Jacob and Connor were exposed to slanted rays of light as the Saturday sun streamed feebly through the broken glass. The ancient wood creaked under their combined weight as they lay side by side, compressed by the harsh frame of the tiny bed.
The smell of old beer and neglect filled the room. The floor was littered with trash, and half-empty bottles were grouped together in corners like lost artifacts. Underneath them, the mattress seemed less like a place to sleep than a flimsy pretext for relaxation. For most, Saturday was a day of freedom. It was just another day for Jacob and Connor, conjoined twins stuck in a life of mutual suffering.
The alarm exploded to life, shattering the uneasy silence.
Jacob groaned, swiping blindly. His hand found Connor's face instead of the clock.
"Damn it, Jacob!" Connor snapped, recoiling. "The alarm's on my side! Quit flailing around!"
"Sorry," Jacob mumbled, not sounding all that sorry. It wasn't the first time.
Connor sighed, the weight of the week pressing on him. "Seventh time. Seriously. Can't you at least try to remember?"
Jacob forced a half-smile, trying to diffuse the tension. "Wanna play some games? Might make today suck a little less."
Connor hesitated. He didn't want to play — the games felt hollow lately. But what else was there? Go outside and be stared at like a freak? Sit here and suffocate in the smell of failure? He stared at the cracked TV in the next room, the battered controllers, and the half-solved metal Rubik's Cube on the table. It wasn't much, but it was theirs.
"Yeah," he muttered. "Let's get up."
Getting out of bed was a battle they fought every morning. Their movements, practiced but never graceful, required perfect coordination. The bed frame groaned again in protest as they struggled to stand. They leaned on each other — they had no other choice — and shuffled to the gaming room.
It was as depressing as the bedroom. Trash covered the floor, and the flickering fluorescent light hummed an off-key tune. The ancient TV blinked awake, the picture fuzzy and unstable.
They collapsed onto the couch, the peeling faux leather sticking to their skin. The room was silent except for the hum of the TV. Jacob tapped his fingers on the armrest, waiting for the game to load. Connor stared at the screen, but his mind drifted. Twenty-six years of this. No family. No answers. Just each other, trapped in a world that didn't want them.
Then the room shifted.
A low hum vibrated through the walls, the floor, their bones. Everything rippled, like reality itself was warping. The TV screen blinked, the room twisted — then the world dissolved.
They weren't in the apartment anymore.
They stood in an endless white void. The air was cold and too still, like the breath of the world had been sucked away. The floor wasn't solid, yet they didn't fall. It felt like standing on nothing.
"What the hell…" Connor's voice was barely a whisper. He squeezed his hand, testing the dream theory. It hurt. Not a dream.
"Welcome to the institution process of Universe Eighty-Eight."
The voice wasn't human. It was smooth, calm, and unnervingly robotic. The twins twisted around, but they were alone in the void.
A blue screen blinked into existence in front of them, hovering in the air. It listed classes, like a video game character creation menu:
} Class {
Warrior/Fighter: Frontline combatant, high strength, melee abilities.
Mage/Wizard: Spellcaster, powerful magic attacks.
Rogue/Assassin: Agile, high burst damage.
Healer/Cleric: Restores health, protective spells.
Tank/Guardian: Absorbs damage, shields allies.
Archer/Ranger: Long-range precision fighter.
Summoner/Beast Tamer: Commands creatures to fight.
Monk: Hand-to-hand combat master.
Support/Bard: Buffs allies, debuffs enemies.
"All participants must select a class. Failure to choose will result in a random assignment," the voice instructed.
Connor's stomach twisted. This wasn't happening. It couldn't be.
Jacob, however, was grinning. He barely glanced at Connor before jabbing a finger at Summoner.
"Jacob, wait—" Connor started, but it was too late.
A beep sounded. The screen blinked red. A countdown appeared.
10...9...
Connor panicked. His mind raced. He wasn't built for this. He didn't want to fight. He didn't want to die. He slammed his hand against Mage.
2...1...
The void shifted again. A wave of vertigo hit them as the white abyss shattered. Colors exploded around them, blinding and overwhelming. Their feet hit solid ground — dirt and moss.
The air was thick and humid. Towering trees surrounded them, sunlight stabbing through the dense canopy. Unfamiliar sounds echoed from the underbrush — clicks, screeches, rustles.
"Welcome to the Jungle of Trials," the voice returned, fading like a distant echo.
Jacob's eyes widened, sparkling with awe. He nudged Connor. "This is insane. Look!"
From the trees, a group of small creatures swung through the branches. They looked like monkeys but with shimmering, iridescent eyes.
A window flickered into Jacob's view.
Skill activation: Identify
{Simian Monkey} lvl 3
Jacob grinned. "Dude, this is unreal. We can identify stuff! I wonder what else we can do."
Connor didn't share his enthusiasm. His skin prickled. The jungle was too quiet — too staged. His gut twisted. Something wasn't right.
A shadow moved in the underbrush. Black as the void they had just left. Eyes, glowing emerald, pierced the foliage. It watched them. It wasn't alone.
Jacob's smile faded.
"Connor…?"
Connor swallowed hard. His heart slammed against his ribs.