Night fell quickly.
Adam lay on his bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling, as if searching for answers within the cracks of the old paint. The city outside remained alive, but inside that room, time seemed to have stopped.
The fan turned slowly. A constant, almost hypnotic sound contrasted with the turbulence stirring inside him.
Two days. That was the time the system had given him before being thrown into another hell. Seventy-two hours between the reality he once knew and the nightmare that had now become part of his life.
But Adam couldn't rest.
All he saw was Larissa's face—the moment she fell, the machete lodged in her eye, blood streaming, and the silence... that cursed silence after the sacrifice.
The notification about his new ability kept echoing in his mind:
"Whispers from Beyond"
Allows the user to sense spiritual presences and, in moments of strong emotional connection, hear words or echoes from the dead.
"Can I… hear her?"
He got up slowly, his body heavy. The system hadn't given him instructions on how to use the power—just the cold description. But he had to try. Anything. Even the faintest sign.
He walked to the closet mirror and covered it with a t-shirt. He remembered stories, superstitions, films—spirits sometimes appeared through reflections. And he wasn't ready to see Larissa like that again.
He turned off the lights. Let the room sink into shadows. Sat on the floor, legs crossed, hands resting on his knees.
He took a deep breath.
Closed his eyes.
— Larissa… — his voice came out low, almost a whisper. — If you can hear me… please… say something.
Nothing.
Just the fan.
Adam tried again, with more pain, more urgency:
— You didn't deserve that. I… I should've been faster. I should've protected you. But now… now I have this power. And I will find a way. But… give me a sign. Just one.
The silence thickened. The air turned colder.
And then…
— Adam…
The voice was faint, like a breath between worlds. So quiet he thought he imagined it.
But he felt it.
The room chilled. A shiver ran down his spine like a thin blade. His eyes opened suddenly, staring into the darkness.
— Larissa?! — his voice trembled.
No reply.
But he knew. She was there. For a moment. Something — someone — had heard him.
He dropped to his knees, tears falling once more, but this time with a faint glow of hope within the despair.
— I'll find a way to bring you back. I swear on everything.
The system activated with a soft blue glow at the edge of his vision.
[Spiritual Connection: Established – 1%]
This ability will evolve with continued use and true emotional bonds.
Warning: Strong connections may attract unidentified entities.
Adam read that last line with a chill down his spine.
Unidentified entities?
He took a deep breath.
Still, he wouldn't hesitate.
Larissa deserved more than a silent death in a cruel world. She deserved peace. Or a second chance.
And he was willing to challenge the impossible for that.
The sky turned gray as dawn broke, and Adam left the house.
He had no intention of spending another second unprepared.
This time, he would fight differently. With intelligence. With knowledge.
With strategy.
The first hours were spent scavenging used bookstores, searching for anything related to the supernatural. He bought poorly translated grimoires, occult books, old symbol manuals, and even encyclopedias on folklore. Anything that could offer clues on how to survive the horrors of the worlds he'd face.
But there was something more.
During the previous night, after hearing Larissa's voice, Adam spent hours watching something that marked his adolescence:
Supernatural.
Dean and Sam Winchester. The hunter brothers. Fictional, sure, but the techniques, the symbols, the rituals… so much of it made sense now. And if the system pulled him into worlds based on horror movies and shows, maybe their rules applied too.
He began taking notes.
Salt. Iron. Protection sigils. Containment circles. Basic Latin. Demons, ghosts, possessions.
"You never know what's coming next."
Back at home, he turned his room into a miniature hunter's sanctuary.
He carved protective symbols beneath the rug. Lined salt around the bed. Cleaned and reorganized the backpack he'd use for combat: flashlight, knife, lighter, med kit, a bag of coarse salt, an iron rod, and a small bottle of holy water—stolen from the neighborhood parish. If it didn't work, at least it would cause psychological damage.
On the wall, he pinned maps, notes, and sigils. A true "hunter's room."
While sharpening the knife, Adam spoke to himself, staring into the mirror:
— I'm not Dean. I'm not Sam. But I'm learning. And I will survive. For me. For Larissa.
That night, he once again sat in the center of the room, trying to force the spiritual ability. He whispered Larissa's name, but heard nothing—just that cold breeze that seemed to visit the room whenever he tried to connect with her.
["Whispers from Beyond" – Experience Increased.]
[New Passive Acquired: "Dark Intuition" – Level 1]
You can instinctively sense supernatural presences and extreme spiritual emotions nearby.
Adam closed his eyes. He could feel the world shifting around him. He was changing.
As the final seconds echoed in his mind, he stood, ready.
[Interval Time Ended.]
[New World Loaded.]
Synchronizing with Horror Reality: 12%... 43%... 78%... 100%.
Prepare yourself. You are entering the universe of… Silent Hill.
Adam's breath caught.
The air grew heavy. Moist. Ash-laced. The ground beneath his feet creaked.
A shrill siren pierced the darkness.
And for the first time, even with fear... he was prepared.