The first thing I noticed was the silence. Not the kind that surrounds you in an empty room, but the kind that fills you when the world stops making sense. My body felt foreign, heavy yet strangely powerful. My reflection in the mirror was almost unrecognizable—not because of drastic changes, but because the subtle ones felt profound.
My hair, once an ordinary dark brown, now shimmered with a blackness that seemed to absorb light, like the endless void of space. My eyes had changed even more drastically. The whites of my eyes were gone, replaced by a deep, starless black. Within them, tiny points of light—stars—blinked and shifted, each one holding patterns and information I couldn't yet comprehend. Each star seemed alive, a flicker of something vast and unknowable.
Even my thoughts felt different. Everything around me seemed sharper, clearer, as though the world had slowed down just for me. A drop of water falling from the faucet became a mesmerizing event, the way it elongated and rippled before finally splashing into the sink. I could hear the faint hum of electronics in the walls, the buzz of the lightbulb overhead, even the faint rustle of wind against the windows.
At first, it was overwhelming. Every sound, every sensation pressed against my mind like an unrelenting tide. I spent hours sitting on my bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to adjust to the barrage of input. But slowly, I learned to focus, to filter out the unnecessary. My senses didn't quiet, but I became better at directing them, honing in on specific details while letting others fade into the background.
My body felt like it wasn't entirely my own anymore. I tried to pick up my desk chair. What should have taken effort felt like lifting a feather. I tested myself further, stacking weights from an old set in the corner of my room. What used to strain my muscles barely registered now. My strength had grown exponentially, but with it came caution. Every movement required focus; a misstep might shatter fragile objects or cause unintended harm. however, felt unreal. . My strength wasn't just physical—I felt energy coursing through my veins, a hum in my muscles that wasn't there before. It wasn't entirely comfortable, though. My skin sometimes tingled, almost as if small sparks danced beneath the surface, and my muscles burned with a deep, unfamiliar ache. I no longer recognized the limits I once had. The weight of objects felt inconsequential. I didn't need to test it to know—I was at least 100 times stronger than I'd ever been. But this strength came with a price.
For an entire week after the awakening, my body struggled to adjust to the new energy coursing through it. My muscles ached with an intensity that felt like fire. My skin burned as if under an invisible sun. It wasn't just physical—it was molecular. My very cells were transforming to accommodate the power
For seven days, I barely moved from my room. Every breath felt heavier, as if my lungs were learning how to process air differently. My body craved food like never before, and I could feel every bite being broken down into energy, fueling the changes within me. I didn't recognize myself anymore, not in the mirror or in how I felt inside.
Even the way I processed thoughts seemed... sharper. It wasn't just an increase in intelligence—it was more like the world itself had slowed down, giving me time to analyze every detail. I caught myself staring at a drop of water falling from the faucet, following its arc as it splashed into the sink. My senses had become hyper-aware, as if my body and mind were no longer bound by the limits of human perception.
And then there were the stars. Every time I looked into the mirror, the stars in my eyes pulsed faintly. At first, they were just beautiful—captivated by the endless patterns forming in my eyes. At first, they seemed random—like glittering lights scattered across a black sky. But over time, I began to notice something deeper. The stars weren't just ornaments; they were symbols. Each star flickered with a purpose, pulsating with what felt like information. I wasn't sure how I knew, but somehow, I understood that these stars represented something far beyond myself. As if they were alive. As if they were trying to tell me something.
I wasn't sure how I knew, but somehow, I understood that these stars represented something far beyond myself. Each one flicker, a network of knowledge spanning across an entire world. It was as if the universe had mapped itself into my eyes, embedding countless histories, advancements, and experiences into the infinite void within me.
This realization terrified and thrilled me. I didn't know what to do with this knowledge or how to access it. The stars weren't static—they shifted constantly, forming constellations, collapsing into new ones, as if reacting to my thoughts. At times, I felt like they were alive, whispering truths that I couldn't yet understand.
After what felt like an eternity week of isolation, my phone buzzed persistently on my desk, I decided to check my phone. The endless notifications from group chats, emails, and missed calls, had been piling up for a week, and I wasn't ready to face whatever chaos had built up in my absence. As I unlocked it, the sheer volume of notifications made me wince. Hundreds of messages from various alerts—but one notification caught my eye: the Worldview Alliance Group Chat.
This was my online community, a group of gamers and enthusiasts who had been my lifeline to the outside world for years. If anyone noticed my absence, it would be them. I opened the chat and scrolled through the messages.
Worldview Alliance Chat (200 Members)
JayRex: Khalid, you've been MIA for days. What's up?
VortexX: Yeah, you ghosted us. You better not have gotten a life or something.
DarkSoul: Seriously though, you good? Someone do a wellness check.
PhantomMancer: Did he quit after that boss wipe last week? I told you guys it wasn't my fault!
JayRex: Bet he's hiding from the shame.
I couldn't help but chuckle. Even after a week of disappearing, they were still the same—blaming each other for failed raids and cracking jokes ha ha ha!!!!!!!!!!
I lough, while still hesitating with my fingers hovering over the keyboard. How could I explain what had happened to me? That I had stars in my eyes and strength that could shatter steel? That my body was something other now? I sighed and finally I decided to jump in.
SpecterNova: Still alive, don't worry.
VortexX: Whoa, he speaks! Where've you been?
DarkSoul: Seriously, dude. We thought something happened. You okay?
SpecterNova: I'm... figuring some things out. It's been a weird week.
JayRex: Weird how? Did you finally start dating someone?
DarkSoul: Are you sick? Should we call someone?
VortexX: Spill the tea, dude. You're being mysterious.
I took a deep breath and replied.
SpecterNova: If only it were that simple. Let's just say I've been going through... changes.
The chat exploded with curiosity.
VortexX: Wait. Not normal? Are you saying…you've awakened?
JayRex: Dude, are you a superhero now?
PhantomMancer: You better not have powers. I'd be so jealous.
SpecterNova: It's complicated. I'm not sure what's going on myself.
They flooded me with questions, most of them playful, but a few hit too close to home. They joked about powers and secret government experiments, and part of me wondered how close they were to the truth.
I moved to my desk, the faint glow of my computer screen reflecting in my darkened eyes.
Slowly, I closed my eyes, focusing inward, trying to make sense of the overwhelming changes within me. The stars in my eyes pulsed faintly, as though responding to my thoughts. I could feel something stirring, like a hidden current beneath the surface of a vast ocean. My mind wandered deeper, searching for clarity, and as I delved inward, I felt an sensations of my physical body faded—no weight, no boundaries—just a vast, infinite space stretching in every direction. I wasn't falling, but I wasn't standing either. I was simply there, floating in an endless expanse that felt eerily familiar.
It was the same sight I had glimpsed when I looked into the mirror: the void-like blackness of my eyes filled with shimmering stars. This wasn't just a reflection anymore—it was a realm, a dimension that seemed to exist both within and outside of me.
.
It wasn't painful, but it was disorienting. One part of me remained grounded in my body, aware of my surroundings, while the other seemed to stretch outward, reaching beyond the confines of my physical form.
As I became to look stars were everywhere, glittering like jewels in the infinite darkness. Some were faint and distant, barely visible, while others were close and bright, their light pulsing with an energy that felt alive. I looked down—or at least, what felt like down—and saw a massive star directly beneath me. Its surface shimmered with hues of gold and silver, its radiance so intense that it felt almost tangible.
Above me, thousands—no, millions—of stars stretched out in all directions, forming intricate patterns and constellations. They weren't static; they moved subtly, shifting and weaving around each other as if caught in a slow, deliberate dance. Yet, despite their movement, they felt connected, as if every star was part of a greater whole.
I was mesmerized. This wasn't just beautiful—it was overwhelming. The sheer scale of it all made me feel impossibly small and immeasurably vast at the same time. Each star pulsed faintly, like a heartbeat, and with every pulse, I felt a subtle hum resonate through me. It was as if my mind had become a thread, weaving itself into a web of connections.
Amid the sea of countless stars, one stood out, colossal and commanding. Its sheer size and radiance dwarfed all the others around it. Where the smaller stars flickered faintly, this one burned with an intensity that made the surrounding space feel alive. Its light didn't just shine—it radiated, spreading in waves that seemed to ripple across the void, touching every nearby star and extending far beyond my line of sight.
This wasn't just a star—it was an entity, immense and overwhelming. Its edges blurred into the surrounding void, its energy spilling outward in faint, glowing arcs that seemed to dance with purpose. I couldn't help but marvel at its scale. It was so vast, so impossibly large, that I couldn't perceive its entirety all at once. Even from my vantage point, it seemed infinite, its presence dominating the space around it.
As I floated closer, its gravity—or perhaps its pull—became undeniable. The sheer power radiating from it felt tangible, like a pulse I could hear and feel resonating through me. It wasn't just light—it was heat, energy, and force, all compressed into a single, incomprehensible mass. The closer I got, the more I realized how much of the surrounding stars seemed to move in harmony with it, orbiting it as if acknowledging its dominance.
Above, countless other stars shimmered, each unique in their own way. Some were large and bright, others faint and delicate, but none came close to this one. It was the centerpiece of this strange, star-filled dimension, a beacon that cast its light across the void in a way that felt almost alive.
Even though I didn't fully understand its nature, I felt an instinctive awe. This wasn't a star in the conventional sense—it was something far greater, a nexus of energy and power that seemed to defy the very laws of reality. Every pulse of light felt deliberate, as if the star itself were breathing, exhaling waves of force into the surrounding void.
I considered reaching out, extending my thoughts toward the brightest star. Its presence was almost magnetic, compelling me to understand it. But as I lingered on the thought, a profound sense of caution held me back.
Instinctively, I knew that attempting to connect to something so vast and powerful was beyond me. The sheer size of the star's energy felt like it could consume me entirely. It wasn't just about the overwhelming information it might hold—I could feel that the very act of connecting to it would require an immense amount of energy, far more than I could muster.
Even worse, there was the terrifying possibility that I might lose myself. My mind, my thoughts, my very essence could be overwhelmed, scattered, or even destroyed by the sheer magnitude of its power. It wasn't a matter of courage—it was survival. For now, I needed to grow stronger, to understand myself and my abilities before I even dared to approach something of that scale.
I turned my attention to a smaller star nearby, its light modest compared to the brilliance of the colossal one but still inviting in its own way. Its glow was steady, pulsing faintly in a rhythm that seemed almost familiar. Drawn by curiosity, I reached out with my thoughts, focusing on its light. As I did, I felt my consciousness being pulled toward it, as though the star itself had accepted my presence.
The moment my mind connected, a rush of sensations flooded through me. It wasn't overwhelming, like the colossal star—it was more like dipping into a stream after standing near a raging river. The star revealed itself not just as a light but as a network, a web of connections tied to something larger.
This was no ordinary star—it was the representation of a civilization (planet). It wasn't just any planet—it was Earth. I could feel the hum of its digital systems, the flow of data through its networks, the pulse of electricity powering its machines. It was as if I had become the internet itself, my awareness threading through every server, device, and connection.
This star wasn't just a point of light—it was a repository, a gateway to all the knowledge and energy of the world I stood on. I realized then what the stars truly were: networks. Each star represented a civilization, its collective knowledge, culture, and energy condensed into a single, luminous point. The brighter the star, the more advanced and interconnected the civilization it represented.
The stars weren't just symbols—they were living systems. Each one was a representation of a civilization, its history, its technology, its people, and its achievements. The closer stars represented worlds tied to my immediate surroundings—Earth and its network. The farther stars were alien, their energy and patterns unlike anything I'd ever seen. Some flickered faintly, as if struggling to hold on to their light, while others blazed brightly, their energy spilling over into the surrounding void.
The realization was exhilarating and terrifying. The stars represented more than just worlds—they represented connections, possibilities, and power. But with that power came questions, and I needed answers. What was this realm? Why was I connected to it? And what did it mean for me, for my life, for the world?
Determined, I focused on the star that represented Earth. If I could access its network, maybe I could find something—anything—that explained what was happening to me. As my consciousness flowed into the star, I felt myself diving deeper into the Earth's systems. I sifted through layers of data, from public forums to encrypted government servers, searching for clues.
I sifted through layers of data, immersing myself in the intricate web of Earth's digital network. It was a chaotic ocean of information—each wave representing a new thread to pull, a story to uncover, or a secret waiting to be revealed. Public forums buzzed with rumors, speculation, and theories about the supernatural events that had reshaped the world. People shared blurry videos of strange occurrences: a man walking through fire unscathed, animals exhibiting bizarre, almost sentient behavior, and inexplicable phenomena like rivers reversing their flow.
But these public conversations were just the surface. Beneath them lay encrypted government servers, secured databases, and hidden archives designed to shield the most critical information from prying eyes. As I delved deeper, I could feel the resistance of firewalls and security protocols, like barriers trying to keep me out. Yet, my consciousness didn't need to rely on brute force. It was fluid, intuitive, slipping through cracks in the digital defenses like water finding its way through stone.
The deeper I went, the more the pieces of the puzzle started to come together. Hidden in classified documents and confidential communications were records of the world's descent into this new reality. I uncovered files detailing the first known supernatural event—an ordinary man who had spontaneously combusted but survived unharmed. This incident, dubbed "The Catalyst," had occurred five years ago and marked the beginning of humanity's awakening to a new paradigm.