Harry was already late, and the London Underground had apparently made a blood pact with the gods of inconvenience. The train was packed tighter than his inbox on a Monday, and a sudden jolt just gave his coffee the freedom it had always dreamed of—right onto his lap.
"Brilliant," he muttered, dabbing at his now two-tone trousers with a napkin that felt more symbolic than effective. "Great start. Spilled coffee and impending doom. Classic Tuesday."
He checked his watch again: 8:41 AM. The meeting starts at nine. If the universe had a personal vendetta against him, it was at least being consistent.
A voice piped up from behind him, laced with amusement. "You're going to wear a hole in that watch, you know."
Harry turned, eyebrows raised. "Susan. Just in time to witness my slow descent into corporate tragedy. Want to grab some popcorn?"
She laughed. "Only if it comes with a side of job security. You really think they'll fire you over a late train?"
"Not if I dazzle them with charm, caffeine stains, and crippling anxiety."
Before Susan could reply, the lights in the carriage flickered. Once. Twice. Then out.
A murmur swept through the train. Phones stopped working. The overhead announcements died mid-sentence, replaced by an eerie, electric silence. Harry looked up, squinting into the dimness.
"Okay," he said slowly. "Did we just enter a horror movie?"
The train came to a jolting stop halfway between stations, and the lights didn't come back on.
For a moment, no one spoke. The only sound was the soft groan of metal settling and the awkward shuffle of confused commuters.
"Okay, that's... not ideal," Susan said, glancing up at the dead ceiling lights.
"Power outage or demon summoning?" Harry offered. "Fifty-fifty, really."
Several phones lit up—only to fade instantly, like fireflies blinking out.
Harry tried his own. No signal. No apps. Just a black screen and a low hum, like it was holding its breath.
"Mine's dead," Susan said, frowning. "Yours?"
"Bricked," Harry replied, turning it over like it might magically reboot if stared at hard enough. "How very comforting."
They waited in silence. The kind of silence that didn't belong in London—the kind you only got in bad dreams or horror movies that ended poorly.
Eventually, a voice crackled through the intercom, so distorted it sounded like static had learned to speak.
"...delay... technical difficulties... remain calm..."
"Very reassuring," Harry muttered. "Why does every apocalypse start with a cheerful PA system lying to us?"
After twenty more minutes of sweaty, awkward tension, the train shuddered forward again. Lights sputtered back to life one by one. The air conditioning wheezed in surrender. People cheered half-heartedly, relief mingled with confusion.
By the time they reached the next station, Harry was already planning his apology to the client he was about to disappoint.
The moment Harry and Susan stepped out onto the street, something felt off.
London, even on its worst days, was noisy—sirens, engines, footsteps, chatter, construction, pigeons arguing over chips. But now?
Quiet.
No honking. No shouting. No wind, even. Just stillness. Like the city had paused mid-breath.
Harry blinked against the sudden light. The sky was clear, not a single cloud. It should've been beautiful. Instead, it felt... wrong. Too clean. Too calm.
"Why does it feel like we just stepped into a paused YouTube video?" he whispered.
Susan looked up. Then froze.
Harry followed her gaze—and his heart sank.
High above the city, a thin glowing crack had appeared in the sky. Just a sliver at first, like someone had scratched glass. But as they watched, it spread, slowly widening, jagged like lightning frozen in place.
The air changed—thickened. A low vibration trembled through the ground, the kind you felt more than heard.
Other people had stopped walking. Phones still wouldn't turn on. Cars stalled in the middle of intersections. A dog began barking madly, tugging at its leash. A baby started crying.
"What the hell is that?" someone whispered. No one answered.
Harry took a step forward. "Maybe it's... a projection? Some new AR tech?"
But even as he said it, he didn't believe it. It felt ancient. Wrong. Like it didn't belong to this world.
Then, the sky screamed.
It started as a low moan and rose into a deafening screech, a metallic wail that made people clutch their ears. A blinding white light surged from the crack, and for a second, everything went white—
—then black.
Silence.
Then, in front of every single person, a glowing blue screen appeared. Not a hologram. Not projected. It hovered in the air, two feet in front of their faces. No matter how they moved, it followed.
Harry stared, his pulse thundering in his ears.
There was no preamble. No explanation.
Just a single line of glowing text:
Do you have what it takes to save the world?
Below it, two options:
[ YES ] [ NO ]
A countdown appeared beneath the buttons.
00:00:59
"Is this... a joke?" Susan whispered.
Someone behind them muttered, "This is some kind of prank. It has to be."
But no one laughed.
The crowd buzzed with nervous energy, like static before a storm. People whispered, argued, cried. Some stared blankly at the screen hovering in front of them, hoping it would go away if they didn't blink.
The timer ticked down with merciless calm.
00:00:43
Harry glanced around. A businessman in a navy suit jabbed a finger at [ NO ], scowling. The screen disappeared instantly, and he sighed in relief—until his body began to glitch. Like a bad rendering in a video game. His form shimmered, his skin paling as he stumbled back in horror.
"What the—!?" he screamed, clutching his chest.
He didn't collapse. But he looked... less. Dimmer, like the world had turned him down a notch.
Harry's stomach twisted.
00:00:34
A young woman nearby closed her eyes and tapped [ YES ]. She gasped as light enveloped her. A book appeared in her hands—an actual book, leather-bound, ancient-looking, glowing faintly.
Then she screamed.
She dropped to her knees, gripping her head as her body pulsed with golden light. When it stopped, she was breathing heavily, hands shaking.
"I'm fine," she said, voice trembling. "I think I'm okay."
Harry stared. "This is not okay."
00:00:26
A child began crying. An older man tried to cover the screen with his jacket. It phased right through.
Susan, standing beside Harry, looked strangely calm. Her screen hovered in front of her like a challenge.
She gave him a sideways glance. "You know... if this is some kind of isekai setup, I'll be seriously pissed we didn't get hit by a truck first."
Harry barked out a nervous laugh. "Speak for yourself. I'm allergic to plot twists."
00:00:17
Susan didn't wait any longer. She tapped [ YES ] with one steady finger.
The glow enveloped her. She staggered, but didn't scream. Her fingers twitched. Her breathing slowed. Then, a shimmering window popped into existence beside her, displaying her name and a string of stats—just like a character sheet in an RPG.
Harry's heart pounded. He looked at his own screen.
00:00:12
He hesitated.
"What if this is a trick?" he said aloud, to no one in particular. "What if saying yes ruins us?"
"What if saying no means you're out of the game entirely?" Susan said gently. Her voice was steady, but her eyes glowed faintly now, lit by her still-open system screen. "You know what I always say, Harry…"
He rolled his eyes. "You say a lot of things."
Susan smiled. "Exactly. And right now, I say... trust your gut."
00:00:08
Harry stared at the two buttons. YES.NO.
It was absurd. Ridiculous. Impossible.
And yet.
He tapped [ YES ].
The world exploded in light.