "Alright," he said, his eyes scanning the group once more. "A sword, huh? We might need that. Anyone else?"
Ethan's words hung in the air for just a moment, but they were already fading into the background as others began to speak up. And despite his careful lies, the weight of his own truth gnawed at him. How long could he keep it up? How long could he pretend to be nothing more than a boy with a sword, when what he really was—what the Darkness had made him—was far more dangerous than anyone could imagine?
For now, though, he kept his gaze on the ground, willing himself not to look back at the short girl who had caught his attention. Because if he did, he knew he might lose his focus. And in this place, losing focus could mean losing everything.
The boy, John, stepped forward next with an air of quiet authority. He wasn't one to waste time with pleasantries. His posture was upright, his body tensed with the readiness of someone who knew exactly what they were capable of.
"John," he said simply, his voice strong, with a firm tone that left no room for doubt. "I'm a warrior. I can wield any weapon, and I've trained my body to be as much of a weapon as the tools I carry. I'm not limited to one thing. Whatever's at my disposal, I can use it."
There was no bragging in his words—just a clear statement of fact. Ethan could see it in his eyes, the kind of confidence that came from knowing your strength without needing to prove it to anyone. There was power in the way John moved, in the way his presence filled the space around him.
Next, the tall girl, Luna, caught everyone's attention. She stood apart, a faint air of mystery hanging about her, and when her turn came, she only offered her name. She didn't elaborate, didn't speak of her abilities. She didn't need to. The way she carried herself, the way her gaze swept over the group, it was as if the others' skills were of little consequence to her. Her silence was its own declaration.
"I'm Luna," she said, her voice low but piercing, like the calm before a storm. She didn't offer anything more, her eyes remaining fixed on the horizon, as if she were already planning her next move.
There was a shift in the air when she spoke. No one questioned her. Her presence alone seemed to say that whatever skills she had, they were far beyond anything anyone else could comprehend. Ethan didn't dare press her for details. He could feel her power in the way she held herself. And he knew, deep down, she didn't need to reveal anything more for them to understand the threat she posed.
Then came the short girl, Evelyn. She was last to speak, but when she did, it was with a quiet confidence that bordered on arrogance.
"My name's Evelyn," she said, offering a soft smile, her voice clear but laced with something almost... mischievous. "I can use fire magic."
The words felt out of place in the moment, like a sudden spark in an otherwise cold room. The group murmured their approval—fire magic was always a sought-after skill. But Ethan, who had been watching her more closely than most, saw through it immediately.
He could see the subtle tremble in her hands, the way her eyes flickered nervously as she spoke. The smile didn't reach her eyes. It wasn't the usual ease of someone who wielded their powers without thought. No, Evelyn wasn't telling the truth.
Ethan had always had a way of sensing things, seeing through the cracks where others couldn't. And right now, he saw through hers. He knew that Evelyn didn't control fire—she was lying. The way her pulse quickened, the way her breath hitched ever so slightly, it was clear to him.
Why was she lying? What was she hiding? Ethan couldn't tell yet, but he was sure of one thing—whatever the truth was, it wasn't fire magic.
He glanced around, noting the others' reactions. Some had bought it, nodding in approval, while others seemed less convinced. But none of them were as sure as Ethan was. He couldn't help but feel a twinge of curiosity. He would need to keep an eye on Evelyn—there was something about her that didn't add up.
The group went silent for a moment, the weight of each introduction settling in. Each person here had their own secrets, their own truths carefully guarded, but in this place, surrounded by danger and uncertainty, those secrets could mean the difference between survival and death.
John had already proven himself as a warrior, Luna was an enigma, and Evelyn's fire magic... well, that was a mystery in itself.
As the introductions came to a close, Ethan felt a strange mix of tension and anticipation. He was still trying to navigate this strange world, trying to figure out who he could trust. There was a lot to uncover here—and not just about the mission, but about the people around him.
But one thing was certain: the truth was more elusive than it appeared, and in this place, lies could be as dangerous as the beasts lurking in the shadows.
Ethan exhaled softly, shifting his gaze back to the horizon, where the lighthouse loomed in the distance, shrouded in mist and mystery. His heart beat a little faster. The mission had only just begun, and already, he knew things wouldn't be as simple as they seemed.