Marcus slumped against the library doors, squinting at the blinding afternoon sun. His head still swam from the glowing-book fiasco. He was disoriented and jittery, like he'd just been flashbanged by an ancient tome. "I'll tell the librarian about this…," he muttered, dusting himself off. Then he stopped mid-thought. "Nah, no one in their right mind would believe me. 'Oh hey, Mrs. Henderson, fun fact! Your dusty book just nuked my eyeballs!'"
Deciding self-preservation was the better route, Marcus shook his head and started his walk to the bus stop. As he meandered through the quiet streets, the faint burning sensation on the back of his right hand began to creep in again. He ignored it at first, thinking it was probably just stress, or maybe he'd brushed up against something weird in the library.
But when he finally reached the bus stop and sat down, the burning feeling became impossible to ignore. With a groan, Marcus pulled up his sleeve and inspected his hand. What he saw made his jaw drop:
A strange, glowing sigil was embedded into his skin, swirling faintly like some magical screensaver. Marcus blinked, rubbed his eyes, and then tried the most logical thing he could think of: he rubbed at it. Nothing happened.
"Okay, maybe it's… ink?" he mumbled. Gripping the edge of the mark, he tried peeling it off like a sticker. "Ow!" No luck. His skin stayed stubbornly attached.
Panic creeping in, Marcus rummaged through his backpack and pulled out his trusty water bottle. "Alright, weird tattoo or burn or whatever the hell you are—prepare for your doom," he growled dramatically. He poured the water over his hand, letting it trickle down his fingers and onto the concrete below.
The sigil? Still glowing. Still pulsing. Still mocking him.
"Are you serious?" Marcus hissed, drawing a few odd glances from an elderly lady nearby. He shot her a sheepish grin, muttering, "It's fine. Just… allergic to mystical nonsense."
Before he could descend into a full mental breakdown, the bus arrived. Swearing under his breath, Marcus climbed aboard, shoved his backpack into the seat next to him, and flopped down. The burning sensation continued to bother him like the world's most inconvenient itch, and he pressed the cold end of his water bottle against the sigil for relief. It helped—barely.
——-
By the time Marcus reached his college dormitory, the sigil felt like it was trying to brand itself into his soul. He dragged his tired body through the hallways and stopped short at the sight outside his dorm room: his roommate, Josh, sprawled on the floor like a human pretzel.
Marcus crouched down, poked him a couple of times, and even checked for a pulse. "Drunk again?" Marcus muttered, shaking his head. Sure enough, Josh reeked of booze and poor life decisions.
After a brief internal debate about leaving him there, Marcus sighed and hoisted Josh up, dragging him into their dorm. He tossed Josh onto his bed like a sack of potatoes, earning a sleepy groan in return.
"Glad to see you're alive, buddy," Marcus deadpanned before collapsing onto their couch.
With Josh snoring away, Marcus turned his attention back to the sigil. It glowed faintly on the back of his hand, its intricate lines and curves swirling like a miniature galaxy. Determined to figure out what was going on, Marcus grabbed his phone and started searching.
"Strange glowing tattoo that burns," he typed. Google's top suggestion:
See A Doctor Immediately.
"Yeah, no thanks," Marcus grumbled, scrolling further. The next result: "10 signs you've been cursed!" He clicked on it out of morbid curiosity but immediately regretted it when the page tried to sell him a $29.99 curse-breaking kit.
After what felt like hours of scrolling through forums, conspiracy theories, and a disturbingly specific article about alien abductions, Marcus gave up. "This is useless," he groaned, tossing his phone onto the couch.
The burning sensation flared up again, pulling his attention back to the mark. "Alright, let's try this another way," he muttered. Marcus walked over to the kitchen sink, turned on the cold water, and stuck his hand under the stream. The icy sting made him wince, but the sigil didn't budge. It just kept glowing defiantly, as if mocking his efforts.
"Seriously, what are you?" Marcus asked, rubbing his fingers across the mark. The texture was rough, almost like etched stone. Suddenly, the sigil began to pulse brighter.
Marcus froze. "Oh no. No, no, no—"
Before he could finish, the mark flared to life, emitting a soft hum. Sparks of light burst from the sigil, swirling into the air before forming glowing runes in front of him. The symbols hovered for a moment before shifting and expanding into…
A screen.
Marcus blinked. "What in the actual hell…?"
The screen looked like something straight out of a video game—bright, flashy, and utterly ridiculous. There were glowing buttons, a sparkling animated banner at the top, and in big, obnoxious letters:
[ONE FREE PULL! RARE SUMMON GUARANTEED!]
Marcus stared at it, his brain struggling to keep up. "Is this… a gacha game?"
The banner featured some fantastical, over-designed characters—knights, wizards, and what looked like a sentient talking sword—all posing dramatically. Beneath it, a giant golden button blinked invitingly, practically begging to be pressed.
Marcus squinted, muttering, "This cannot be real." He waved his hand in front of the screen, hoping it was some weird hallucination. The screen shimmered and dissolved into tiny particles of light, disappearing as quickly as it had appeared.
He stared at his hand. The sigil's glow faded until it was just a faint outline, as if nothing had happened.
Marcus slumped against the counter, rubbing his temples. "I need a nap. And maybe a therapist."
From behind him, Josh let out a loud snore, muttering something unintelligible in his sleep. Marcus sighed, glancing at the mark again.