Ethan's phone vibrated against his nightstand, the buzz subtle but enough to jar him awake in the early hours of morning. The campus was dead silent, bathed in soft shadows from the security lights outside the dorm window. He rubbed his eyes and glanced at the screen.
> [Unknown Number – 4:17 A.M.]
A single message:
"Ready yourself. Room 17. Science Hall. Now."
He didn't need the System to tell him this was from the Inner Gate.
Ethan got dressed in silence—black hoodie, worn jeans, sneakers without a squeak. He packed his bag with a notepad, a portable drive, a bottle of water, and the folding knife he kept taped under his desk drawer. Nothing flashy. Nothing obvious.
As he stepped into the hallway, he could feel it—the shift. That weight in the air, like reality had become denser.
> [System Alert: Entering Test Zone.] [Skill Activation: Passive Perception Boost – 10% increased spatial awareness.]
The night was crisp. A slight breeze whistled through the stone archways as Ethan moved across campus. Science Hall loomed ahead—its Gothic structure as menacing in darkness as it was inspiring by day.
Inside, the hallway to Room 17 was dimly lit. No cameras blinked. No janitors shuffled around. It was too quiet.
He reached the door. Took a breath. Knocked once.
It opened before his knuckles landed a second time.
The room was nearly empty. A single desk. A lamp. And behind it, a man in a charcoal blazer, unbuttoned, his salt-and-pepper hair slicked back, his expression unreadable.
"Mr. Cross," he said without rising. "Sit."
Ethan sat.
The man looked at a tablet in front of him.
"Ethan Alexander Cross. Age twenty. Born in upstate New York. IQ: 141. Enrolled under special scholarship. Parents deceased. One sibling—estranged. History of behavioral irregularities, sudden skill spikes, and a tendency toward isolation."
The man's eyes rose. "So tell me. Why do you want in?"
Ethan said nothing.
"You're not here by accident, Mr. Cross. We let you through the first gate. What happens next depends on your answer."
Ethan took a breath.
"Because I'm done being a pawn. And I know this game is bigger than you've let on."
The man smiled faintly. "Good. Let's test that."
He led Ethan through a hidden doorway behind the bookshelf. A mechanical whir revealed a spiral staircase descending into darkness. No words. Just a nod to follow.
They walked in silence. Stone walls. Steel reinforcements. And then, at the bottom, a metallic door slid open to reveal... a cube-shaped room.
Ethan stepped in.
The door slammed shut behind him.
> [System Interface Locked – Manual Decision Process Activated.]
> [New Protocol: The Recruiter's Test – Begin]
A female voice echoed through hidden speakers.
"Test One: The Trolley Problem Variant. A train is approaching. Five strangers on one track. One known friend on another. You control the switch. Who do you save?"
Ethan didn't answer immediately.
"Variables?" he asked aloud.
"You may ask three questions."
"Do I know what the five strangers do?"
"One is a doctor. One is a student. One is unemployed. One is a mother. One is terminally ill."
"Will my friend know I made the decision?"
"No."
"Can I stop the train entirely?"
"No."
Ethan closed his eyes.
This wasn't about ethics. It was about utility. Strategy. Cold logic.
He chose the strangers.
"Interesting," the voice said. "File noted."
Lights dimmed. Then brightened again.
"Test Two: Resource Allocation. You are given limited supplies for a dying community. You must divide food, medicine, and power between four factions: Warriors, Engineers, Farmers, and Elders. You can only fully support two."
Ethan thought for a moment.
He assigned food and power to Farmers and Engineers. Kept minimal rations for the others.
"Explain."
"Farmers grow. Engineers maintain. Warriors protect but produce nothing. Elders offer counsel but can't act. In survival, productivity trumps sentiment."
"File noted."
The questions continued.
A dozen more. Each one pressing deeper. Testing memory. Testing emotion. Testing control.
After hours, Ethan was ushered into a second chamber. It was bare except for a reclining chair and a thin halo of copper wired above it.
The man from before returned.
"You've passed the first gauntlet. Now comes the imprint."
"Imprint?"
"You'll see."
The halo descended onto Ethan's head.
He gasped.
> [System Update: Memory Integration Test – Initiated.]
> [Skill Inheritance Simulation: Locked Class Preview Available.]
His vision went white.
And then—memories that weren't his flooded in.
A warrior in the fields of a broken kingdom. A scientist facing extinction in a post-apocalyptic Earth. A spy burning documents under a neon sky.
Each fragment brought a flood of emotion. Pain. Triumph. Madness. Love.
> [Data absorbed: 4.8%... 12.1%... 21.9%]
> [Warning: Emotional Integrity Dropping. Stabilization Recommended.]
> [New Trait Acquired: Adaptive Mind – You gain faster proficiency under pressure.]
Ethan gritted his teeth. His hands clenched the chair arms.
He wasn't drowning.
He was transforming.
When Ethan opened his eyes, the man was seated across from him again, a glass of dark liquor in his hand.
"Congratulations. You're a candidate now."
Ethan wiped blood from his nose.
"Candidate?"
"You haven't joined us. But you've survived the first climb. Most don't."
"What comes next?"
The man handed him a black card.
"That gets you into the Atlas Building. Floor 9. Room 912. Someone will meet you there. You'll get your first mission."
Ethan took it. The card was warm.
"And if I refuse?"
The man smiled. "Then I erase this night. And you go back to sleep... a little more broken than before."
Ethan stood. Card in hand.
"I'm not sleeping anymore."