Ethan was halfway through scraping a layer of moss off his boots when his wristband buzzed again.
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[Notice: You've been scheduled for a Standard Performance Evaluation]
[Location: Administrative Wing, Room 5C]
[Time: 08:30 sharp – do not be late.]
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Standard? He squinted.
Standard evaluations weren't supposed to happen mid-tournament, especially not solo.
His name was the only one listed.
Jasper looked up from across the room, one hand still oil-slicked from tuning up their team's simulation capsule.
"You look like someone has just sent you a invite to your own funeral."
"I got called in for solo evaluation." Ethan held up the blinking wristband.
Jasper winced. "Yikes. That's not standard. That's like... pre-suspension level sketchy."
Iris glanced over from the wall where she'd been practicing interface hand signs. Her fingers paused mid-air.
"Be careful. If they offer you tea, don't drink it. If they smile too much, they're probably up to something."
Ethan gave a half-hearted grin. "Oh! what a great way to comfort."
Next Morning.
He showed up early.
Mostly so he could breathe a little slower before walking in.
The hallway was eerily quiet and polished, like a space where voices echoed too clearly and footsteps sounded like accusations.
Room 5C had no label. Just a silent panel that blinked once and let him in.
Inside, the air smelled like filtered pine and something sterile. A woman he didn't recognize sat at a minimalist desk.
She wasn't wearing a school badge, or something.
She looked young, but not in the typical way—more like someone who'd seen way more than her age should've allowed.
"Ethan Thorne," she said with a perfectly neutral smile. "Take a seat."
He did, even though the chair was just uncomfortable enough to keep him on edge.
"I'm Lira. I work with the World Authority's Department of Realm Integrity," she said. "This is just a routine check-in, of course."
"Right. Just a routine." Ethan muttered under his breath.
She didn't blink.
"Tell me about your realm," she said.
Ethan hesitated. "Uh, what exactly do you want to know?"
Lira's smile stayed steady. "Everything. Start from the seed."
He began talking.
About the polluted ground, the sapling card, how at first nothing grew, the sludge, the loneliness.
He skipped the part where the roots moved without command and how his dreams smelled like soil sometimes.
Lira nodded along, listening carefully.
"You've made some unconventional choices, it seems." she said quietly.
"They were… the only ones I had," Ethan admitted.
"Not quite right," she replied. "But you made them anyway."
She tapped a small cube on her desk, which projected a rough 3D image of his realm—dirt-covered, jagged, but glowing faintly at the center.
"You understand that some anomalies aren't just bugs, right." she said. "Sometimes, the realm responds to the creator. Mirrors their intentions, fears and will."
Ethan swallowed.
"I didn't mean to create anything weird."
She smiled, softly. "But you did."
The cube flickered once, then again.
Ethan noticed something—barely visible. A shimmer in the roots, like a pulse matching his breath.
Lira saw his eyes flicker.
She leaned in slightly.
"Tell me, Ethan," she said softly, "have you ever felt like your realm was… watching you?"
The words landed like a stone dropped into a still pond.
Ethan didn't answer.
He couldn't.
The silence stretched just long enough to feel heavy and loud at the same time.
Finally, she stood.
"We'll be in touch. For now… keep growing."
As she opened the door, Ethan remained seated in the chair, staring at the flickering cube still floating above her desk.
One last flash before it vanished completely.
And then he was alone.
With one thought stuck in his head—
It knows me.
The hallway felt colder on the way out.
Ethan walked slower this time.
Not because he wanted to stay, but because his legs weren't moving the way he told them to.
At the elevator, just as he was about to press the panel,
someone spoke behind him.
"Thorne! Got a minute?"
The woman who'd called him wasn't Lira. She was wearing a lab coat with the school's sigil, and she was pretty slim with sharp eyes behind those round glasses. She held a data slate in one hand and a coffee in the other.
"Dr. Elaine. Assistant lead on Realm Anomaly Classification"
"Don't worry, I am not with the Authority." she said casually, sipping her coffee like it was just another morning cup.
"I've been watching your case since week one," she added. "But this… this changes with the Board today..."
Ethan just looked at her, waiting.
"Don't worry, you're not in trouble yet. But you've become interesting to them, meaning you will be under watch now."
"And that meeting?" She continued as she watched the room 5C behind. "It was just a hello. The real fun hasn't started."
He didn't like the way she said "fun."
She stepped closer, voice lowering a bit.
"Your realm's acting on its own. We've confirmed subtle behavioral changes like patterns forming in the muck, root systems self-expanding beyond where they should, and instructions they were not commanded to do beyond its abilities."
"It didn't—" Ethan started, but Elaine raised a finger.
"I'm not blaming you but warning. Be careful of what you feel inside your realm, not just what you're doing."
Ethan blinked. "What I feel?"
She nodded.
"She nodded. "Emotions can seep into the world's logic, especially in unstable realms like yours. It can react and... absorb, even if you don't mean it to. You feed it, sometimes even without realizing."
Just then, the elevator pinged open behind him, and Elaine took a step back.
"One more thing," she added. "If your realm starts whispering again—write it down. Even if it sounds like nonsense."
She handed him a small black notepad, barely thicker than his palm. The pages felt blank but smelled faintly of herbs.
"Trust me. It'll help."
And then she was gone—disappearing down the corridor like a ghost.
Later ,He didn't head straight back to the class.
Instead, he returned to his dorm, shut the door, and plugged into the realm interface.
The connection flickered.
Ethan landed in the mire, but something felt off.
The sludge wasn't moving like usual. It was slow and deliberate.
The air smelled different too. Earthier, Like after the rainstorm.
And then he saw it: trailing behind him, from where he'd just been, were footprints.
They weren't his.
Or rather—they didn't match the ones he made seconds ago.
These prints shimmered faintly green, and growing slightly when he turned to look at them.
"...Okay. That's new." he whispered, stepping closer.
The footprints didn't follow his new path; they stayed in place, as if left by someone else.
He crouched, ran his fingers through the nearest one.
A whisper passed through his ears, too faint to catch, but unmistakably there.
*seed*
He backed away slowly as the roots of a nearby tree twitched. They unfurled, slowly stretching out like waking arms. They weren't reaching toward him—they seemed to be waking up… like someone stretching after sleep.
Without thinking, his fingers brushed his pocket—toward the notebook.
Pulling it out, he quickly wrote the word:
As soon as he finished writing that line, the faint shimmer in the footprints vanished—disappeared as if it had never been.
Just like that.
He stayed inside the realm longer than he'd planned, but the whispers never returned. The roots stayed still.
But he still felt it.
That breath.
That pulse.
That unseen presence lurking around.
When he finally logged out, the interface flashed a final line before closing:
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[Realm Update: Evolution Detected.]
[Status: Responsive]
[Growth Trigger: "Seed" — Logged.]
[Development Path: ???]
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Ethan didn't sleep that night.
He stared at the ceiling, notebook pressed against his chest, wondering if tomorrow's match would be more than just a game.
And if the world he made was really still under his control anymore.