"Fuck… I'm bored." Ibnor sighed, the glow of his monitor reflecting in his tired eyes. 

Rows of game icons mocked him; each one a conquered world, a finished story. 

"A lot of games are installed… But none of them interest me as I've completed them all. What to do now? Hmm… maybe it's about time I start writing the novel. I've procrastinated long enough. If I keep going like this… It won't be done until the day I die," he thought, a familiar pang of guilt hitting him. 

A sudden spark of inspiration ignited within him, a rare and precious thing. He opened his word processor, the blank page a daunting but exciting canvas. He began typing, slowly at first, then faster as the words flowed. Words became sentences, sentences became paragraphs, and paragraphs bloomed into chapters. The rhythmic click-clack of the keyboard filled the room, punctuated by the hiss of his vape. 

"What time is it? Damn, 4 hours in and only 20 chapters? Well, not too bad. All together it is 315 chapters, halfway from the planned ending. It's not a lot if I put my mind on it, but my lazy ass has been delaying this for 3 years. It's fortunate that I didn't make a living as a writer. Otherwise, I'd be eating air for months. Let's stop here and get some food first." 

He grabbed his helmet and keys, the thought of a warm meal and a change of scenery a welcome break. Starting his motorcycle, he sped towards town, the wind whipping past him. Even as he navigated the traffic, his mind remained tethered to his story, characters whispering in his thoughts, plot points swirling in his imagination. 

Stopping at a traffic light, he took a long drag from his vape, still lost in his fictional world. The light turned yellow, then green. He shifted into first gear and accelerated. 

A monstrous horn blared to his left, and then—metal screeching against metal, the shattering of plastic, a sickening crunch—the world tilted before his vision dissolved into blackness. 

Then, consciousness returned, but not as he expected. He was floating, weightless, in an endless void. No up, no down, just an infinite expanse of nothingness. 

"You awake?" a voice echoed, seemingly from everywhere and nowhere at once. 

"Who's there?" he asked, his voice sounding strangely hollow in the vast emptiness. He turned, trying to find the source of the voice, but there was nothing to see. 

"I'm here," the voice responded, now sounding closer, as if right in front of him. 

A figure materialized before him, indistinct and shadowy, like a smudge of darkness against the deeper black of the void. He couldn't make out any details, just a vague humanoid shape. 

"Okay… what's happening?" Ibnor asked, a growing sense of unease creeping in. 

"You don't want to know…" the figure said, its voice flat and emotionless. 

"Alright… Why am I here?" Ibnor asked, remembering the old adage about fools rushing in. The figure shifted slightly, its form flickering and becoming even more indistinct. 

"You don't want to know," it repeated, the same chillingly neutral tone. 

"This… and what am I supposed to do now?" Ibnor asked, frustration starting to build. 

"Entertain us." 

"How? In this current state, there's not much I can do," Ibnor retorted, gesturing to the empty void around him. 

"We have a… situation. A delicate balance. Some believe power unchecked is a disaster. Others believe power undirected is equally dangerous. You will help us decide." 

"Okay…?" Ibnor waited for further explanation, but the figure remained silent. 

"Now you go." 

"Wha…" Ibnor didn't even have time to finish his question before he was hurled back into the void, the shadowy figure disappearing as abruptly as it had arrived. The darkness swallowed him once more, leaving him with a single, chilling thought echoing in the emptiness: What have I gotten myself into?