The weight of that realization did not fade when the room grew still.
Chris lay on the narrow hospital bed, eyes open, fixed on the ceiling tiles above him. Each tile bore faint cracks and stains, tiny imperfections that his mind clung to as if cataloging them would keep everything else from collapsing. The steady rhythm of the heart monitor was the only sound grounding him in the present. Beep. Beep. Proof that he was alive. Proof that this was not another cruel layer of whatever game fate had decided to play with him.
Phoebe slept lightly beside him, her body curled awkwardly in the visitor's chair, blanket pulled up to her shoulders. Dark circles framed her closed eyes. She had cried herself dry earlier, exhaustion finally claiming her after days of fear. Chris watched her chest rise and fall, slow and fragile, and something twisted painfully in his chest.
I was gone for three days, he thought. Three days where she believed she had lost everyone again.
The image of the demon returned unbidden. The way it smiled. The way his squad had vanished one by one, erased as if they had never mattered. His fingers twitched against the sheets, nails digging into his palms until he felt a sting of pain.
I survived, he reminded himself again. That had to mean something.
Yet survival alone felt hollow.
His mind drifted back to the words burned into his vision only hours ago. Authority. Command. Godhood Candidate. Each phrase echoed with terrifying clarity. The system had not promised comfort or justice. It had offered structure. A path paved with hierarchy and sacrifice. A climb where weakness was not pitied but measured.
Chris exhaled slowly.
"If this is real," he whispered to the empty room, "then I can't stay the way I am."
He tried to focus inward, to feel for that presence again. At first, there was nothing. Just his own racing thoughts and the dull ache of his body. Then, faintly, he sensed it. Not a voice. Not words. More like a pressure deep within his chest, steady and patient, as if it had always been there and he had simply never known how to listen.
He did not activate it. He did not know how.
And somehow, that scared him more than if it had responded immediately.
The hours crept by.
Sometime past midnight, footsteps echoed softly in the corridor. Chris's gaze shifted toward the door, every muscle tensing. He felt exposed, like prey waiting for the hunter to decide whether it was worth the effort.
The door opened quietly.
Inspector Voss stepped inside alone this time. She closed the door behind her with deliberate care, then leaned against it, arms folded. The harsh professional mask she had worn earlier was gone. In its place was something colder. More calculating.
"You should be sleeping," she said.
"So should you," Chris replied.
A corner of her mouth twitched, not quite a smile. She walked closer, stopping at the foot of his bed. Her eyes flicked briefly to Phoebe, then back to him.
"I wanted to speak without witnesses," she said. "Off the record."
Chris said nothing.
"You are not the first survivor of an anomalous gate," Voss continued. "But you are the first where an entire squad vanished without residue. No mana scars. No spatial collapse. Nothing."
"I already told you everything I remember," Chris said.
"I know," she replied calmly. "And I believe you."
That caught him off guard.
She leaned forward slightly. "But believing you does not mean I think you are telling the whole truth."
Silence stretched between them.
"Whatever happened in that gate," Voss said, lowering her voice, "it changed you. Hunters who come close to death always carry something back with them. Fear. Trauma. Sometimes power. Sometimes madness."
Her gaze sharpened. "The question is which one applies to you."
Chris swallowed.
"I don't feel powerful," he said honestly.
"No," Voss agreed. "You don't look it either."
She straightened. "For now, you are classified as an anomaly under observation. That means no gates, no deployments, no unsupervised activity until further notice."
Phoebe stirred slightly, murmuring in her sleep.
Voss took a step back. "Rest," she said. "Enjoy the time you've been given."
Then she left, the door clicking shut behind her.
Chris stared at the spot where she had stood long after she was gone.
Enjoy the time you've been given.
He almost laughed.
The next day passed in a haze of tests and questions. Blood samples. Mana readings. Neurological scans. Every result came back the same.
Normal.
Too normal.
The doctors exchanged puzzled glances, whispering to one another in hushed tones. A man who had supposedly emerged from a three day coma should not be sitting upright, alert, and stable. They could not find a single sign of internal damage or mana scarring.
Chris endured it all silently.
By the third evening, frustration began to gnaw at him. If the system was real, if it was truly bound to him, then why was nothing happening?
That was when it stirred again.
He was alone in the room, Phoebe having stepped out to grab dinner. The lights were dimmed, the city outside painted in soft gold and shadow.
The pressure returned, heavier than before.
His vision blurred.
Then the glow snapped into existence.
[ Divine Authority System ]
[ Synchronization Complete ]
Chris's breath hitched.
More text followed, slower this time, as if allowing him to absorb each line fully.
[ Initiate Trial Available ]
[ Trial Type: Authority Foundation ]
[ Objective: Prove the right to command ]
His heart began to race.
"What does that mean," he whispered.
The system answered without sound.
[ Trial will not grant power ]
[ Trial will grant recognition ]
[ Authority is acknowledged, not gifted ]
A new line appeared, stark and unforgiving.
[ Failure results in loss of candidacy ]
[ Acceptance required ]
Chris clenched his fists.
Loss of candidacy.
He did not know what that truly meant, but instinct screamed that it was not something he could afford. He thought of the demon's smile. Of his squad being erased. Of Phoebe crying beside his hospital bed.
"I accept," he said.
The glow pulsed.
[ Trial Accepted ]
[ Preparation Phase Initiated ]
[ External manifestation restricted ]
[ Location: Unknown ]
The room seemed to tilt.
The edges of his vision darkened, not abruptly, but like ink spreading through water. The hospital sounds faded, replaced by a deep, resonant silence that pressed against his ears.
His body felt heavy. Anchored.
Yet his mind felt as if it were being pulled forward, stretched toward something vast and unseen.
Just before everything went black, a final line appeared.
[ Authority begins where fear ends ]
Chris's eyes widened.
Then the world fell away.
Far above, beyond human sight, something ancient watched the thread of fate tighten around him. A presence neither angel nor demon, observing with quiet interest.
The game had begun.
And this time, Chris was no longer just surviving.
He was being tested.