Arya's eyes fluttered open, her head throbbing with a dull ache. The first thing she noticed was the sound — a low, resonant hum that seemed to vibrate through her bones, like the heartbeat of some colossal machine. She blinked, her vision slowly adjusting to the dim light.
The ground beneath her was cold and smooth, its surface reflecting the shifting colors of the sky above — like an Aurora Borealis looking sky. She pushed herself up, her fingers brushing against something metallic and unfamiliar on the back of her neck. A chill ran down her spine as she realized she wasn't in their house anymore.
"Daniel?" she called, her voice echoing strangely in the vast emptiness. There was no response, only the eerie hum and the faint rustle of wind—or something like wind—across the obsidian ground.
Her heart pounded as she scanned the horizon, her mind racing. "This can't be real," she muttered, her voice trembling. "It's just a dream. It has to be."
But the cold surface beneath her hands felt all too real. She clenched her fists, forcing herself to breathe. 'Think, Arya. Think.'
Suddenly, a strange symbol floated into her vision, projected directly from her eyes, almost like a hologram, a screen. She blinked to see if this was all just a hallucination from what had happened, but it was still there. Words she didn't understand flickered and rearranged themselves until they formed a single, chilling message in a language she could comprehend:
[Welcome to the System, Survivors.]
"System? Survivors?" she whispered, a chill running down her spine. "There are others?"
The same thing that appeared on Zack's screen, appeared on hers. The first trial is going to start in a minute. Arya was flusterred, unable to talk and comprehend what was happening.
Then, she looked around the place. She was still in Northwood, but not the Northwood she remembers.
A glowing timer appeared above the sky. It's a countdown.
[00:30:00…00:29:59…00:29:58…]
Arya's gaze darted around. She heard someone screaming from a distance. Maybe it was one of the survivors. She hesitated to run. She thought, was it another survivor or a trap? Her instincts screamed at her to stay still, to wait.
But then, she saw someone, a human figure. She didn't hesitate; she ran towards him. Finally, the man was only a few feet away from her.
They locked eyes for a moment, a silent understanding between them.
"You alright?" he asked, his voice rough from the tension.
"I think so," she replied, her voice shaky, though she still managed a small nod. "And you?"
"yeah, I think so," he muttered. "But it looks like we're both stuck in this mess."
Before they could exchange another word, a scream rang out again, loud and desperate. Both of them turned sharply toward the source of the sound.
"It's coming from over there," Arya said, pointing to the edge of the clearing, her eyes scanning the place.
"Let's go," he urged, his determination rising. He moved toward the scream without hesitation.
Arya followed closely behind, matching his pace.
As they drew closer, they saw a figure in the distance—a man, possibly in his early thirties, standing with his arms raised, shouting into the sky.
—
"What kind of sick game is this?" Jake muttered. "Hey!!! Whoever is listening, I don't want to be a part of this!!!" he yelled at the top of his lungs.
He bent forward with his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath.
But something was wrong. The air smelled different. It wasn't thick with smoke and blood.
The last thing he remembered was a sharp ringing in his ears.
A battlefield, a war zone.
His hands, gripping a sniper rifle. His squad, running. Explosions, streaks of fire in the sky—
Then, the memories crashed into him all at once.
—
The constant roar of gunfire was deafening. Dust and smoke filled the air, blurring the already barren landscape.
Jake crouched behind a crumbling wall, his heart hammering in his chest. Another mortar shell exploded nearby, shaking the ground beneath him. He gripped his sniper rifle tighter, every nerve on high alert. This was his reality now: a relentless cycle of fear, adrenaline, and exhaustion.
But tucked inside his pocket, close to his heart, was a small, worn photograph. He pulled it out, his thumb gently tracing his wife's smiling face and his daughter's bright eyes. It was a snapshot of a life that felt impossibly distant, a life he desperately wanted to come home to.
A wave of horrific memories crashed over him. He saw his fellow soldiers bleeding, their faces marked by gunshot wounds. The enemy was dragging someone away, their eyes wide with terror.
He saw Sergeant Major Diaz, his mentor, lying motionless in the dirt, a dark stain spreading across his back.
He saw young Private Rossi, fresh out of training, his leg twisted at an unnatural angle, crying out for his mother. He saw the enemy soldiers, their faces cold and hard, their weapons aimed at his colleagues. These images were a stark reminder of the danger, a chilling glimpse of what awaited him if he failed. He quickly shoved the photo back into his pocket, his hand trembling slightly.
He had to stay focused. He was their marksman, their overwatch. He had to protect them, even from afar.
He brought his sniper rifle, a Sako TRG 22 A1, to his shoulder, carefully adjusting the scope. His breath slowed, becoming steady despite the surrounding chaos. He found his target: an enemy soldier positioned behind a heavy machine gun, preventing his squad from advancing. He carefully lined up the shot, his finger gently tightening on the trigger. The world narrowed to the view through the scope's crosshairs. Breathe in… breathe out… hold steady.
The rifle cracked the recoil, a sharp jolt against his shoulder. Through the scope, he saw the enemy soldier slump forward, his head falling against the machine gun. For a brief, silent moment, the gunfire stopped. Then, he heard the sounds of his squad moving forward. He had created an opening for them.
Apart from that, he saw faint streaks of light cutting through the clouds above, not far from their location…"rocks falling? Maybe a meteor shower? No, it moved differently and faster; but it was definitely not a mortar," he muttered to himself. He brushed it off and focused on his sniper's scope.
But as he scanned the area, he saw something that made his blood run cold: a group of enemy soldiers emerging from a hidden bunker, their RPGs aimed directly at his squad. He had to warn them.
He grabbed his radio, his voice urgent. "Squad, incoming RPGs! Take cover!"
A loud explosion shook the ground. Jake felt a sharp sting in his leg and a ringing in his ears, but he was alive. He scrambled to his feet, adrenaline overriding the pain.
He saw the enemy soldiers pouring out of the bunker, their RPG launchers still smoking. He had to act fast. "Marksmen, on me!" he yelled, his voice hoarse. "Target those RPG gunners first! Eliminate the immediate threats!" He quickly assessed the situation, counting five of his snipers still alive and responsive. He pulled a compact rocket launcher – a Carl Gustaf recoilless rifle – from his gear.
"Squad, get down!" he roared, bracing himself against the crumbling wall. He aimed the bazooka at the bunker entrance, his finger finding the trigger.
He shot the hidden bunker. There was a moment of silence, and then he heard his sergeant on the radio, his voice strained but resolute.
"Squad, we cannot take them all down. I will cover all of you, then run back to camp. It's been an honor to serve with you all."
The sergeant grabbed the two machine guns beside him, his movements slow and labored, but his eyes filled with a fierce determination. Even as he struggled to stand, he hoisted the heavy weapons.
He staggered forward, firing both machine guns in a devastating barrage, creating a wall of lead that kept the enemy at bay. It was a suicidal charge, but it bought the squad precious time. Jake and the others scrambled to their feet, sprinting towards the relative safety of the rear lines.
They glanced back, seeing their sergeant silhouetted against the smoke and gunfire, a lone figure holding back a tide of enemies.
They ran back to the camp, soldiers holding other wounded soldiers in their arms, running for their lives.
Jake left his things, brought only his sniper, and ran with the other marksmen.
A bright light lit up the sky, and as they ran, their radio cracked to life, not with orders or reports but with a panicked voice from the camp, like a warning. There it was, a cryptic message from their radio.
"Unconfirmed reports…large objects from the sky…atmospheric entry… multiple sightings…"
The transmission cut out, leaving a chilling sense in its wake. The bright light in the sky is almost blinding, painting the sky orange and yellow.
A huge rock struck their way back to camp…Then another one… The ground beneath his feet started to crumble.
He ran as fast as he could, leaving his guns behind… Avoiding the ground splitting wide open from the impact of the rocks falling. He stumbled, caught his foot on an unseen rock, and fell.
"Not now," he thought while gathering all his strength and trying to stand back up. He was injured. Pain radiating from his legs, blood seeping through a tear in his pants. The jagged edge of the rock had gouged deep into his calves.
"I don't want to die like this," he gritted his teeth, forcing himself to be back on his feet, only to stumble on the ground again.
Through the haze of dust and pain, he watched his comrades running for their lives; even the enemies stopped firing at them and retreated to their base.
"Maybe this is it," he murmured. "This is not about the war anymore. This is not their doing. It seems like the sky has fallen", he whispered to himself, while his hands were still gripping his pocket where the photo of his wife and daughter lies.
Then, everything went black.
—
Jake stood up, his hands on rubbing on his temple. He felt someone approaching from behind, his head snapping around to face them.
For a moment, suspicion flickered across his features before it softened into cautious curiosity.
"Are you guys... real?" he asked, his voice raw. "Is this some kind of hallucination?"
The man shook his head, trying to steady his breath. "No idea. There's something bigger going on here, and we don't have much time."
The woman stepped forward, her voice steady despite the fear in her eyes. "We need to figure this out. That timer… it's counting down to something, and I don't think we want to be here when it hits zero."
Jake hesitated, his gaze flicking between them. Finally, he nodded, albeit reluctantly.
"Fine. But I'm not trusting anyone blindly," he said, his voice low but determined.
"Fair enough…" the man paused and looked at the guy as if asking him what his name was.
"Jake," he said.
"Fair enough, Jake. I'm Zack," he said.
"And this is?" Jake gestured to the woman behind Zack, but he also didn't know her name, since they had just met seconds ago. They both looked at her at the same time, waiting for her to answer.
"I'm Arya," she said.
"Enough with the pleasantries,we don't have enough time, let's go!" She added and ran quickly with Jake and Zack matching her pace.
The timer above them continued to count down.
[00:26:00…00:25:59…00:25:58…00:25:57…]