The metro was always crowded at this hour.
Even before the world cracked open, Ravi Sharma thought there was something faintly inhuman about it the press of bodies packed into every inch of space, the mechanical sway of the carriage, the rhythm of iron wheels grinding along the tracks. The air carried the stale tang of metal, perfume too old to mask the sweat of strangers, and faint ozone from the electrical lines.
He stood with one hand gripping the overhead strap, posture bent slightly as the train lurched through a turn. People pressed against him on all sides. A man in a crumpled office shirt scrolled through his phone with twitching thumbs; a college girl in earphones bobbed her head to music no one else could hear; a mother hushed her fidgeting child with the practiced sharpness of someone used to small battles.
The metro had always been Ravi's place of observation. He was twenty-three, a year out of college, caught in the endless shuffle of job interviews and late-night freelance work that barely paid for rent. The metro was where he thought most where the hours stretched, where life blurred into the gray monotony of faces he'd never see again.
He was just about to close his eyes, to let the sway of the train lull him into a half-sleep, when it hit.
A blinding pain sharp, sudden split his skull in two. His breath caught. Knees buckled. The strap cut into his fingers as his vision turned white. The sound of the train was replaced by something else: a distant roar, like mountains collapsing.
And then the memories came.
Not dreams. Not visions. Memories.
He saw blood in the streets. Cars overturned, people screaming as shadows with teeth tore through them. The sky itself was not a sky at all, but a sheet of paper ripped open, light leaking through in jagged lines. He saw gods descending, their forms colossal and inhuman, eyes burning with judgment as cities burned beneath their feet.
And he saw himself.
Older, dust and blood clinging to every inch of his body, a jagged scar cutting down his jaw. He wielded a weapon he could barely lift, fighting not to win but to survive, his voice hoarse from shouting names of allies who no longer answered.
He saw their deaths friends collapsing one by one, swallowed by beasts, torn apart by explosions of divine fire. He saw his own end, choking on his blood as the world screamed its last.
It was all too vivid. Too sharp. Every detail carved into his skull like a knife. The memories weren't new. They belonged to him. He had lived them once before.
And now, he was here again.
His vision cleared. The train rattled on as if nothing had happened. Passengers shifted impatiently, eyes on their phones, unaware.
But Ravi's pulse was racing. His palms slick with sweat. He stared at his reflection in the window and saw not just his face, but the echo of the older man he had been.
No… this isn't possible, he thought.
And yet, deep down, he knew exactly what had happened. He had been given another chance.
The train emerged from the tunnel, sunlight flooding through the windows. Only, the sky outside wasn't blue.
It was cracking.
Thin fractures of light stretched across the clouds, glowing like molten glass. The lines spread with spiderweb precision, each crack splintering into more until the entire horizon looked ready to shatter.
The train screeched to a stop.
Passengers gasped, shoving phones to record the strange phenomenon. Some whispered prayers, others laughed nervously. But Ravi stood still, grip tightening around the iron strap.
Because he already knew what was coming.
The fracture split wide.
A figure emerged tall, draped in robes of shifting light, a crown of fire spinning endlessly above its head. Its presence pressed into the carriage like gravity itself, forcing knees to bend, thoughts to still. Even those who tried to scream found their voices stolen.
The being's voice resounded not through sound, but inside their skulls. Metallic, ancient, absolute.
[Welcome, Players.]
The silence shattered. A woman near the door stammered, "Wh–what is this? Who are you?"
The being tilted its head, as if amused.
[Do you at least know what a Scenario Host is?]
No one answered. Not the mother clutching her child, not the man filming desperately, not the girl tugging out her earphones in terror.
Ravi's lips curled into a humorless smile. His voice, low but steady, cut through the silence."It's the one running the show," he said. "Only… you don't get to quit."
The figure's halo pulsed.
[Main Scenario #1: The First Hunt]Clear Condition: Eliminate the designated threat.Time Limit: 30 minutes.
Text flooded across every passenger's vision, glowing in the air like translucent holograms. Some tried to swat at the words, others fell to their knees in denial.
Then the system glitched.
[System Notice: Initializing…][System Notice: …Error Detected…][System Notice: Unknown signal intrusion…]
The words twisted, letters melting into static before reforming into something else.
@Unknown_Origin: I gave you another chance. Don't waste it.
The message vanished instantly. Around him, the other passengers continued staring at their notifications, utterly unaware. Ravi's breath caught. His chest tightened.
"So… it was you," he whispered.
Then came the sound.
A vibration beneath the floor, a rumble that wasn't mechanical. A growl, deep and guttural, echoing from the darkness of the tunnel. The passengers panicked, rushing to the doors—only to slam into an invisible wall of blue light sealing them inside.
The footsteps grew louder. Heavy. Predatory.
Ravi exhaled, steadying his heartbeat. He crouched, fingers reaching into the corner by the seats, closing around the cold, rusty pipe he knew would be there. He had found it the first time. He had fought with it. And he had died with it.
But this time was different.
This time, he wasn't just fighting to survive. He was fighting with the weight of memory, with the knowledge of what was coming. He had been given another chance.
Two molten-yellow eyes glowed from the darkness.
Ravi raised the pipe, shoulders squared, voice steady.
"…Let's dance."