Chapter 1: You’ve Been Chosen

It started with a ping.

Not a message. Not a call.

Just a ping—sharp, synthetic, and wrong, like a sound that shouldn't exist in this world.

Alec Kim blinked at his retinal HUD. No new notifications. No apps open.

But there it was: a pulsing, red terminal icon hovering in the corner of his vision.

[THE TERMINAL]

> Press to begin.

He hadn't downloaded anything. He was sure of it.

No hacked files. No pirated streams. No rogue neural feeds.

Just another late night alone in his capsule flat, watching influencer drama spiral out of control.

The icon didn't move, didn't fade.

When he tried to blink it away, it pulsed brighter.

And then, in neat glowing font:

You've been chosen.

Alec's breath caught. His heart ticked faster.

He opened his palm, fingers trembling. The icon followed, hovering in midair like it was stitched into his reality.

> One minute of your lifespan = Entry. Accept?

"What the hell…"

He laughed. Or tried to. But his throat stayed tight.

This had to be some marketing ploy. Viral AR ad. Maybe even a prank mod dropped by one of the dev forums he lurked on. But the interface… it was too advanced. Seamless. Like the icon had hacked into the space behind his eyes.

The air in the capsule felt heavier.

His fingertip hovered over the red pulse.

It's just a minute, he thought.

He'd wasted more time than that scrolling feeds that left him emptier than before.

He tapped.

The world blinked.

Just once.

Everything in his flat froze for half a second—like the stream of time stuttered.

Then came the voice.

Flat, feminine, emotionless.

"Welcome to The Terminal. Your remaining time: 67 years, 4 months, 22 days."

"What…?"

Alec staggered back. His vision swam.

In the corner of his HUD, a new icon appeared: a ticking clock.

[67:04:22:00:00]

Every second counted down.

His life, quantified.

The interface shifted again.

> First Task: WIN or be ERASED.

> Challenge begins in 3… 2… 1…

The lights in his room cut out.

Everything went black—except the glowing red countdown.

And Alec realized something terrifying.

He couldn't remember what he was doing five minutes ago.

Or yesterday.

Or the name of his roommate.

Or… if he even had one.

The Terminal had already taken more than a minute.

It had taken something deeper.

The darkness wasn't just absence.

It was presence. Thick and humming, like standing in the center of a server room alive with a billion whispering wires.

Alec reached out.

Nothing.

No walls. No air. No floor.

But he was still standing. Still breathing—he thought.

Then, a screen materialized in front of him, hovering in the void.

Sleek. Neon-edged. Black background, red type.

[ROUND ONE INITIATED]

Challenge: Pattern Recognition

Time Limit: 60 seconds

Wager: 1 minute of life

Reward: Neural Boost – Temporary Hyperfocus (24 hours)

BEGIN.

A flood of lights surged from the darkness—flashes of color, rhythm, shape. A rapid-fire sequence across the screen. Red. Blue. Green. Yellow. Red. Yellow. Red.

Alec's mind raced to keep up.

Then it cut off.

"Repeat the pattern."

He froze.

The pressure was suffocating. His mind felt like static.

But the numbers in the corner of his HUD were ticking down.

00:59

00:58

00:57

Panic flared. But somewhere beneath it, a strange calmness spread through him.

A sharpness.

The colors danced again in his head. In perfect clarity.

He began to tap the air in sequence:

Red. Blue. Green. Yellow. Red. Yellow. Red.

The screen shimmered. A quiet chime.

Correct.

His lungs deflated like he'd been underwater.

Then came the next wave. Twice as long. Faster. More chaotic.

This time, the colors bled together.

"Thirty seconds remaining."

He blinked—and something happened.

The pattern was just… there. Like it had been carved into his brain.

His hands moved before he thought. The answer flowed out of him.

Correct.

The voice returned.

"Challenge complete. Reward granted. Remaining time: 67 years, 4 months, 20 days."

Wait.

That wasn't right.

He'd only bet one minute.

So why had he lost two days?

His chest tightened.

The screen dissolved into code, fluttering like dying pixels.

Then—his room returned.

His capsule flat. His bed. His screen. His walls.

All exactly where he'd left them. But colder. Smaller.

The HUD remained. So did the countdown clock.

And a new icon: a glowing red circuit wrapped in a crown.

NEURAL BOOST ACTIVE – 23:59:48

He stood up, breathing fast.

The lights were normal again. The world was still.

But the silence now… it wasn't empty.

It was waiting.

On the wall where there had been nothing before, he saw a line of text.

It wasn't on his screen. It was physically burned into the wallpaper.

"Those who lose are forgotten. Remember yourself while you still can."

Alec didn't sleep.

Couldn't.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the timer.

Every second shaved away a fraction of his life, and he could feel it. Not just the anxiety of mortality—but the presence of the game inside him, rewriting something invisible.

He tested himself. Memory drills. Childhood flashbacks. Names of old classmates.

But there were gaps.

Whole patches of his past missing—like torn-out pages from a diary he didn't remember writing.

He opened the Terminal HUD again.

[Your Time: 67:04:20:12:13]

[Level: 1]

[Win Streak: 1]

[Leaderboard Rank: N/A]

New text blinked onto the screen.

> You are now visible.

> Invitations Sent.

Alec stared at those words for a long time.

Visible?

To who?

His answer came a moment later.

Another ping.

But this time, it wasn't in his HUD.

It came from his door.

A soft knock.

He turned toward it, heart thudding. No one ever knocked in the capsule zone. They barely made eye contact in the halls. The doors were biometric-locked. Private.

The knock came again. Louder.

He stood, slowly, pulse racing, and checked the cam feed.

Nothing.

Just static.

He opened the door anyway.

No one was there.

But on the floor was a package. Thin. Black. Sealed in wax with the same crown circuit symbol burned into it.

He picked it up with shaking hands and tore it open.

Inside: a card.

One line written in ink that shimmered like old blood.

"Play with me or be forgotten too."

And underneath, a username.

[Vera//Null]

Alec's HUD pinged again.

His friends list—which had been empty for years—now had one contact.

Vera//Null. Online.

He tapped the name.

A face blinked in.

A girl, maybe 19. Dark hair. Piercing eyes. And a thin scar running from her temple to the corner of her lip.

She stared into the screen like she could see him through it.

"You've only won once," she said flatly. "That makes you a baby."

Alec swallowed. "What is this?"

She smirked, cold and tired. "This is the only game that matters."

"What happens if I stop playing?"

The screen glitched. Static bled across her face.

Then she leaned in, voice hollow.

"Then you vanish. Like my brother. Like my name."

The feed cut.

And Alec realized—he didn't remember his own mother's voice.

Not her face.

Not even if she was still alive.