Ethan Vance hated Mondays.
He sat hunched over his desk in a cubicle lit by the cold glow of fluorescent lights, the tapping of keyboards echoing around him. The office was a cage, and he was its most diligent prisoner. His coworkers were just background noise, faceless figures moving through a gray world.
The only thing that kept him sane was gaming. Retro titles, obscure indies—anything that transported him far from reality. Every night after work, he retreated to his dimly lit apartment, headphones on, fingers dancing over his keyboard as he lost himself in virtual worlds.
Tonight was no different.
Ethan shuffled through the apartment door, tossed his bag on the floor, and booted up his aging PC. The cooling fans hummed to life as he cracked open a can of soda. His gaming backlog was a sprawling mess, but nothing caught his eye. He needed something new, something fresh.
That's when he saw it.
On a forum buried deep in the recesses of the internet, a post caught his attention:
"Catalyst: Dark Rebirth – The ultimate survival experience. Are you ready to shape the apocalypse?"
The post had no upvotes, no comments, no developer links. Just a single, cryptic line at the bottom:
"Only the Architect can wield the Catalyst."
Ethan frowned. He'd never heard of this game, but the pitch intrigued him. He clicked the download link, ignoring the vague sense of unease gnawing at him. A black terminal window popped up on his screen, lines of text streaming across like a digital waterfall:
INITIALIZING...
WELCOME, PLAYER.
CONNECTING TO HOST SERVER...
SUCCESS.
YOU HAVE BEEN CHOSEN AS THE ARCHITECT.
Ethan smirked. "Architect, huh? Sounds pretentious."
The terminal closed, replaced by a minimalist title screen:
Catalyst: Dark Rebirth
Press any key to begin.
Ethan pressed a key.
...
The game opened with a flurry of text.
DAY 1
You awaken in a shattered world. Resources are scarce. Survival is uncertain. Your decisions will shape this reality.
Location: Abandoned Farmhouse
Inventory: [Ragged Clothes] [Pocket Knife] [Stale Bread]
The screen filled with options.
[Search the Farmhouse]
[Venture Outside]
[Check Inventory]
Ethan chose to search the farmhouse.
You find:
[Can of Beans]
[Rusty Crowbar]
[Tattered Backpack]
"Basic survival gear," Ethan muttered. He equipped the backpack and crowbar.
The game's descriptions were vivid, almost unnervingly so. He could practically hear the creak of wooden floorboards and smell the decay of the ruined farmhouse. It was impressive for a text-based game, bordering on immersive.
Ethan ventured outside. The screen described a bleak landscape: dead trees clawing at an ashen sky, fields overrun with skeletal weeds, and a distant shape that resembled a derelict barn.
You see movement in the barn. Investigate?
"Let's see what's out there," Ethan murmured, clicking the option.
...
The barn was a death trap.
As you step inside, the smell of rot overwhelms you.
A creature emerges from the shadows: a humanoid figure with pale, leathery skin and empty eye sockets. It screeches, charging toward you.
Ethan's heart raced as he scrambled through his inventory. He selected the crowbar and chose the combat option.
You swing the crowbar. It connects with the creature's head.
The creature stumbles but retaliates, clawing at your arm.
[Health: -10]
Ethan gritted his teeth, clicking furiously to finish off the creature.
The creature collapses, its body dissolving into a black mist. You gain: [Rotten Bandages] [Bone Charm].
"Bone charm?" Ethan hovered over the item description.
A relic of unknown origin. It hums faintly in your hand.
The game's text lingered ominously before the screen flashed:
The Catalyst watches.
...
A chill ran down Ethan's spine. The phrase felt… off. He shook it off, blaming the late hour and his overactive imagination. He was about to exit the game when a loud thud echoed through his apartment.
He froze.
Another thud. It was coming from his kitchen.
Ethan removed his headphones, heart pounding. "Hello?" he called out, his voice wavering. No response.
He crept toward the kitchen, gripping a flashlight from his desk. The beam of light cut through the darkness, illuminating the empty counters and sink. Nothing seemed out of place—until he saw the can of beans.
It sat in the middle of the counter, its label torn, rust flaking along its edges.
Ethan blinked, his blood running cold. That can hadn't been there when he came home.
He spun around, eyes scanning the room. His gaze fell on his computer screen, where new text had appeared.
REALITY HAS BEEN UPDATED.
Welcome, Architect.
Ethan's flashlight slipped from his hands, clattering to the floor.
For the first time in years, he felt genuinely afraid.