???
The sound was getting unbearable.
Ding.
Ding.
Ding.
One after another, the teams locked in their shelters, and the notifications filled the simulation, each one ringing out like a nail in Orion's chances of winning. The moment the competition had started, everyone had been in motion, dropping through the void like shooting stars, twisting and turning mid-air, using momentum and skill to land on the floating shelters before anyone else could claim them.
Orion, Rin, and Cas had barely made it to their first shelter when the realization set in: they were falling behind.
Ding.
Ding.
The noise chipped away at Orion's focus. He could hear it from every direction, a constant stream of confirmations as other teams secured their shelters. His team had taken their first one—but it wasn't enough. With the number of teams in play and the rate at which shelters were being claimed, they weren't just losing ground; they were losing the entire game.
"Orion, we need to move!" Rin shouted, adjusting her stance as the shelter beneath them swayed slightly in the endless void. "There's another one up ahead—"
"—Already taken," Cas cut in, scanning the distance. "We're running out of options."
Ding.
Ding.
The sound dug into Orion's mind, his fingers curling into fists. "This isn't working," he muttered.
He could feel the weight of their failure setting in. The game was designed to be fast, ruthless. It wasn't just about survival—it was about outpacing everyone else, and right now, they weren't even close.
Ding.
Ding.
His head snapped up. Another shelter gone.
His patience snapped with it.
"THIS IS NOT REAL!!" Orion shouted.
The words ripped out of him, raw and frustrated. He didn't think—he just felt. The sheer unfairness of it all, the inevitability of their loss, the fact that the entire game was built on rules that dictated what they could and couldn't do. But something about that thought—about rules—felt wrong.
Because he was dreaming.
And dreams weren't supposed to follow rules.
The moment the words left his mouth, the entire simulation shuddered.
Then, for half a second, silence.
Then—
DING. DING. DING. DING.
A cacophony of chimes exploded through the void. Shelters—claimed and unclaimed—began flashing wildly. The simulation flickered like a glitching screen. Every single notification started ringing in their favor, faster than Orion's brain could even register.
DING.
Orion's team has claimed a shelter.
DING.
Orion's team has claimed a shelter.
DING. DING. DING.
It didn't stop.
"What—" Rin started, eyes wide.
Cas grabbed Orion's arm. "What did you just do?"
Orion barely heard them. He was watching the world break around him.
Shelters that had already been taken by other teams flipped ownership instantly. Some even duplicated, appearing in places they hadn't been before. The floating platforms that had once been scattered so sparingly across the void were now everywhere, surrounding them like stars in a night sky.
More than that—they all belonged to Orion's team.
One by one, the other teams started vanishing, blinking out of the simulation like their existence had been erased. The void itself seemed to bend and twist around Orion's presence, acknowledging something he hadn't even fully understood himself.
Then—
The simulation ended.
----
Orion hit the ground hard.
It took him a second to realize he was no longer falling. The sensation of endless descent had vanished, replaced by the solid floor of the competition arena. Around him, the other students groaned as they landed, confused and dazed. Some were sprawled out, blinking up at the artificial lights overhead. Others were already sitting up, looking around in bewilderment.
The first sound to break the silence was Rin's breathless, "What just happened?"
No one had an answer.
The board members, the professors—no one was watching the simulation.
The only sign that the game had ended was the massive scoreboard that flickered to life above them.
1st Place – Team Purple (Orion, Cas, Rin)
A sharp, shocked gasp rippled through the crowd.
People started whispering, their voices rising in disbelief.
"How—?"
"They weren't even—"
"What the hell just happened?!"
Orion pushed himself up, his hands still shaking. His mind was spinning, trying to make sense of what he had just done. He hadn't hacked the simulation. He hadn't manipulated the system like Neil might have.
He had just… said it wasn't real.
And the dream had listened.
Cas turned to him, her expression unreadable. "Orion," she said carefully, "what exactly did you do?"
"I—" He hesitated. He didn't know. The words had come out without thinking, but in that moment, something had clicked inside of him. Something fundamental about dreams, about reality itself.
And for some reason, it had obeyed him.
Before he could answer, a new message flashed across the scoreboard.
Simulation Results: ERROR.
The murmurs in the crowd turned into full-on chatter.
"An error? That's never happened before."
"Was the system hacked?"
"Someone needs to explain what just happened!"
Professor Reya finally stepped forward, her sharp eyes scanning the room. "Quiet," she ordered. The crowd immediately stilled. She turned toward the officials monitoring the tournament. "Who was overseeing the simulation?"
Silence.
No one had been watching.
One of the assistants checked the logs, her face pale. "There's… no recorded footage," she said hesitantly. "No replay data. It's like the system itself didn't register what happened."
That sent another wave of confusion through the crowd.
"Then how did the game end?" someone muttered.
Professor Reya's gaze swept over the students, trying to piece things together. But with no footage, no witnesses, and no logical explanation, the game had ended itself—or so it seemed.
Meanwhile, Orion stood frozen.
Cas and Rin were staring at him. They knew.
They were the only ones close enough to hear what he had said. The only ones who had seen the instant change when Orion had snapped.
Cas exhaled, muttering under her breath, "This just got a whole lot more interesting."
Orion forced himself to stay still, even as the weight of it all settled over him. Nobody else knew what happened. The professors, the board members, the other students—they were all scrambling for answers.