Dayu Turner felt like a man trapped in emptiness. Suspended between two worlds, between two nationalities, between two cultures. Ascension was his destiny, but now, more than ever, the idea of "rising" filled him with dread. His body, physical, was sitting in an airplane flying high in the sky, but his mind felt further than ever. Ascension Island. His home away from home. His refuge. An island that belonged to him, yet felt more and more foreign every time he returned.
The plane cabin was silent, except for the hum of the engines and the occasional announcements from the captain. Dayu paid little attention to them, his gaze fixed out the window. The sky above was thick with gray clouds, as if the earth itself were breathing, trying to hold its breath in anticipation of something unknown. The surface of the sea below looked like a stretch of liquid metal. The same sea that had seemed so alive when he swam in it as a child, now felt distant, almost threatening.
A return to the past. This trip wasn't just a routine flight, it was a deep need to reconcile with a part of himself he had always avoided. A return to a place that had never truly felt like home, but that in some way was forced upon him by fate, by biology, and by circumstances. Dayu had always lived with the weight of his name, of his being half-Japanese and half-British. His mother, Keiko, had always urged him not to forget his Eastern roots, while his father, Edward, had raised him with the idea that "honor" lay in serving his country, in being part of something greater. But Dayu could never find a balance between these two identities. He always felt like he was living two parallel lives, unable to fully merge the aspects of his heritage.
When the plane began its descent toward the Royal Air Force Station, a cold feeling of disconnection swept over him. Dayu looked out and saw the island slowly emerging from the clouds, its familiar geography taking shape below him. Ascension Island, a tiny, isolated technological outpost where humanity pushed its limits in space research. There was no place like this small patch of land, yet he could never feel truly tied to it like many others would. It wasn't his home. It wasn't truly any home.
As the aircraft touched down with a slight vibration, a sense of cold alienation filled him. Dayu looked outside again, but saw no one. No colleagues. No parked cars. No movement. It was strange. Not that Ascension Island was a metropolis, but usually, the base was a constant hub of activity for engineers, scientists, and aerospace technicians. Yet, at that moment, the only sound he could hear was his own breath. The sound of his heart slowly thumping, as if it too were trying to adapt to a different rhythm.
He sighed, pushing away the discomfort creeping into him. His pace grew more determined as he approached the main entrance to the station. Maybe it was just a delay or a shift change. Maybe he was just used to thinking that something always went wrong every time he came back here.
The door slid silently as he pushed it open, and the interior of the station appeared deserted. His gaze moved over the empty corridors, the fluorescent lights flickering above him. The onboard computers, typically always active, were shut down. Every desk empty, every monitor turned off, every chair out of place. No noise, no voices.
"Hello? Is anyone here?" Dayu called out, his voice echoing unnervingly in the silence.
No response.
Dayu advanced through the silence, his footsteps echoing too loudly. Every corner he turned seemed unchanged, yet everything around him seemed to subtly distort, as if the world itself were slowly dissolving. When he reached the control room, the door was ajar. Pushing it open, he entered.
The flickering lights of the screens reflected off his hands as he tried to make sense of what was happening. But there was nothing rational to understand. The communication system was silent. The surveillance cameras showed no movement. A visceral terror pressed against his chest.
"Am I... alone?" he muttered to himself, half in disbelief. "Where is everyone?"
Then, suddenly, something happened.
A tremor passed through the floor, a faint vibration that hummed in the air, and Dayu stopped. He looked outside the window. The sky, usually blue and clear over the island, now showed thin cracks, like glass shattering. Reality, the world itself, seemed to lose consistency. Everything around him began to crumble, piece by piece, as if the universe was a poorly assembled puzzle slowly falling apart.
There was no logical explanation. Only chaos. The air seemed to slip away from his nostrils. Yet his mind was clear. As if he knew he would never see the world the same way again.
"What's happening?!" he shouted, unable to contain the panic rising in his chest.
The world was dying, but Dayu had no idea why.
Dayu stood motionless in the control room, his gaze fixed on the screens that displayed no activity. The fluorescent lights flickered above him, casting an eerie shadow across his features. The sound of his footsteps, echoing in the empty corridors, seemed distant, as if the island itself was trying to whisper something it couldn't say.
"It can't be... this isn't possible," he muttered under his breath, his hands gripping the inactive keyboards. Every thought, every rational conclusion seemed to evaporate as the atmosphere grew heavier and more oppressive. It felt as though the very air was becoming dense, suffocating, hard to breathe.
The tremor he had felt earlier hadn't stopped. Dayu lifted his gaze. The floor seemed to ripple beneath his feet. Not a physical movement, but a distortion that negated stability. The wall before him began to ripple as if it were liquid struggling to maintain its shape. A shiver ran down his spine. It couldn't be real. There had to be a scientific explanation, some malfunction in the systems.
Barely maintaining his balance, Dayu moved toward the window, his hands trembling. He looked outside, but the scene that greeted him was surreal. The sky, normally blue and clear, now showed thin cracks, like glass starting to shatter. A shadow moved rapidly across the surface, as if an unseen nightmare were swallowing it whole.
"It can't be..." he repeated, but this time, his voice trembled with fear. There was no answer, no logical explanation. The reality around him was changing, unraveling. And with it, his sense of control, his certainty of what he knew.
Another tremor ran through the station, this one stronger. Dayu felt the ground vibrate beneath him, and a crack appeared suddenly in the wall of the control room. The flickering fluorescent lights cast erratic shadows, amplifying the sense of disorientation.
His heart beat loudly in his chest. He had no idea what was happening, but a primal instinct told him that something much larger than himself was taking shape around him. Not just the island. Not just the station. The entire world seemed to be involved.
Dayu's mind raced. He couldn't think of destruction. He couldn't surrender to madness. He had to understand, he had to find an explanation. He needed answers. And the only place he could find them was at the heart of the station, the advanced research area, the center where the most complex space phenomena were studied.
He turned toward the door, but when he touched it, the entire building seemed to vibrate more intensely. The door creaked open, but inside, the room looked... different. Not as he had left it. The screens that normally displayed data and research diagrams had been replaced by floating, indistinct images, swaying like blurred shadows.
Dayu moved slowly toward them, but before he could reach the center of the room, a voice made him jump.
"You've returned…"
The voice didn't come from any specific location. It was as if it was in the air itself, an echo that seemed to adapt to his very mind.
"Who... who's there?" he asked, his voice trembling.
There was no reply. Only silence. A silence so heavy with tension, it felt as though even the world itself was holding its breath.
Dayu turned again toward the window, looking out at the horizon. The island, the sky, the ocean... everything seemed to be shattering before his eyes, as if time and space were losing their consistency, giving way to an unknown void.
Another tremor. Stronger.
The cracks in the sky widened, as if some invisible force was trying to piece together a world that was falling apart. But there were no more rules, no logic to follow. And yet, deep in his heart, Dayu felt he was about to uncover the truth. And that truth would change everything.
"What's happening?" he whispered, more to himself than to anyone else.
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Information box
Dayu Turner: Age: 21 years old Gender: Male Eyes: Dark brown, almost black. His eyes are intense and penetrating, reflecting a certain introspection and a constantly active mind. When he looks at someone or something, it feels like he's trying to understand much more than what appears on the surface. Hair: Black, straight, and medium length. Dayu's hair is tidy but with a natural air, not requiring too much effort. He typically keeps it slightly longer on the sides, but the fringe remains short on his forehead. His look is simple yet not entirely perfect, reflecting his pragmatic and sometimes laid-back character. Height: 5'10" (1.78m). Build: Lean, but slightly muscular. His build is lean and agile, with subtle muscle tone that betrays years of physical training. He doesn't have the sculpted body of an athlete, but he possesses the strength and endurance needed for the demanding work he does in a challenging environment. Clothing Style: Dayu prefers practical, functional clothing, often in dark tones like grey and black. While working, he wears a lab suit or a space agency uniform from his aerospace station, complete with a jacket, pants, and comfortable boots. Outside of work, he dresses simply: dark jeans, casual shirts, and light jackets. His style is minimalist and discreet, reflecting his pragmatic approach to life.
Edward Turner: Dayu's father Keiko Yamamoto: Dayu's mother