1

Phil woke up on a morning that felt like any other, with the overwhelming sense that the grind of daily life was slowly suffocating him. The alarm clock blared relentlessly, that sharp, jarring sound that had become part of his daily nightmare. His head felt heavy, his eyes burned with exhaustion, and for a brief moment, he considered just silencing the alarm and returning to sleep. But he knew he couldn't. The day had already started without him.

With a sigh, he reached for his phone. The screen illuminated the dark room, and his eyes struggled to focus. "Damn it, I'm late," he muttered to himself. The weight of those words settled heavily on his shoulders. He was always late. Always chasing the clock, but never catching up. He dragged himself out of bed with effort, feeling his muscles protest the movement. His body seemed to be on autopilot, while his mind was still trying to process the reality of another day beginning with no rest.

He shuffled to the bathroom, peeling off his clothes, the cold tile floor biting at his bare feet. The water from the shower was a brief, fleeting relief, but it couldn't chase away the exhaustion that clung to him like a second skin. He closed his eyes under the stream, trying to clear his mind, but the weight of everything pressing down on him wouldn't let go.

When he finished, he stood in front of the mirror, eyes heavy and unfocused. His brown eyes stared back at him, but they were sunken, distant, filled with a fatigue that no amount of sleep could fix. The dark circles beneath them only seemed to deepen the hollow look in his face. His pale skin, once a neutral shade, now looked sickly, almost ghostly. He sighed again, but this time it was louder, as if the sound itself could somehow release the frustration building inside him. "This life is killing me," he muttered softly, barely hearing his own voice. "I need a vacation."

He barely looked at his reflection before hastily grabbing the first set of clothes he could find. It didn't matter what he was wearing; he just needed to get out of here, out of his own head. His apartment, much like his life, was a mess. The kitchen was cluttered with yesterday's dishes—plates, cups, silverware—some piled higher than others, as if they were trying to keep track of how many days had passed since they were last washed. A few papers were scattered across the table, abandoned in the rush of time. Two diplomas hung crookedly on the wall, dusty, their frames out of alignment, a silent mockery of the ambitions he had once had.

He grabbed his keys, locked the door behind him, and headed out into the street. The air outside was cold, but it barely registered as he walked through the familiar streets. The noise of the city, the constant flow of people, cars honking, voices murmuring, it all blurred together into an unrecognizable hum. Something felt off, like the world around him was subtly shifting, changing, as if reality itself was beginning to warp.

A strange sensation crept up his spine. His body grew heavy, his limbs suddenly stiff. He stopped, a shiver running through him, and for a moment, he couldn't tell if it was the cold air or something else. He tried to shake it off, but it wasn't just the chill. The world around him seemed to pulse, as if it was breathing, and his vision blurred for a second, a dizzying wave of vertigo taking hold of him.

Before he could process what was happening, the sensation intensified, and then—without warning—a blinding red light shot down from the sky, moving faster than anything he could comprehend. It was as if the very air was bending around it. The light grew brighter, more intense, until it consumed him entirely. In an instant, he vanished, the world around him gone, as if it had never been there to begin with.

...

Phil was sleeping deeply—probably the best sleep of his entire life. It felt like he was floating on clouds, far away from the exhaustion of his daily grind. But something began to disturb his peace. He felt someone shaking his shoulder. At first, he ignored it, sinking back into the blissful void, but the shaking grew stronger and more insistent.

"Hey! Wake up!" a voice whispered nervously.

Phil groaned but kept his eyes shut. When the shaking didn't stop, he finally snapped.

"Hey! What's your problem?!" he barked, sitting up abruptly, his face twisted in frustration.

In front of him stood a teenage girl, no older than 17, with curly hair and wide, nervous eyes. The moment she saw the fury on Phil's face, she instinctively took two steps back.

Phil wasn't done. "Do you know what you've done? I've been waiting for a sleep like that my entire life! And you just—what? Decided to ruin it for me?"

"I—I'm sorry," the girl stammered, clearly taken aback. "It's just that... everyone else woke up hours ago, and I thought—"

"Oh, so now it's a crime to sleep, huh? What's next? You gonna fine me for breathing too? Unbelievable!" Phil ranted, throwing his hands up in exasperation.

"That's enough," a deep, commanding voice boomed from behind him.

Phil froze mid-sentence, his irritation flaring anew as he spun around to confront the speaker.

"And who the hell do you think you a—"

The words caught in his throat as his eyes landed on the man standing a few meters away. He was massive—easily two meters tall—with broad shoulders and powerful muscles that practically bulged through his shirt. His golden-blond hair shimmered in the sunlight, and his sharp eyes bore into Phil with a mixture of disdain and authority.

Phil's anger drained away in an instant. He hesitated, his bravado faltering. A nervous chuckle escaped him. "Ahaha... I mean, uh... I wasn't, uh, trying to cause a scene or anything." He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, avoiding the man's gaze.

The man didn't move, his voice calm but cold. "Do you even realize where you are?"

Phil blinked, confused. "What are you talking about?"

The man simply gestured for him to look around.

Phil turned and finally took in his surroundings. He was standing in the middle of a vast, green field that stretched for what seemed like miles. Surrounding the field were enormous walls—colossal structures that loomed over him, easily over 40 meters high. The sunlight gleamed off their smooth surfaces, and there was no end to them in sight.

His mouth went dry. "What... where am I?" he whispered, his voice barely audible.

Suddenly transparent panel materialized in front of him, glowing faintly with text:

[Welcome, Phil, to the Labyrinth.

Remember: You are part of Team 335.

Your first challenge is to reach Area 9.

Time limit: 29 days, 22 hours, 45 minutes, and 33 seconds.

Good luck.]

The words lingered on the screen, and a soft, angelic voice repeated them in his ear, calm and unnervingly sweet. Before Phil could even process what he was reading or hearing, the panel disappeared as quickly as it had appeared, leaving only silence behind.

Phil blinked at the empty space where the panel had been, then scoffed. "This is ridiculous,"