Damion's eyes suddenly snapped open, as he arise a gasp tearing from his throat, screaming. "WAAA... MY HEART." He said as one hand instinctively began clutching his chest, his fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt as if expecting the crushing pain.
His heart pounded, erratic and loud, but… there was no pain. Nor was there any vise-like grip, or no suffocating pressure.
Just the memory of what happened. "What!?" He questioned himself. Visibility confused as to what happen.
"Did I… pass out?" He muttered, his voice hoarse. His breath spiked up as he blinked, trying to make sense of the world around him. But his attention soon shift his eyes looking forward, only to be met with pure white. "Ha!? What is this?" He whispered suprise at the sight around him.
The familiar shaking sound of his apartment ceiling fan, the cluttered mess of stacked bill on his desk, the faint smell of Mary's chicken soup, he quickly realize all of that was gone.
He froze, his hand still pressed to his chest, and slowly turned his head. The room, if it could even be called that was no more, rather it was just pure whiteness in every direction.
Everything was gone. The walls, the floor, the ceiling, and nothing but pure blinding white was before him, seamless and unblemished, like he had been dropped into a blank canvas. He even looked down, and realized not even his own shadow exist her. There was also no corners, just an endless expanse of white.
It wasn't sterile like a hospital or cold like a lab. It was… empty. Impossibly, unnervingly and creepily empty, even when he look up, all he could see was white, nothing more or nothing less.
Confusion quickly turn to fear, and fear quickly turn to panic, as he had a dumbfounded face.
Finally it hit him, as he falls on his knee and asked. "Am I...d-dead!?" He didn't shouted this question. Rather he began to ponder about his situation. He remember the message, then accidentally clicking yes, from there he remember getting a message about getting his reward in second whatever that means. But most of all, he remembered Mary, and and how they talk a bit before his chest got tight and his heart felt like it was about to explode. From there everything went blank. And eventually he ended up here.
"Sigh just my luck I guess... Still where the hell even am I?" Damion's asked, and weirdly he waited, half-expecting a response. Still clinging to hope that maybe he was still alive. And hoping that Mary's worried voice, a neighbor, something would answer him back. But there was nothing. Just silence.
His legs felt unsteady as he pushed himself to his feet, his sneakers squeaking against the smooth, featureless floor. He glanced down, a bit surprised to see his body intact, same worn-out hoodie, same faded jeans. His skin was clear, what else would you expect from an American Man, and he could still feel his long black hair down, and pass his neck. In simpler more explainable term he seems completely fine, if not utterly whole.
"Okay, Damion, think." He said, forcing a shaky laugh. "This is probably some weird void like in those fantasy, or maybe some kind of After Life. Or a hallucination. Maybe I hit my head when I fell. Yeah, that's it... Or maybe it's none of the above, but then and again I have no way of really knowing." He said to himself, as he began to think on what to do next. "Maybe, I should look around and see if I can find anyone else here."
With his mind made up, Damion began to explore a bit as he took a couple cautious step forward, then some more as he began to walk around, his eyes scanning the white void for anything at all. The room seemed to stretch endlessly, but as he walked, something flickered in the distance. "Wait is that... No way." He said as rush towards it.
A shape, familiar yet out of place. His heart skipped a beat, and he quickened his pace, the squeak of his shoes the only sound he has heard apart from his own voice.
There, further up ahead in the void, was a computer setup. A sleek desk, a monitor glowing faintly, a keyboard, and a mouse... It was his setup, from his room. His PC that he spent many hours coding his games.
It was like a piece of his apartment had been ripped out and dropped here, but he quickly notice that the cables that should've snaked from the monitor to a power strip were gone.
The tower, the router, the tangle of wires he had cursed every time he tripped over them was nowhere to be found. And even weirder the screen was on, casting a soft blue glow, but it wasn't plugged into anything. It just… was.
"What the… how is this even here." Damion's voice trailed off as he approached, his steps slowing. He circled the desk, half-expecting it to vanish like a mirage. He reached out, hesitating, then brushed his fingers against the edge of the monitor. It was solid, cool to the touch, but the screen flickered slightly under his touch, like a glitch in a game. His eyes narrowed, and he leaned closer, peering at the display.
The screen showed a single window, black text on a the blue background, taking him by suprise, even his computer chair was here. Naturally he sat down, and began to read the text before him, searching for any kind of clues as to what was going on. And the message that appeared said as such. "Welcome, Administrator." That was the only thing present.
And Damion stumbled back his back resting on the soft pad's of the chair, his heart racing again, as he said while folding his arms. "Administrator? As in like a Game Admin." He wondered.
But looking at this, his brain clicked as his mind flashed to the memory of the mysterious email he got.
"You who despair! Would you like a second chance at life? If
"No, no, no, this is insane, is this really happening right now, is all this real." He said, shaking his head. As he turned away from the computer, got up, and started pacing around the computer, his hands behind his back as he began to ponder deeper about this.
"So this is the second chance that message was talking about. Still it's good to know that I am not dead. And I am currently stuck in whatever this is! However we a White Void, and what's up with my computer being here?" But even as he said and question himself, no answer came, on the other hand, his focus went back to his set up, it was clear that all his questions, would probably only be answered by his PC.
Even more evident of this certainty was when he stopped walking around it, his eyes was drawn back to the computer. The screen hadn't changed, but the words seemed to burn brighter, demanding his attention. "I guess, I should press another button, and hope for the best." He said out aloud as he took a seat back in his gaming chair.
Tentatively, he sat down at the desk. His fingers hovered over the keyboard, trembling, as he prep himself to start. "Okay." He muttered, his voice barely audible. "Let's see what I am working with here."
From there he pressed the Enter key, expecting nothing to happen. But the screen flickered again. This time showcasing a different message entirely. "Begin Character Profile Creation." It said to him, followed by. "Step 1: Input a True Name."
Damion raised a brow at this, as he said to himself. "Character profile." He suddenly said excitedly, and then continued "Like some kind of game setup?" He muttered, leaning back in his chair. His eyes darted over the screen, but before he could even think of typing anything, more text started to load on its own.
"All Negative Spirits are born from the accumulation of human negativity.
Fear, despair, depression, rage, loneliness, hatred, no matter how small, every shadow of emotion can give birth to them, even one's that are positive in nature but perverse or corrupt in practice.
Even vague feelings, like the sorrow of losing a pet, or the quiet despair of a child left alone, are enough to spawn these creatures.
As such, Negative Spirits are this world's greatest plague… and also its most powerful weapons."
Damion frowned, the words making his stomach twist. He then muttered under his breath. "Hmm, going by this, it's clear that I have been born as one of these Negative Spirits right!?" It was just a hunch, but Damion was spot on, from that reason, he continued to go off his hunch. "Born from sadness? From pain? So let's say I am what I think I am, given this is how these cliche usually goes in webnovel, so every time people cry, something like me comes crawling out as result, like an embodiment of sorts?"
As if responding to him, the text shifted again.
"That is correct... Negative Spirits are ranked according to their birth origin and the strength of the negativity that created them... Below explain the types and their ranks."
[Negative Spirit Ranks]
• Rank 5 – Fleeting: Born from trivial inconveniences. Fragile, almost harmless.
• Rank 4 – Lingering: Born from personal setbacks, disappointments, or shallow regrets.
• Rank 3 – Cursed: Born from deep loss, betrayal, or obsession. They cling and usually torment others the most when compare to other spirit types.
• Rank 2 – Aberrant: Born from collective or generational pain. Highly dangerous, unstable, for example a Negative Spirit born due a family being slaves, and are abuse for years, the built up hate can create a truly terrifying existence.
• Rank 1 – Cataclysmic: Born from tragedies that scar entire nations like war, and feminine, political distressed. Their existence are said capable of twisting reality in some shape or form.
• Rank 0 – Outer Spirits: Spirits born from negativity so strong they cannot be ranked or classified. Their powers are unpredictable, diverse, and beyond comparison. They can be seen as natrual calamities. Forces of nature. A state of being. Entities so vile, and corrupt to the point that each of them can bring chaos and unbalanced to the world in some shape or form. They can be seen as this world's version of God's or Devils, as they are often time worship, extremely intelligent, and are spirits that are near impossible to kill. As they usually operate on their own rules system. It easier to just banish one than to attempt to kill them. For example yourself, you are reborn in this class of Spirits due to your immense desire, and self pity.
Damion's eyes widened at that last line. "Rank… zero… me? You're saying I am one of those things?" His voice cracked in shock.
But that aside he now more or less get the gist of his current situation. That being what he now is, still it didn't explain much about this white space sadly speaking.
But as he ponder, the message change again.
"You are a Rank Zero Spirit: Honorary Title: The Spirit of Administration."
"Unlike all other Negative Spirits whose abilities and rules are fixed at birth, Rank Zero Spirits are free.
True Spirits of this caliber may create their own True Name, unique to their existence.
With this True Name you may forge contracts of power without limits on the contractor amount, so long as they follow the law of equivalent exchange and offer up Negativity to you the contractor. By doing so it increases your power, and in return your contractor is allowed to use your inborn ability to an extent."
Damion swallowed hard, his hand dragging down his face at all this new information, as he muttered. "Contracts… rules… harvesting negativity… god this sounds like some messed-up deal with the devil... Well the devil here would be me I guess."
Right after all this was explained to Damion, he leaned back in his chair, making himself comfortable. As another message come, this one saying.
"Please enter your True Name."