Chapter 1: The Unexpected

Chapter 1: The Unexpected

I never imagined my life would take such a turn. Stepping off the bus, I offered the driver a quick "Thank you," and he smiled back—a fleeting gesture that barely registered in my mind. My thoughts were elsewhere, a mix of laziness and an odd sense of determination that only showed itself when it mattered most.

The university campus stretched out before me, a hive of activity. Students hurried to their classes, their chatter a constant buzz that blended with the chirping of birds. The sun shone brightly, casting a warm glow over everything—a picture-perfect day, cliché and mundane. I would have preferred to be back in bed, wrapped in the comfort of my blankets, but here I was, trudging toward the design unit building.

Passing by groups of students—both male and female—engaged in conversations, I couldn't help but feel like an outsider. Tutors and staff members wove through the crowd, their faces set in the resigned masks of routine. I was somewhere in between, just another face in the sea of students, neither exceptional nor invisible.

I liked it that way. It was easier to avoid the limelight when you were average: good-looking enough to blend in, smart enough to get by without too much effort that tire you out, and quiet enough to avoid unnecessary attention. I had perfected the art of gliding through life without making waves.

But there was one thing about me that didn't quite fit the mold: I had an interest in stories where the weak became strong. The tales of underdogs rising against all odds, surprising everyone with their hidden strengths. It was probably why I was always drawn to characters who started out like me but ended up extraordinary.

I walked past the food stalls, the smell of fried snacks and greasy fast food making my stomach churn. I never ate from those places—not because I was a health nut, but because I simply couldn't stomach food from strangers. It was either my mom's home cooking or pizza from the one place I trusted. Simplicity was key.

Adjusting the weight of my backpack, I felt the familiar heft of my sketchbooks and notes. "Just graduate," I reminded myself. "Get a stable job and a comfortable life." It wasn't a grand dream, but it was mine. And it was within reach—if I could just work harder and get through the daily grind.

As I neared the design unit building, I noticed a commotion up ahead. A group of students had gathered, their voices rising in a mixture of concern and confusion. I slowed my pace, curiosity piqued. I wasn't one to get involved unless specifically asked, but the tension in the air was hard to ignore.

Drawing closer, I saw what had everyone's attention: a girl lying on the ground, pale and unconscious. A thin line of blood trickled from her forehead. The sight made my stomach churn, and I felt a familiar dizziness wash over me. I swallowed hard, fighting the urge to vomit.

"Someone call an ambulance!" a voice shouted from the crowd, panic lacing every word.

"What happened?" I asked someone nearby, trying to keep my voice steady despite the slight tremor in my hands.

"She just collapsed," a guy beside me explained, his face ashen. "They were walking, and then she suddenly fell. No one knows why."

The girl was still breathing, her chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths. Anxiety crept up on me, the weight of the situation pressing down hard. My mind was calm and collected, but my body was a different story. My legs trembled slightly, and a cold sweat broke out on my back.

"Move aside, let me through!" A med student pushed through the crowd, kneeling beside the girl. He checked her pulse, his expression serious. "She needs help, fast."

I took a step back, trying to steady my breathing. This wasn't my problem. There were plenty of people here to help. I didn't need to get involved. But as I turned to leave, something caught my eye—her bag, spilled open on the ground. Among the scattered belongings was a sketchbook, its pages fluttering in the breeze.

"A design student, like me."

I hesitated, then bent down to gather her things. It seemed like the least I could do: a small act of assistance that wouldn't draw too much attention. As I picked up the sketchbook, I couldn't help but glance at the pages.

The drawings were extraordinary—detailed, imaginative, and far beyond what I could achieve. "Who was this girl?" I glanced back at her, lying still, and felt a pang of guilt. "I hope you will be fine."

"I'll take care of her stuff to the office," I said, stepping forward. The med student glanced at me, nodded, and turned his attention back to the girl.

As I stood there, clutching her sketchbook, a sense of foreboding settled over me. Something was happening, something that would change everything. And for the first time in a long time, I wasn't sure if I could just glide through it unnoticed. JUST A FEELING...

Before I moved, I glanced back at the girl. Her shallow breaths confirmed she was alive, yet her fragile state ignited a spark of dread within me. My mind became a battlefield, calm logic clashing with frantic thoughts of panic. Why did she collapse? There were no signs of a physical attack, perhaps a mental issue, but her sketching skills suggested otherwise.

Then suddenly, every fiber of my being screamed for me to retreat.

There, amidst the chaos, something else caught my eye. I noticed a shimmering distortion in the air, like heat waves rising from hot pavement. My heart skipped a beat as I realized what it was—a gate. The kind I'd seen in manga and movies, where unspeakable horrors often emerged.

Run. Now.

Instinct surged within me. My laptop bag felt heavy against my shoulder as I tightened my grip and shouted, "RUN AWAY! DANGER!" My voice cracked with urgency as I turned to sprint down the corridor. Some were bewildered and surprised, while others were nervous at my sudden warning, but I didn't care. I had helped by giving a warning, and there was no time to explain. The sight of the small gate expanding—a dark void stretching and becoming bigger—fuelled my panic.

Students stared at me in confusion and disbelief. Some began to gather their belongings, their faces pale and anxious. A few managed to follow, their movements quickening as the atmosphere grew more charged with fear. Then, out of nowhere, a wave and a roar from the gate grew louder, and I felt the building itself tremble beneath my feet.

"What is happening?" one student shouted, but the panic was overwhelming. The noise outside escalated into a cacophony of confusion, punctuated by a bone-jarring explosion that rattled the walls.

I didn't look back. My focus was solely on reaching the exit. The hallway twisted into a blur of chaos and fear as I pushed past other students, all of us caught in a frantic scramble. The air crackled with tension as the building's structure seemed to groan and shudder.

Bursting through the side door, I felt a rush of cold air hit my face. The campus outside was in disarray, students running in every direction. I joined the tide of fleeing bodies, my heart pounding as I continued to run. The distant roar of the gate echoed in my ears, a constant reminder of the danger behind me.

As I reached a quieter corner of the campus, I leaned against a wall, gasping for breath. My mind raced with questions, trying to make sense of the surreal events. The ordinary day I had been expecting was gone, replaced by an unsettling reality. The gate, the girl, the explosion—it was like a scene from a story I never wanted to be part of.

"Survive," I whispered to myself, trying to ground my fraying nerves. "Just survive."

With renewed determination, I took a deep breath and looked out at the horizon. The ordinary had slipped through my fingers, making way for an adventure that was anything but expected. Whatever lay ahead, I knew I had to face it—one step at a time.

Key Suggestions:Punctuation: Ensure consistent use of commas, particularly in compound sentences.Clauses: Add clarity to some sentences by restructuring them (e.g., "good-looking enough to blend in, smart enough…").Redundancies: Removed some redundancies for conciseness (e.g., "I took a step back, trying to steady my breathing" can be simplified).Transitions: Ensure smooth transitions between thoughts and actions to maintain reader engagement.

Overall, a fantastic start! Keep up the good work!

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This wasn't my problem. I didn't want to get involved, as that could lead to my name surfacing in police investigation records, even if I had no connection to the situation. I was eager to keep my history clean for future job prospects, and avoiding unnecessary complications was the best way to ensure that.

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Chapter 1: The Unexpected

I never imagined my life would take such a sudden, sharp turn. Stepping off the bus, I muttered a quick "Thank you" to the driver. He gave me a brief smile, one of those automatic, polite gestures that barely registered as I walked past. My thoughts were elsewhere—caught between a lazy sense of routine and a strange undercurrent of determination. I never expected much from the day, but sometimes life had a way of surprising you.

The university campus sprawled before me, buzzing with energy. Students hurried to their classes, their conversations mixing into a low hum that floated in the breeze. The sun shone brightly overhead, casting warm rays that made everything seem almost too perfect—a scene out of a cheesy college brochure. I would've preferred to be wrapped up in my blankets, letting the day slip away unnoticed. But instead, I found myself trudging toward the design unit building, my mind already drifting to my usual mantra: "Just graduate."

Weaving through the throng of students, I felt a familiar sense of detachment. I wasn't part of this. I never had been. Tutors passed by, their faces set in expressions of mild indifference, while groups of students laughed and chatted, caught up in their own worlds. I was a spectator, walking through the motions, always a step removed.

And I liked it that way.

Blending in was easy when you were good at being average. I was good-looking enough to not stand out, smart enough to get by without drawing attention, and quiet enough to avoid any unnecessary social entanglements. It was a system that worked for me, keeping life simple and manageable.

The smell of greasy food wafted from nearby stalls as I passed, my stomach turning in protest. Fried snacks, greasy chicken, and mystery noodles—none of it appealed to me. Not because I was overly health-conscious, but because I simply didn't trust food made by strangers. My mom's cooking or pizza from the one place I trusted—that was it.

As I adjusted the weight of my backpack, the familiar thud of sketchbooks and notes grounded me. "Just graduate," I reminded myself, my eyes fixed on the path ahead. "Get a stable job. Live a comfortable life." It wasn't a grand dream, but it was mine, and it was within reach—if I could just get through the daily grind.

Entering the design unit building, I moved toward the corridor that led to my classroom when something strange caught my attention. Up ahead, a group of students had gathered, their murmurs rising in a mix of confusion and alarm. My curiosity tugged at me, though I wasn't the type to get involved in every bit of campus drama.

As I approached, the reason for the commotion became clear. A girl lay sprawled on the ground, unconscious, her skin pale and lifeless. A thin line of blood trickled from her forehead, staining the pavement. My stomach lurched at the sight of blood, a familiar dizziness creeping in. I swallowed hard, fighting the sudden nausea.

"Someone call an ambulance!" a voice shouted, urgent and panicked.

I turned to the nearest student. "What happened?" My voice cracked, betraying the anxiety crawling up my spine.

"She just collapsed," the guy next to me replied, his voice shaking. His face was pale, eyes wide with shock. "One second she was fine, the next she just... fell. No one knows why."

The girl's chest rose and fell, her breathing shallow and uneven. A creeping sense of dread settled over me, making my heart race. I wasn't trained for this. I wasn't a hero. My legs felt weak, a cold sweat running down my back.

"Move aside, let me through!" A med student pushed his way to the front, dropping to his knees beside her. He checked her pulse, his face a mask of concentration. "She needs help, fast."

My instinct was to walk away and let the med student and others handle it. This wasn't my problem. Getting involved could lead to my name surfacing in police investigation records, even if I had no connection to the situation. I was eager to keep my history clean for future job prospects, and avoiding unnecessary complications was the best way to ensure that. But just as I turned to leave, something stopped me. Her bag had spilled open on the ground, its contents scattered—textbooks, pens, and a sketchbook, its pages fluttering in the wind.

A design student. Like me.

Without thinking, I bent down to gather her things. It was the least I could do. As I picked up the sketchbook, a few pages caught my eye. The drawings were beautiful—intricate, imaginative, and far beyond anything I could produce. I glanced back at her, lying still, and a pang of guilt hit me hard. Who was she? And what had happened to her?

"I'll take her stuff to the office," I offered, holding up the sketchbook.

The med student glanced at me quickly, then nodded, before returning his focus to the girl again, while others continued to mill around in confused clusters. I turned to leave, but a strange sensation crawled up my spine. A low hum in the air, almost imperceptible at first, but growing stronger by the second. I froze, scanning the area.

That's when I saw it.

Directly above the girl sprawled on the floor, the air shimmered—distorted, like the heat waves that rise from hot pavement. Except this wasn't heat. It was something else. Something wrong.

My heart skipped a beat. It looked like a gate, like the kind you'd see in manga or movies—an opening to somewhere dark, where nightmares waited.

"Run. Now."

Instinct kicked in, and I was already moving, my heart pounding in my chest. I tightened my grip on my bag, turning toward the crowd. "RUN! DANGER!" My voice cracked with urgency. Some students shot me confused looks, others hesitated, uncertain, but I didn't care. I had given a warning, and I had to get out.

Behind me, the shimmering gate expanded, warping the air around it, its dark void stretching wider. I pushed through the crowd, my panic catching like wildfire. Students who had seen it, too, began to run, their faces pale with fear.

Then came the sound—a deafening roar that sent a tremor through the ground. The building groaned, walls shaking as the gate continued to grow. A bone-rattling explosion echoed through the air, shattering the fragile calm of the afternoon.

I didn't look back. My only goal was to reach the exit.

The hallway twisted into chaos as students surged in every direction, their frantic movements colliding in a blur of confusion. The air buzzed with tension, every step a fight to escape the unseen threat.

Bursting through the side door, I stumbled into the open air, gasping for breath. The campus was in disarray—people screaming, running in every direction, some fell to the ground in sheer panic. I joined the tide of fleeing bodies, my heart hammering in my chest. The gate roared in the distance, its unnatural presence lingering like a nightmare that refused to fade.

I didn't stop running until I reached a quiet corner of the campus. Leaning against a sturdy wall to brace for the expected impact as others continued running, I sucked in deep breaths, my mind racing to make sense of what had just happened. Then the explosion happened, sending shards of debris flying and causing chaos around me. Thankfully, only one piece passed by, but it didn't come close to hitting me, and it appeared that everyone else was unhurt as the shards flew randomly.

It seemed the ordinary day I had expected had slipped through my fingers, replaced by something far more terrifying.

"Survive," I whispered to myself, trying to still the fear gnawing at my insides. "Just survive."

Whatever that thing was—whatever had caused it—I knew my life wouldn't be the same. The ordinary was gone. An unexpected adventure had begun, and whether I liked it or not, I had been pulled into its path.

With a steadying breath, I looked out at the horizon. Whatever came next, I would face it—one step at a time.