The slum was alive with its usual chaos—children shouting as they played in the narrow alleys, vendors arguing over prices, and the distant hum of traffic from the city's wealthier districts. Arin sat on the steps of his rented shack, watching the world pass by. His house—if it could even be called that—was a crumbling one-room space with cracks in every wall and a roof that leaked when it rained. But it was his, and that was enough.
At 19, Arin had learned not to expect much from life. As an orphan, he'd been kicked out of the system when he turned 16 and left to fend for himself. Odd jobs kept him fed, though barely, and the slum was where he found a place to survive.
But survival wasn't enough for Arin. He wanted something more.
His escape was exploration. He had a knack for finding places no one else dared to go—abandoned buildings, forgotten tunnels, hidden corners of the city. It wasn't just curiosity; it was a need to feel like there was more to the world than the struggle he saw every day.
Today had been another long one, working at a scrap yard where the pay was as broken as the machinery. Arin wiped his greasy hands on his worn jeans and leaned back against the wall.
A group of kids ran by, talking loudly about the "ghost factory" in the industrial zone. Arin's ears perked up. He caught snippets of their conversation:
"They say no one who goes in comes back!"
"It's cursed! My brother's friend saw lights coming from underground!"
"Liar. You're just scared."
Arin smirked to himself. Kids loved to exaggerate, but sometimes, their stories led to interesting places. He stood, stretching his aching muscles.
"Guess I've got my next spot," he muttered.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, Arin packed his essentials—a flashlight, his old crowbar, and a bag with some snacks and water. The slum grew quieter at night, but the industrial zone was never silent. It was alive with whispers of danger and mystery, and Arin thrived on that.
The journey to the industrial zone took him nearly an hour. By the time he arrived, the streets were deserted. The factories loomed like giants in the dark, their broken windows staring down at him like empty eyes. Arin slipped through a gap in the rusted fence, his flashlight slicing through the shadows.
The air was colder here, heavy with the smell of rust and decay. Arin moved carefully, stepping over fallen beams and shattered glass. The stories about this place had always been vague—a factory explosion decades ago, leaving the ground unstable and the site abandoned. But the details didn't matter to him. He was here for the thrill, and maybe to uncover something others had missed.
As he wandered deeper into the ruins, he noticed something unusual. The ground beneath him had a slight glow, faint but undeniable. He crouched down, brushing away the dust and dirt to reveal a smooth, circular surface with strange carvings etched into it.
"What the...?" Arin whispered. The markings pulsed faintly, almost as if they were alive. In the center of the circle was a small, jagged opening—just large enough for a person to slip through.
Without hesitation, Arin climbed into the hole, his flashlight casting erratic shadows on the walls as he crawled deeper. The space felt tight, like the earth itself was swallowing him. He finally emerged into a vast underground chamber, the walls lined with strange markings that pulsed with a faint, eerie light. The air was thick, filled with an ancient, almost electric energy that hummed in his chest.
At the center of the room stood an altar—an old stone structure covered in more carvings, worn smooth by time. A strange feeling washed over Arin, a mix of excitement and unease. He wasn't sure why, but the moment he stepped into the chamber, it felt like everything had shifted.
There was something about the altar that called to him. His eyes locked onto a small, glowing crystal resting atop the stone. It wasn't like anything he had ever seen before, shifting colors like liquid light. His curiosity took over, and without thinking, he stepped closer.
As his fingers brushed against the crystal, a sudden force erupted from it, knocking him back. The light surrounding the altar exploded into a blinding flash, filling the chamber, then... nothing.
Arin blinked rapidly, his heart pounding in his chest. The light faded, and the chamber fell silent. He pushed himself up from the ground, still disoriented. The strange hum in the air had stopped, but a weird sensation lingered in his body.
"Did I... Did something happen?" he muttered to himself, his voice echoing in the stillness.
He looked around, trying to make sense of what had just occurred. The altar was still glowing faintly, and the carvings on the walls seemed to pulse with a subtle energy. But Arin felt different—like something inside him had shifted, though he couldn't quite put his finger on it.
Shaking his head, he stood up and slowly made his way back to the hole he'd crawled through. He climbed out of the chamber and into the night air, the weight of the moment settling in. The excitement of the discovery buzzed in his veins, but his mind was still trying to catch up with the strange event that had just unfolded.
The walk back home was long. The streets of the slum seemed emptier than usual, or maybe it was just the exhaustion clouding Arin's mind. His feet dragged with every step, his body weighed down by the night's adventure. He barely noticed the cool night air as he walked, lost in thought and the strange feelings that filled him.
By the time he reached his small, crumbling house, he was utterly drained. His head throbbed, and his limbs ached from the long walk and the tension of what he had just experienced.
He fumbled with his keys, finally opening the door and stepping inside. The familiar creaks and groans of the house greeted him, but he barely registered it. His mind was a blur.
Arin kicked off his shoes and dropped his bag by the door, not bothering to unpack or even look around. All he wanted was to lie down. He stumbled to the small bed in the corner of the room, too tired to care about anything else.
The sheets felt cold against his skin, but the exhaustion hit him like a wave. He closed his eyes and let his body sink into the bed, his mind spinning with thoughts of the glowing crystal, the altar, the strange light. But sleep came quickly, and soon, everything faded into darkness.