Chapter 1

Orion Graves was born on a cold October morning in Brooklyn, New York. He came into the world screaming, as if he already knew life wouldn't be simple. His father, Daniel Graves, was the kind of man who made people feel safe—broad-shouldered, quick to laugh, and even quicker to throw a punch if the situation demanded it. His mother, Sophia, was softer, a woman who spoke with her eyes more than her mouth, always watching, always worrying.

For the first eight years of Orion's life, things were normal. Or at least, as normal as they could be. His father worked construction, his mother was a nurse, and their apartment—small but never empty—was filled with the sounds of late-night TV and home-cooked meals. It wasn't perfect, but it was home.

Then, his father died.

A car accident. Late at night. No warning. One moment, Orion had a dad; the next, he had a funeral. At eight years old, he didn't fully understand it. He just knew things changed. His mom cried more. The apartment felt emptier. And something inside him—something he didn't have the words for—shifted.

For a while, he was just angry. Angry at the world, at the unfairness of it all. But grief wasn't just rage—it was boredom, too. A quiet, creeping numbness. School didn't matter. Grades didn't matter. Nothing seemed real in the way it had before. So, Orion did the only thing that made sense.

He escaped.

It started with comic books. Marvel, DC—stories of heroes, gods, and monsters. Orion devoured them, flipping through pages late into the night, imagining himself swinging between skyscrapers, standing against impossible odds, mattering. Then came anime and manga. He binged Attack on Titan, One Punch Man, Naruto—stories where ordinary people became legends.

But the real addiction? Fan fiction.

There was something about what if stories that fascinated him. The idea that things could be rewritten, that characters could break free from what the world demanded of them. He read them obsessively, late at night on his phone, losing himself in alternate universes where fate wasn't set in stone.

As he grew older, the obsession faded, but it never fully left. The stories shaped him. Gave him a mind that thought in what ifs. A brain that saw possibilities where others saw limits.

By the time Orion hit high school, he had become a contradiction. Too smart to be average, too lazy to be exceptional.

His intelligence was effortless—an instinct, not a skill. He could ace tests with minimal effort, but he never did more than necessary. Just enough to pass. Just enough to stay sufficient. Teachers hated it. They saw the potential, the mind that could have been something extraordinary, and they resented him for wasting it.

Socially, he was the same. Not the most popular guy, but known. Good-looking in a way that turned heads but didn't drop jaws. Just enough charm to keep people interested, just enough distance to keep them guessing. He stood at about 180 cm (5'11"), with dark hair that hung just above his eyes, usually messy in a way that looked effortless. His dark eyes were often distant, as though his mind was always somewhere else. He was lean, with a toned body that gave the impression of quiet strength rather than showy muscle. He had a jawline that could cut glass, but he rarely cared to flaunt it.

He had friends—a solid group of them. Caleb, Jace, Ava, a few others. They hung out after school, played video games, went to parties when invited. Orion had been in relationships before—nothing too serious, nothing that lasted. Girls liked him well enough, but he never let anyone get too close.

It wasn't that he didn't care. It was just easier to pretend he didn't.

That was Orion Graves in every way: effortless, detached, just enough but never too much.

At fourteen, Orion started working out. Not for sports, not for some desperate need to be stronger—just because he liked pushing himself. He liked the feeling of getting better at something, the quiet challenge of it. His routine wasn't obsessive, but it was consistent. Weights, calisthenics, cardio. He never aimed to be the biggest guy in the room, but he was lean, toned, stronger than he looked.

It gave him an edge, especially when fights broke out. Brooklyn wasn't always peaceful. He'd gotten into scuffles before—nothing serious, nothing life-changing. But he could handle himself. He was never the one who started trouble, but he wasn't the type to back down, either.

At fifteen, he had his first cigarette. Not because he wanted to be a smoker, but because he wanted to feel something different. He liked the way the smoke curled into the sky, how the burn settled in his lungs. He never made a habit of it, but he smoked when he felt like it—on rooftops, after long nights, whenever the world felt a little too still.

His mother didn't know. His stepfather wouldn't have cared. They had an understanding: as long as Orion didn't fail out of school or get arrested, he could do whatever he wanted.

So, he did.

He stayed out late, but never too late. He drank when it was offered, but never too much. He did just enough to blend in, to be normal, while always feeling like he was standing at the edge of something bigger.

At seventeen, Orion had everything he needed to live the rest of his life comfortably unnoticed. He had friends, a decent home, a mind that could carry him anywhere if he ever chose to use it.

But he was bored.

He felt it every day, gnawing at the edges of his mind—the sense that something was missing. That there was more, but he couldn't see it yet. He ignored it, drowned it out with distractions. But it never really left.

Something was coming.

He just didn't know what.

10 Minutes Before the Voice

Orion sat on the rooftop of his apartment, a cigarette between his fingers, his phone buzzing beside him. The city stretched out below, loud and restless.

The group chat was alive.

Caleb: Bro, you studying for the math test?

Ava: You already know the answer to that.

Caleb: Fair.

Jace: Y'all ever think about how we're probably living in a simulation?

Ava: Not this again.

Orion: If we are, whoever's running it is doing a shit job.

He smirked, taking a slow drag before exhaling into the night air. Brooklyn was loud, messy, alive. But up here, it was quiet.

Another buzz.

Caleb: Alright, but real talk, if the world was ending tomorrow, what would you do?

Jace: Survive. Obviously.

Ava: Spend time with my family.

Orion: …

He stared at the screen for a second, then typed:

Orion: Dunno. Guess I'd wait and see how it plays out.

The answer came sooner than he expected.

Because at that moment, the world went silent.

And a voice spoke.

"People of Earth. You have been chosen."