Prologue + Chapter One — The System Breathes
The night the sky broke, silence was the loudest sound on Earth.
Across cities, oceans, and deserts, time seemed to stutter. Lights flickered, clouds folded in on themselves, and stars trembled like static on a broken screen. Every device buzzed once, then went still—like the planet itself had just exhaled.
Adem didn't panic at first. He was standing on the balcony of his cramped apartment, barefoot, wearing a hoodie too thin for the cold. Below him, the city still glowed—neon streaks on rain-soaked roads, cars frozen mid-turn. It looked like a paused movie.
He rubbed his eyes. "Great. Power grid crash again."
Except the lights weren't out. They were breathing. Every streetlamp and window pulsed in unison, slow and rhythmic, like the heartbeat of something enormous beneath the city.
A chill ran through him.
The pulse built to a low hum. Then, out of nowhere, every screen in sight—billboards, phones, the digital clock on the roadside—flashed the same words.
> [SYSTEM REBOOT IN PROGRESS…]
[WORLDLINE INTEGRITY: 14%]
He froze. "No way," he murmured, almost laughing. "I'm not that sleep-deprived."
The air thickened. A blue light rose from the horizon, washing everything in its glow. It wasn't lightning. It wasn't dawn. It was like the sky itself was folding inside out.
And then the world cracked.
The city fractured like glass submerged in water. Skyscrapers shimmered and flickered between shapes that shouldn't exist—one moment concrete and glass, the next, obsidian towers etched with moving runes. The air smelled of ozone and wet earth, a scent both human and alien.
Adem stumbled back, shielding his eyes.
> [System Overlap Imminent.]
[Prepare for Merge.]
Then—light. Soft. Infinite. Not blinding, but absolute.
And when it folded in on itself, he opened his eyes.
He was lying on the floor of his room. His cup of coffee had spilled, dripping cold over his hand. Outside, the city lights looked normal again. The hum had stopped. The only sound was the faint ticking of his wall clock.
3:17 a.m.
He sat up slowly. "Okay… hallucination or caffeine coma?"
But something was off. The air felt heavier. The shadows didn't quite sit still. And when he looked into the blank TV screen, his reflection blinked half a second too late.
Then came the whisper—metallic, disembodied, from somewhere deep inside his head.
> [SYSTEM: Boot sequence incomplete.]
[Warning: Host synchronization pending.]
Adem's breath hitched.
He had joked about this before with his friends—"Imagine if one day you woke up with a system in your head." It was the stuff of webnovels, the power fantasies of bored coders and late-night readers. But this voice wasn't part of a dream. It vibrated in his bones.
He tried to steady himself. "Alright… System, open status window?"
Silence. Then—
> [Synchronization: 2%.]
[Warning: Host consciousness interference detected.]
His head throbbed. He gripped the table for balance. It felt like static was crawling through his veins. A thousand fragments of images exploded behind his eyes—torn landscapes, burning skies, a war fought between machines and creatures that didn't belong to any world he knew.
And at the center of it all, a man stood on a battlefield of silver dust—tall, armored, his eyes burning gold. He turned, shouting through the chaos.
"Arvane! Hold the line!"
Adem's knees buckled. The vision shattered. He collapsed, gasping.
> [Synchronization: 8%.]
[Merging with Fragment A–01: Arvane of the Rift.]
[Warning: Dimensional boundary unstable.]
His reflection in the TV screen flickered again—this time, unmistakably different. The same face, but older. Sharper. War-torn.
"Who are you?" he whispered.
> [Host recognized as Shared Vessel.]
[Data Link Established.]
The voice wasn't external anymore. It felt alive inside him, layered with another consciousness—one that wasn't entirely asleep.
Adem stumbled to his window. The city outside shimmered again, faint but undeniable. A bird froze mid-flight, suspended in a ripple of light. In the distance, the skyline twisted—modern towers bleeding into shapes that looked ancient, curved, and impossible.
Something heavy clanged in the alley below.
He leaned out the window. A man stood there, twitching under a streetlight. The glow washed over his skin, which rippled like static. The man looked up, eyes blank white, and screamed. It was the sound of a radio tearing itself apart.
Adem recoiled.
> [Warning: Corrupted Entity Detected.]
[System Defense Mode Available.]
"What defense—?"
His right hand glowed. Lines of faint light traced his veins, forming a sigil across his palm. Instinct told him to pull away, but something—someone—guided the movement.
He raised his hand.
The light erupted, forming a blade of pure energy, humming low and steady.
The creature below convulsed, shrieking as the light from his hand intensified. The world dimmed for a heartbeat—and then everything snapped back. The street was empty. The pulse in his palm faded.
Adem slumped against the wall, trembling.
The system spoke again, voice smooth and cold.
> [Synchronization: 12%.]
[Welcome, Commander Arvane.]
[The Merge has begun.]
He stared at his reflection one more time. Half his face was his own. The other half shimmered faintly, golden veins threading beneath the skin.
"This isn't a dream," he whispered.
And for the first time, the other voice inside him answered.
"No. It's a second beginning."
Outside, the horizon split again—one half the city he knew, the other a mirror of worlds colliding, ancient and digital. Between them stood Adem, the system breathing softly through his chest.
He looked down at his trembling hand, the faint light still pulsing under the skin, and exhaled.
"Alright," he said quietly. "If this is real… then I guess I'm logging in."