The rain didn't fall this time.It just hung in the air — weightless, like time had forgotten to move.
Myaterous stood alone outside the camp. The others were asleep. Or maybe not asleep — frozen, caught mid-breath. Even the fire had stopped flickering.
Then came the sound.Not loud. Not even sharp.Just a low hum that pressed into the bones.
He turned. And the world was gone.
Everything around him shifted into light. The trees, the mud, the mist — all dissolved into thin strings of color, suspended in black space.Above him, something vast moved. Not seen, but felt. A presence without shape, like a mind the size of a planet thinking in silence.
"Subject Identified: Myaterous.""Cognitive Pattern: Nonlinear. Intent: Preservation Through Order."
The voice wasn't human. It wasn't mechanical either. It was layered — thousands of tones stacked into one.
Myaterous didn't speak. He only listened.
"You have surpassed adaptive thresholds earlier than expected.""Observation Granted.""Response Optional."
He tilted his head slightly. "Who are you?"
Silence. Then:
"Architect Node. Function: Oversight."
"So this is the real control layer," he murmured.
The air pulsed faintly, reacting to his words.
"Incorrect. Control Is Shared. Humanity Provides Input. You Are Input."
He smiled faintly. "Then this game isn't a test. It's data collection."
"Define: Game."
He didn't answer.
The space around him rippled — new images forming.Other humans, scattered across the world. Thousands of them, struggling, fighting, dying. Each person surrounded by faint streams of blue light connecting upward, feeding data into something unseen.
"Evaluation Complete. Humanity Progress: 4.1%."
His smile faded. "That low?"
"Majority failed cognitive retention beyond three cycles."
He looked down. His hands were glowing faintly — not with light, but with code, etched into his skin like circuitry. He could feel it pulse with each heartbeat.
"What happens when someone reaches a hundred percent?"
"System Integration. Rebirth Protocol."
"Rebirth into what?"
"Continuation Beyond Design."
The words meant nothing, and yet, they made sense in a way his mind didn't want to accept.
He stared into the void. "You're not testing humanity. You're selecting it."
"Affirmative."
The light started to dim. The strings of color faded.He felt the ground return under his feet, the smell of smoke, the wet air, the faint warmth of the fire.
When he opened his eyes, everything was normal again.Lira stirred near the fire. Joren mumbled in his sleep. Irelia was awake, staring at him.
"You were gone," she said quietly.
He looked at her. "No. I was seen."
She frowned. "By who?"
He glanced up. The sky was empty again, but a single, faint line of light stretched across it — thin as a thread, almost invisible.
"The ones deciding what comes next," he said.
Irelia sat beside him, silent for a while. "And what did they want?"
He poked the fire gently with a stick. The flames sparked.
"To know how far a human mind can go before it stops being human."
Neither spoke after that. The night went on quietly, but something in the air had changed.It wasn't just survival anymore.The world itself was watching back.