Syal

More and more obscure times fall on a place known as district 42. Poverty can be seen everywhere you go. Misery resides in the lives of every citizen. A thin line is about to be crossed. The final battle will soon begin. On the one hand, those who value tradition, order; On the other, those who cry out for freedom. Everyone knows, although no one claims ... but the district flag will soon burn. However, in an event perhaps headed by fate, a soldier wakes up. A man transported from another world, plunging into all the Chaos spread over that place. Perhaps, the only man capable of extinguishing the flames of that cruel war.

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District 42

The darkness seemed to last forever. Casper was falling slowly into what seemed to be just a vacuum of shadows and black paint. He couldn't breathe at all, nor see his own limbs, feel, smell, taste…

In reality, he had a single dominating and strange feeling. It was like each part of his body was being destroyed and rebuilt several times, and very fast. Something similar to get together all the little fragments of a broken glass, just to break it again, then do the same thing over and over.

Each time that he visited that room, the moments into the darkness seemed to last for longer than the previous one. He didn't know why, but it probably had something to do with the machine trying to dig deeper and deeper into his memories, his personality, and his fears, to reproduce the simulation at its peak, verging on perfection.

Before he could notice what was happening, the soldier was looking to the ground, crouched, and holding firmly a pistol in his hand.

Defective simulation