"That's enough, Order!"
The voice didn't come from the man in white. It came from behind Evan.
And it wasn't a greeting. It was a growl.
Evan froze.
The man in white—the entity that had just revealed the history of the world's failures—was still kneeling, his head bowed.
A hand clamped over Evan's mouth from behind.
It didn't feel like a human hand. It felt like a band of cold steel wrapped in leather. Another hand gripped his shoulder, the fingers digging in hard enough to bruise bone.
Evan's eyes went wide. The pain spiked hot and sharp.
The grip yanked him backward.
"Don't you dare!" the man in white shouted, rising to his feet instantly. His regal composure shattered into glitching rage. "Release the Candidate, Chaos!"
"I don't care about what you want to do, Order," the figure holding Evan replied. His voice vibrated against Evan's ear like a subwoofer. "And I hate your scripts."
"Stop!" Order didn't just shout. He attacked.
He raised a white-gloved hand.
SNAP.
The air around Evan shrieked.
Dozens of chains made of blinding, solid white light erupted from the rippling floor. They didn't move like metal; they moved like snakes, seeking a target.
Before Evan could blink, the chains wrapped around his legs, his waist, and his chest. They tightened instantly, locking him in place with the force of a hydraulic press.
Evan gasped, the air squeezed out of his lungs. He was paralyzed. Anchored to the spot by hard light.
"You cannot take him," Order commanded, his voice echoing like a god's. "He is bound to the Prophecy."
"Bound?"
The figure holding Evan—Chaos—laughed. It was a dark, jagged sound.
"I hate binding."
Chaos released his grip on Evan's shoulder. He raised his right hand.
The air around his glove distorted. Black smoke coalesced, hardening in a split second into three massive, spectral claws. They were three feet long, jagged, and pulsed with a violet entropy.
Chaos swung.
He didn't aim directly at Order. He aimed for the chains.
SLASH.
The sound was awful—like a jet engine tearing itself apart.
The black claws connected with the white chains. There was no resistance. The claws didn't just cut the light; they corrupted it. The white links turned grey, then black, and then shattered into digital dust.
But the same happened to the claw. It was destroyed after the impact.
The force of the impact sent a shockwave through the void. Evan was thrown backward, the remnants of the light chains dissolving off his body.
Order roared, summoning a massive wall of light to block them, but the connection was already severed.
"We are leaving," Chaos said.
He grabbed Evan again.
The world twisted.
It wasn't a spin; it was a folding of space. Evan felt his stomach drop out of his body as gravity inverted. Up became down. Left and right twisted. He felt like he was being squeezed through a straw.
"No!" Order screamed, his voice distorting into a digital screech as he faded away.
Evan shut his eyes and braced for impact.
This speed, I am going to die.
Then, silence.
No spinning. No pulling. No screaming.
Just dead stillness.
The bone-deep cold of the void was gone, replaced by a neutral, sterile atmosphere.
Evan was confused. He cracked one eye open.
It was bright. The surroundings were blindingly, painfully white. It was like staring into the heart of a searchlight.
Evan squeezed his eyes shut instantly, shielding his face with his arm. Tears streamed down his cheeks—a reflex against the assault of pure light.
"Too bright," he hissed, the afterimage burning red behind his eyelids.
He waited, breathing hard, until the searing pain faded to a dull throb. He blinked rapidly, forcing his watering eyes to focus.
The world resolved into shapes.
He was standing on a floor of white marble that stretched infinitely in all directions. Above him was a sky of white, too.
And standing in front of him was the man.
Evan stumbled back, rubbing his eyes.
"You."
It was the same silhouette. Tall hat. Trench coat. Mask.
But the colors had flipped again.
He was back in black.
Midnight black coat. Black gloves. Black hat. The face mask was a void that absorbed the blinding light of the room. The massive claws were gone, replaced by normal black gloved hands.
"Wait," Evan gasped, his heart hammering against his ribs. "Why are you in black now? You were just in white."
The man in black stood motionless. His presence was heavier than the white one. Less like a light, more like a gravity well.
"That was not me," the man said. His voice was deep, resonant, and utterly calm. "That was Order."
"Order?" Evan asked. "And who are you?"
"I am Chaos," the man replied.
"What are you?"
"A being."
Evan let out a frustrated breath, running a hand through his hair. His hands were shaking.
"That's enough," he snapped, fear making his voice sharp. "You're not even answering my question."
"Try different questions. Who or what am I… it is not that easy to explain. Even to a brilliant mind like you."
"Okay. I got that." He paused before asking, "Where am I? Why did you pull me out?"
"Order tried to bind you," Chaos said. "He wanted you to accept the title before you understood the cost."
"What? Being an Emperor? Isn't that cool?" Evan tested Chaos. He wanted to get as much information from him.
"You're not yet ready for whatever he planned for you."
"What do you mean?"
"He requires a puppet to stabilize the other world."
"A puppet?" Evan asked. "But he bowed to me and… what other world."
"He bowed to the role, not the man. There is a difference." Chaos stepped forward. His boots struck the white marble floor without making a sound. "You have been chosen, Evan Kyros. I can't tell you anything about the other world. But your journey should start in your world. Not the other."
Evan's stomach dropped. Chosen. The word echoed in his skull like a threat.
"Chosen for what?" Evan asked, his voice cracking. "I'm a student. I work part-time at a bookstore. I can't even help pay my parents' rent. You have the wrong guy. Check your database."
The figure tilted his head.
"We do not care about your struggles, Evan."
"Then why?" Evan demanded. "Why me?"
Chaos stepped closer. The void of the mask loomed over him.
"Because you carry the purest blood of the First Emperor."
Evan blinked.
"Blood?" He let out a short, incredulous laugh. "My dad works in a depot. My mom is a nurse. We don't have 'First Emperor's blood.' We have debt."
Before Chaos could respond, a sound tore through the air.
CRACK.
The white floor beneath them groaned. A thin fracture appeared between Evan and Chaos, glowing with molten gold light.
The fracture raced outward, shattering the perfect marble surface like a spiderweb on a windshield.
"What's happening?" Evan yelled, backing away as the floor began to vibrate.
Chaos didn't move. He didn't look at the floor. He looked at Evan.
"Order is trying to take control," Chaos said calmly. "It is time to return. This place is merely a short stop. You're not supposed to be here yet."
"Return?" Evan looked at the crumbling floor. "Return to where?"
"To your world," Chaos said. "You have tasks to complete there. You must survive the trial."
"Survive?"
The floor shattered.
Evan dropped.
He fell like a stone into blinding light, clawing at empty air.
"Wait!" he screamed.
Above him, Chaos stood on a floating shard of marble, watching him fall. His voice followed Evan down, steady and unshaken.
"Remember this, Evan. Power always demands a price. The Emperor System gives, but it also takes."
Then the light swallowed him whole.
THUMP.
It was silence and darkness again. But this time it was familiar.
The smell of damp paint. The smell of rain coming from his cracked window.
Evan gasped, his eyes flying open.
He was staring at his ceiling fan.
He was in his bed. His sheets were tangled tight around his legs, soaked in cold sweat.
"What… just happened?" he choked out.
He sat up, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. He touched his shoulder, half-expecting to find a bruise where Chaos had grabbed him.
Nothing. Just his t-shirt, damp with sweat.
He looked around the room.
The peeling desk. The cracked mirror. The rain drumming against the window.
Everything was normal. Everything was exactly as it had been.
I can't even tell if that was real or a dream.
His brain scrambled for a rational explanation.
Sleep paralysis. Stress. Hunger. The brain misfiring during REM cycles.
It made sense. It was the only thing that made sense.
Evan let out a long, shaky breath. "Just a dream. A hyper-realistic anxiety dream."
He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand.
"God, I need to stop skipping meals. My blood sugar must be crashing."
He swung his legs over the side of the bed. His gaze shifted to the phone—and froze.
Resting on top of his phone was a card.
Black. Matte. Light-absorbing.
The EMPEROR card.
The air left Evan's lungs.
"I still have the card," he whispered. "This part is real."
He reached out. His hand trembled. He picked up the card.
It wasn't just cold. It was freezing.
Suddenly, the card reacted.
It didn't melt. It didn't burn.
The black card dissolved into a stream of dark, golden light. It then shot straight into the charging port of his phone.
The screen lit up.
[ SYSTEM REBOOTING… ][ INSTALLING INTERFACE… 100% ]