Year 2047
Monday, 5:30 AM.
30 minutes before the incident.
A suburban city in Southeast Asia.
The shrill beeping of an alarm echoed through a dimly lit room, piercing the stillness of dawn.
Jin groaned, fumbling blindly until his hand found the clock and silenced it with a click.
Blinking against the darkness, he forced himself upright.
At 25, Jin prided himself on his discipline, even if his body protested these early mornings.
He shuffled to the glass door leading to his balcony, drawing back the curtains.
Golden light crept over the horizon, bathing the city in a warm glow.
This was his favorite moment—a quiet ritual that grounded him.
With a steaming cup of coffee in hand, he let the sunrise soothe his weary mind.
His smartwatch buzzed against his wrist: 05:45.
"Time to go," he muttered.
He rushed through his routine—brushing his teeth, splashing cold water on his face, and tugging on a clean shirt.
Moments later, he was downstairs, swinging a leg over his old motorbike.
The engine roared to life, and he sped off to pick up his girlfriend, Mari.
05:59 AM.
The sky was a masterpiece, streaked with hues of gold and azure.
Jin couldn't help but marvel at its beauty, his thoughts drifting as the cool wind brushed against his face.
But something felt… off.
"Whoa…" he whispered, slowing his bike.
Above him, the clouds rippled unnaturally, surging in a straight line as though pushed by an invisible hand.
His amazement turned to unease when the trees ahead began to sway violently, bending under the force of an unseen wave.
Jin's heart raced. Cars skidded off the road, motorcycles toppled, and chaos erupted in the streets.
"What the hell is—"
The ripple struck him.
A strange warmth flooded his body, electric and soothing all at once.
His senses blurred, reality slipping away.
Darkness consumed him.
In the void.
Jin floated in silence, weightless against the vast expanse of space.
Stars stretched endlessly, their cold light indifferent to his existence.
He couldn't move.
He couldn't speak.
He was a speck of life adrift in the infinite.
Then, a star exploded.
A supernova of brilliant white light surged toward him, swallowing everything in its path.
The light consumed him, blinding and absolute.
When the darkness returned, Jin was no longer in space.
He stood in a misty room, the air thick with an otherworldly glow.
A blinding radiance flared before him, forcing him to shield his eyes.
Slowly, the light condensed, forming the silhouette of a woman.
Jin's breath hitched.
It was her.
"Mom…" he whispered, his voice trembling.
Tears streamed down his face as he ran to her, his sobs breaking the silence.
He threw his arms around her, clinging to the warmth he had longed for.
"My son," she said, her voice soft and familiar. "I've missed you."
"I'm sorry!" Jin cried. "I didn't take care of you. If I had—if I'd done more—"
"Shh," she murmured, brushing her hand through his hair. "Don't blame yourself, Jin. Everything happens for a reason. It was fate."
Her words stirred memories—of her sacrifices, her unwavering love, her strength as she raised him and his brother alone.
"Why am I here?" Jin asked. "Am I… dead?"
She smiled, bittersweet. "No, my son. Your journey isn't over. There's still so much you must do."
Her tone grew serious, her gaze piercing. "The world you know is changing. Dark forces are rising, and only those who are strong will endure. You must protect what matters most, Jin. Protect your world."
"My world?" he repeated, confusion clouding his face. "What's happening? What do you mean?"
"You'll understand soon," she said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "The system will guide you."
"The system?"
Her form began to fade, dissolving into light. Jin clung to her, desperate to keep her there.
"No! Don't go!"
Her final words echoed in his mind:
"Stay strong, my son. Beware the Seven Sins. And remember—
I will always be with you."
6:00 PM.
Jin jolted awake, gasping for air.
His chest heaved as he tried to steady himself, the memory of his mother's warmth still lingering.
"Jin!"
Mari's voice broke through his haze.
Her tear-streaked face came into view as she clutched his hand.
"You're awake," she said, her voice trembling with relief. "Oh, thank God."
Jin's throat was dry. "W-where…?"
"We're in the hospital," Mari explained. "You collapsed in the street. They brought you here with dozens of others."
Jin rubbed his temples, flashes of the ripple and the void flooding back. "The wave… it hit me. Then… everything went black."
Mari nodded, her expression grim. "They're calling it a global phenomenon. No one knows what caused it, but…" Her voice faltered. "They're saying the Core exploded."
Jin froze. The Core—a monumental energy source that powered the world—had been a symbol of progress, of hope. Its failure was unthinkable.
"Nearly sixty percent of the global population was affected," Mari continued. "Millions collapsed. Some didn't wake up."
Her words were a knife to his chest.
But before Jin could respond, a translucent window materialized in front of him.
"SYSTEM SYNCHRONIZATION COMPLETE."
"What is this…?" someone muttered, their voice breaking the stunned silence.
Others stumbled back, their breaths quick and panicked.
The room erupted into chaos, voices overlapping as confusion gave way to dread.
For a moment, it was as though reality itself had cracked, letting something alien and incomprehensible bleed through.
The confused exclamations from the patients alarmed their families and friends, who exchanged bewildered looks.
"What are you talking about?" Jin's girlfriend asked, her voice rising with concern as she noticed his bewildered expression.
Jin's brow furrowed, and he raised his hands, gesturing as though interacting with something invisible just in front of his face. "You don't see this?"
"See what?" Her voice grew sharper, both confused and worried. "What exactly is it, Jin?"
"This!" Jin repeated, waving his hands as though operating a floating screen.
She stared at him, her face a mix of irritation and fear. "Huh? There's nothing there!"
The unease in the room grew as similar scenes unfolded around them.
Patients described strange visions while their loved ones looked on in increasing alarm.
Jin's girlfriend glanced around, her anxiety spiking as she realized everyone seemed to be experiencing the same phenomenon.
"Oh my God," she thought, dread sinking in. "Are their minds… affected?"
The relatives' growing panic echoed her fears, their voices blending into a cacophony of calls for help.
"Doctor! Doctor!"
But the hospital was overwhelmed.
With so many patients exhibiting the same strange symptoms, no single doctor could respond to the flood of cries.
Suddenly, the TV news anchor's voice boomed again, cutting through the noise like a blade.
"We interrupt with breaking news…"
The hall fell silent once more as the anchor's words sent shockwaves through the listeners.
"Reports are flooding in from across the globe. All victims of the mass unconsciousness appear to be experiencing the same phenomenon: the spontaneous ability to see and interact with an augmented reality interface—without the use of any external hardware."
The room erupted.
"A what now?!"
"This has to be some kind of joke!"
Theories and accusations flew as confusion and fear took hold.
Speculation ranged from secret military projects to alien invasions, with every possibility seeming as absurd as the next.
Jin, still staring at the somewhat familiar invisible interface in front of him, reached out cautiously, his fingers brushing against something unseen but tangible.
He couldn't believe it, but the floating UI reminded him of something straight out of a video game he was playing, World of Fantasy.
"What the hell is going on…?" he muttered, his voice barely audible over the chaos.
"That dream—Mom talked about a system to help…"
The memory came rushing back. "Is this what she meant?"
Jin's girlfriend could no longer contain her emotions.
Tears streamed down her face as she clung tightly to him, her sobs muffled against his shoulder.
"What's happening to him?" she thought, her heart breaking with worry.
"Please let him be okay…" she prayed.
Around her, the hospital corridor was filled with similar scenes—families weeping, clinging to their loved ones, each person trying to make sense of the inexplicable.
The air was thick with despair, as if the very walls of the building were absorbing the collective uncertainty. It was a silent reflection of the chaos unfolding beyond these walls, likely sweeping across the entire world.
Moments later, a voice crackled over the hospital's PA system. The announcement, though meant to calm, only added to the tension in the room.
A directive from the global governments, issued to help manage the growing panic:
"Patients who have sustained no serious physical injuries should be discharged and allowed to return home."
"All affected individuals are advised to stay home, remain calm, and begin preparing for the unknown. Stock up on essential supplies, as authorities are still assessing the full extent of the damage, and the timeline for recovery remains uncertain."
A few disgruntled murmurs and cries of frustration echoed through the halls. The suggestion to send people home felt premature, and many were left feeling abandoned in their confusion.
The second part of the announcement—the urgent call to prepare for a prolonged crisis—spiked fresh waves of anxiety. Across the city, the reaction was immediate. Panic spread like wildfire. Supermarkets were overrun within minutes, their shelves cleared out by desperate people scrambling to secure provisions, each fearful of what the future held in the wake of an event no one truly understood.
But unknown to the public, the governments of the world were withholding an even more terrifying revelation—one they feared would plunge humanity into outright chaos.