14 July 2027, 6:40 PM
Private Cruise, Dubai Coast
Bass thumped through the deck.
Marcus leaned against the railing and stared at the dark water below. The cruise lights reflected off the surface like scattered coins. Behind him bodies swayed to music that had become white noise an hour ago.
He checked his phone. No messages. No emergencies. Nothing that demanded his attention except the party he was actively avoiding.
Alex's birthday. His best friend for fourteen years. He owed him this much.
The metal railing was cool under his palms. Real. Solid. Unlike the social performance happening behind him.
"Marcus." Alex appeared beside him with champagne sloshing in his glass. "You're hiding again."
"I'm here."
"Your body is here." Alex leaned against the railing and matched his posture. "Your brain checked out the moment we left port."
Marcus said nothing. What could he say? Alex knew him too well to believe any lie he offered.
"We're billionaires now." Alex's voice carried that familiar mixture of pride and frustration. "When are you going to start acting like one?"
"I bought you this yacht party."
"And you're spending it staring at the ocean like it owes you money." Alex shook his head. "You're twenty seven. No girlfriend. No social life beyond me. You're going to die alone Marcus."
Heat crawled up Marcus's neck. His fingers drummed against the railing. The rhythm matched his pulse.
"See those three women on stage?" Alex gestured with his champagne glass.
Marcus followed his gaze. Three figures in designer dresses that probably cost more than most people's cars. Perfect makeup. Perfect hair. The kind of beauty that came with power and knew its exact market value.
"Elisa. Suhani. Judy." Alex counted them off like items on a menu. "CEOs. Beautiful. Single. Our friends have been trying for years."
"Good for them."
"Marcus."
"I'm not interested." The words tasted flat in his mouth.
Alex studied him with the look he got when he was trying to solve a puzzle. "You know what? Fine. But you're not spending my birthday alone on this railing. Come on."
He grabbed Marcus's arm. His grip was firm. Insistent.
Marcus sighed and let himself be pulled toward the stage. Resistance would only make Alex more determined.
The woman in the red floral dress spotted them first. Her eyes narrowed. She leaned toward her companions and whispered something behind a manicured hand.
The whispers spread like ripples in water.
Marcus caught fragments. "That one in the button-up." "Looks lost." "Probably handles their taxes."
His jaw tightened. Not disgust in their eyes. Something worse. Dismissal. He was furniture to them. Background scenery in their carefully curated lives.
Alex tried to lead him closer to the three women. Marcus stopped.
"I can see it in their eyes."
"See what?"
"I don't exist to them." Marcus pulled his arm free. His voice stayed level. Empty. "And I prefer it that way."
He grabbed a beer from a passing waiter. The bottle was cold and wet with condensation. He took a long drink and the bitterness washed away the taste of the conversation.
Alex watched him for a moment. Then his face split into that reckless grin Marcus knew too well. "Alright. Screw them. Let's just have fun."
The music shifted to something with a heavier beat. Alex started moving and Marcus followed. Awkward but trying. Making the effort because that's what friendship meant.
The others joined them. The deck became a blur of bodies and alcohol and pounding bass. Two hours dissolved into a haze of movement and noise.
Marcus drank until the edges of the world softened. Until the whispers stopped mattering. Until he could almost pretend he belonged here.
---
Softness beneath his head woke him.
Marcus's eyes opened to blurred shapes. The scent hit him first. Jasmine mixed with vanilla and something floral he couldn't name. His head pounded with each heartbeat.
He lifted his head with effort.
Black tank top. Gold embroidery along the neckline. Curves that belonged on magazine covers and billboard advertisements.
Elisa.
She slept with her head tilted back against the couch. Her chest rose and fell in steady rhythm. Suhani sprawled beside her with one arm draped over the armrest. Judy curled up in a ball at the far end.
Marcus pushed himself upright. The room spun. His mouth tasted like he'd been licking ashtrays.
They looked different in sleep. Peaceful. The sharp edges of their carefully maintained personas smoothed away by unconsciousness. Almost human instead of the predators he knew they were.
He'd seen their quarterly reports. Read the articles about hostile takeovers and ruined competitors. These women didn't climb ladders. They built stairs from the bodies of anyone in their way.
Beautiful. Successful. Ruthless.
Alex snored on the adjacent couch. Drool pooled on the cushion beneath his cheek. His mouth hung open.
Marcus stood on shaking legs. He lifted his friend carefully. Alex was heavier than he looked and Marcus's arms trembled with the effort. Each step made his skull throb.
He carried Alex toward the rooms. The hallway tilted but he kept his balance.
Behind him three pairs of eyes opened.
"He just left." Elisa's voice held genuine surprise.
"Didn't even look at us." Suhani stretched like a cat waking from a nap.
"Carried his friend instead." Judy sat up and rubbed her eyes. "That's unusual."
Elisa's smile was cold and sharp as a knife edge. "Or he's just another coward who can't handle real women."
The other two laughed softly. The sound faded as Marcus turned the corner.
---
15 July 2027, 7:30 AM
The world tilted sideways.
Marcus flew through the air. His stomach lurched into his throat. Time stretched. The wall rushed toward his face.
He wrapped his arms around his head.
Impact drove every molecule of air from his lungs. Pain exploded across his shoulder and ribs like white hot metal. His vision went white. Then black. Then back to blurred shapes.
Around him the symphony of disaster played. Crashes. Screams. The groan of metal under stress it was never designed to handle.
He grabbed the window handle. Pulled himself upright. His shoulder screamed. His ribs felt like broken glass grinding together.
The ship lurched again. The floor became a wall. He stumbled and caught himself on the doorframe.
His phone lay on the floor. The screen had shattered into a spider web of cracks. He pressed the power button with shaking fingers.
Nothing.
No signal. No response. Just a black screen reflecting his own terrified face.
He stumbled toward Alex's room. Each step fought against the ship's violent movement. The hallway seemed to stretch forever.
The door hung open. Alex sat against the wall and cradled his right hand against his chest. Blood seeped between his fingers and dripped onto his shirt. His face was pale. Too pale.
"What's happening?" Marcus gripped the doorframe as the ship swayed.
Alex shook his head. His eyes were wide and unfocused. Shock settling in.
"Come on." Marcus pulled him up with his good arm. "Pilot cabin. Now."
They staggered through the corridor together. The floor tilted beneath them like a funhouse attraction. Marcus's shoulder throbbed with each movement. Each breath felt like knives in his ribs.
Captain Max hunched over the radio when they entered. His knuckles were white on the receiver. Static hissed from the speakers like angry snakes.
"Captain?" Marcus stepped closer.
Max didn't respond. His eyes fixed on something outside the window. His jaw worked silently. Trying to form words that wouldn't come.
Marcus moved to the window.
His breath stopped.
A black sphere hung in the air ahead. Perfect. Impossible. It wasn't just black. It was the absence of light itself. A hole punched through reality.
Water spiraled into it from the ocean below. A massive vortex stretched toward the sky. The ocean poured into nothing and their ship drifted closer with each passing second.
The sphere pulsed. Once. Twice.
Marcus's chest tightened. His pulse hammered in his ears so loud he could barely hear his own thoughts.
"What is that..." His voice cracked.
Light exploded outward from the sphere.
White. Blinding. All consuming.
The ship shot forward like a bullet from a gun.
Marcus's vision went white. Then black. Then nothing at all.
---
**Day 1**
**Unknown Location**
Pain dragged him back to consciousness.
Marcus opened his eyes. Nausea rolled through him in waves. Bile burned in his throat. He swallowed it down and tasted blood.
He forced himself to sit up. His shoulder screamed. His ribs ached with each breath. Everything hurt.
Alex lay beside him unconscious. Captain Max sprawled across the deck with blood matting his hair. Blood covered Alex's sleeve.
Marcus crawled to the first aid kit. His hands shook so badly he could barely grip the latch. The supplies spilled across the deck.
He wrapped Alex's wound with trembling fingers. Shallow cut. Not deep. His friend would live.
He moved through the ship on autopilot. Fifty people. All breathing. He bandaged cuts. Checked pulses. Stopped bleeding where he could.
Nobody died.
The window showed only bark. Just brown tree bark filling the entire view.
Marcus frowned. Stepped outside on unsteady legs.
The air hit him first. Different. Cleaner. Too clean. It filled his lungs like they'd never been properly filled before.
Trees rose into the sky. Six hundred meters tall. Maybe more. Their trunks were wider than skyscrapers. Bark rough as stone and ancient as mountains.
Above them mountains floated in the air.
Just. Floated.
Suspended in empty space with nothing holding them. No wires. No supports. No explanation. They simply existed where physics said they couldn't.
Marcus's chest tightened. His pulse hammered so loud he could hear it in his skull.
Not Earth. This wasn't Earth.
Physics didn't work like this. Gravity didn't work like this. Nothing worked like this.
He backed toward the ship. His legs trembled. He grabbed the railing to keep from falling.
Get inside. Think. Figure this out.
His analytical mind tried to process what he was seeing. Tried to fit it into any framework that made sense. Failed.
He went back inside. Sat on the floor. Waited for the others to wake.
---
An hour crawled by like a wounded animal.
People woke one by one. Groans. Questions asked in voices tight with fear. Panic filled the ship like rising flood water.
Marcus counted them while they stirred. Fifty total. Security guards with military training. Ship staff who knew how to follow orders. Paid escorts who'd signed up for a party not whatever this was. The three women who'd mocked him hours ago. Seven billionaires including him and Alex.
Fifty people in a place that shouldn't exist.
"Listen." His voice cut through the chaos.
Silence fell. Every eye turned to him.
"We're not on Earth anymore."
Laughter. Nervous. Disbelieving. The kind that came from people who desperately wanted him to be joking.
"Go look."
They did. One by one they stepped outside. They came back pale. Shaking. Eyes too wide.
Alex gripped Marcus's arm. His fingers dug in hard enough to bruise. "Can we go home?"
Marcus thought of the sphere. The light. The impossible physics outside. His mind ran through scenarios and calculations and came up empty.
"I don't know."
The escorts started crying. One collapsed against the wall and her shoulders shook with sobs. Others joined her. The sound filled the ship.
Captain Max stood. His voice cut through the sobbing like a blade.
"Everyone. Quiet. Now."
The authority in his tone pulled them together. Special forces training showing through the fear.
"Guards. Inventory check. Food and water and survival gear. Every single item. Report back in thirty minutes."
They scattered like birds startled from a branch.
Max returned with numbers written on a notepad. His face was grim. Lined with worry he was trying to hide.
"One week if we ration carefully. Maybe ten days if we stretch it thin."
"The radio?" Marcus already knew. Still had to ask. Still needed confirmation.
"Dead. Everything electronic is fried. Phones. Computers. Navigation. All of it." Max's jaw tightened. "We're completely cut off."
The sun touched the horizon outside. Orange light painted the massive trees and made them look like pillars holding up the sky itself.
"Everyone inside before dark." Max's voice left no room for argument. "We don't know what's out there. Guards establish a perimeter around the ship. Two hour shifts. Stay sharp. Stay alive."
The guards moved into position. They carried handguns and submachine guns. Small caliber weapons meant for human threats on Earth.
Marcus hoped it would be enough.
Deep in his gut he knew it wouldn't be.
---
**Day 2**
Shouting woke him.
Marcus scrambled to the deck. Found everyone staring at the sky with their mouths hanging open.
A guard pointed with a shaking hand. "There. Do you see them?"
Figures approached from the distance. Dark shapes against the morning sun.
As they drew closer details resolved. People. Standing on swords. Others riding clouds like they were solid platforms.
One passed directly overhead. Wind sliced through the air. Sharp. Discrete. The sound a jet makes when it breaks the sound barrier.
But no engines. No exhaust. No technology. Just a person standing on a sword moving faster than physics allowed.
Marcus's breath caught in his throat.
College memories surfaced unbidden. Late nights in the dorm with Alex. Reading web novels when they should have been studying. Stories about flying swordsmen. Immortal cultivators. Qi cultivation and power beyond human limits.
Fiction made real.
A group descended. Five of them. Three men and two women. They stood on clouds that drifted toward the ship like living things responding to thought.
The guards raised their weapons. Fingers on triggers. Breathing fast and shallow.
"Hold fire." Max's voice stayed steady. Controlled. "Wait for my command."
The cultivators landed on the deck without a sound. Their robes rippled despite the still air. Moved by forces Marcus couldn't see or understand.
An older man stepped forward. Gray streaked through his beard. His eyes held something ancient. Something that had seen centuries pass like days.
He smiled.
The smile didn't reach his eyes.
Marcus's hand found Alex's shoulder. Gripped tight enough to hurt. His friend didn't pull away.
The man spoke. Words Marcus didn't recognize. Melodic. Ancient. Beautiful in a way that made his chest ache.
Then the man raised one hand.
The air itself bent around his fingers. Warped. Reality twisted like fabric under tension.
Everything Marcus knew about the world shattered like his phone screen.
And beneath the fear that gripped his chest and squeezed his lungs something else stirred. Something deeper.
Curiosity.
He wanted to understand this. Needed to understand this.
Because in a world where physics could be broken and reality could be bent the old rules no longer applied.
And if the old rules were gone then maybe he could write new ones.
---