He bought a pack of his usual cigarettes, paid in cash, tucked it into his hoodie pocket, and walked out of the store. He took out a cigarette from the box and lit it. Normally, smoking in a public area might invite moral judgment—but right now, his sanity was scraping the bottom of the barrel, and morality was curled up trembling in some dark corner. He didn't care.
He took a long drag.
The smoke filled his lungs with something foreign, sharp—like trying to breathe through someone else's life. But that feeling helped. It didn't fix anything, but it dulled the edges. His brain slowed down a little, as if surrendering a few horsepower in exchange for peace. The chaos was still there, but at least now it wasn't screaming.
Some kids pointed at him.
He heard them laugh—innocent, confused, almost afraid. But their mother yanked them away, whispering something quickly into their ears. Like she was trying to protect them from whatever he had become. He didn't look back. Didn't need to. He knew what they saw. A man who was technically alive but whose soul was still somewhere else.
His feet carried him forward. Toward the park.
One question, at least, had finally been answered: this was another world.
Same Earth, different flavor. It was as if someone had photocopied his old world but the ink smeared, details warped just slightly off. Same-same but different. He chuckled at the thought—dry, hollow laughter rolling out with the smoke from his mouth. It wasn't even funny. But the absurdity was unbearable if he didn't treat it like a meme.
He reached the park.
It was the same. On the surface.
Same trees. Same layout. Same green heart beating in the middle of a city wrapped in neon, metal, and noise. Even the regulars were here—the elderly couple that always sat on the same bench, side by side like a living statue of routine. But… it wasn't them. They looked similar, but not the same. Off-brand versions. The resemblance was eerie, like meeting someone you saw in a dream but couldn't place.
He walked slowly.
Everything here was an echo. The park. The city. The air. It was all too real to be a dream, but too distorted to be anything else. There were only three options:
One, this was a mirror world.
Two, he had somehow ended up in a parallel dimension.
Three—and the most terrifying—he was dead. Or in a coma. His body lying in some hospital, tubes stuffed down his throat, and this… this was the theater of his dying mind. A final cruel hallucination before the lights went out.
That felt the most plausible. Because this world had confirmed it: he really did get hit by that truck. That was no illusion. That impact was real. So maybe this was what dying felt like. A world built by memories, stitched together by panic and subconscious desperation.
The city was too smooth. Too bugless. There were no glitches. No lags. No dreamlike fade-outs. It moved like life always had—cruel, continuous, indifferent.
The birds still chirped. The sun still climbed. People still jogged and talked and argued and checked their phones like everything made sense. Like this wasn't the cracked edge of existence.
He found a shaded bench under a tree. Sat down. Exhaled slowly.
He didn't even notice the last of the cigarette burning close to his fingers until the heat nipped his skin. He dropped it quickly, cursed under his breath, and stood up. Walked to the bin, the one specifically for cigarette butts, and dropped it in. One of those small public systems that still made sense. That still worked.
Then he walked back to his bench. It felt like the only safe place in the entire world.
Or whatever this world was.
He stared at the screen for a few more seconds before he started to walk further. The city was desolate.
He could feel the sadness and unwillingness of the people when they left. It made his heart ache. He could feel the silence in his bones. His heart started to race again without him knowing why. He became more alert.
Before, he was casually exploring the city, hands in the pockets of his still-wet pants. But now, his hands were out. He was back in full-focus mode again.
Then a hissing sound—like a snake—could be heard. He was at a road split. The road split in three other directions. And in front, on the right path, on top of a building that looked like a shop, stood a beast.
Its eyes were golden, glowing, and its body had sparkling blue spiky fur. It was as big as a cheetah, but it had manes—not of fur, but something else that moved along with its body. It looked like flower petals.
Nine of such manes surrounded its head, each one shifting with its movement. It moved as it hissed like a snake.
It jumped down the building soundlessly.
His heart was pounding against his chest. Adrenaline coursed through his veins. His breathing became rapid. The distance between them wasn't great.
The creature's manes were raised. Now that it was closer, he saw that the manes had some kind of darts in them. And he figured it could shoot them.
He didn't think much. He turned around and ran.
The creature hissed in a strange way, and he looked back—only to see a few darts embedded into the ground where he had stood just seconds before.
The beast looked angry. But he didn't care. He started to run in a zigzag motion. He had seen some YouTube video that gave him this information: if there's a big cat on your tail, you run in a zigzag, not straight.
He didn't care about it much before, because it was unlikely he'd ever be chased by a big cat in a city. But he still remembered it because of how unique the information was.
But it seems like his memory scamed him because he realised that if this beast was not slow and dumb, he would have been dead meat! And the information in his head must've mixed with something else entirely because of his panic.
He felt like he played himself. But he didn't think much of it or at least didn't try to.
He ran, his shoes tapping against the street. The beast was on his tail. It was slow—but still a little faster than him. But it was dumb as well. It was running in a zigzag too, and that made up for the lack of speed on his part.
The beast threw darts a few more times. They had been playing tag for a while now.
He finally saw a massive mall—or that's what it looked like, with an elevator cage inside a building. The gate was broken.
Debris lay here and there. He was breathless now. Sweat covered his suit. His lungs burned and his mind screamed for rest. He ran on sheer will to save his life. He entered the mall, grabbed a small piece of debris, and turned back.
He threw it with all his might at the beast. Since its movements were predictable, it was easy. It hissed like a snake. Its mouth looked like a snake's as well. The beast got into a defensive position. Both came to a deadlock.
He grabbed another piece of debris in the meantime and held it in a throwing position. He caught his breath and thought about his situation and what he could do.
But no matter what he thought, one thing was clear—this beast wouldn't leave him alone. He needed to either shake it off or kill it. And he decided on the latter, because running away—that was what he had been trying to do for the past half hour or so—and the terrain helped as well. Perfect for an ambush. The beast was dumb.
What he needed was a weapon. Sharp or blunt. One met both criteria—a big chunk of wall. It was almost triangular in shape. It had a sharp tip and was blunt. It might be heavy, but manageable. He worked out, after all.
He couldn't exert his full power because of fear and numbness. He walked toward the chunk and threatened to throw the debris in his hand. The beast backed away cautiously, hissing like a snake. He kept a constant eye on the beast.
He reached the chunk and crouched down—slowly. He didn't express his desperation, making the beast believe him to be a formidable foe.
He grabbed the chunk and lifted it up. It was as heavy as he thought.
He managed it rather well. He slowly stood up and held the chunk above his head, and retreated toward the door he had seen earlier. It was broken as well. He used the same zigzag tactic and the beast followed.
He quickly reached the gate and got into position, the chunk still above his head. His heart was racing. He couldn't make mistakes by being hasty. Because haste makes waste. He would wait for the perfect moment.
The beast came running, then turned around and saw him—which it wasn't expecting—and instinctively stopped. Because before being prey, he was now its enemy. And that brief pause gave him the chance he needed.
'Now!!'
He took a step forward and crashed the chunk of wall onto the beast's head. It did some damage but not enough to kill.
The beast hissed, and its manes stood up, but no dart flew out. It had already fired all its load. He made sure of that. And before it could think of anything else, he brought the chunk above his head again and swung it down.
Aaahh!
The beast didn't die. He gritted his teeth and started to repeatedly slam the chunk on its head. The beast was on the ground, hissing.
CRACK-!!
SPLATTER-!!
"Come on, just die already!!"
He shouted as he struck the beast. He hit it so many times that he lost count. Not that he had the luxury to count.
Blue blood spattered everywhere. It smeared his face, his hands, and soaked his clothes. The beast's head was no more. The beast didn't move. Even if it did, it was just muscle memory. He stopped and looked at the mess he made—and retched.
Destroyed brain matter was scattered around the area of its head. Skull fragments were clearly visible. Half of its head was destroyed, along with its upper jaw.
Its tongue could be seen embedded in its own teeth. And one eyeball floated in a pool of blood. The other one couldn't be found—likely destroyed in the carnage.
He took deep breaths to calm his nerves. He felt like vomiting but held it back with all his might. Something else was happening with the beast's body.
When it completely stopped moving, a white smoke started to rise from its now-dead body. The smoke was coming from all over its form. Seeing this, he was so frightened that he scrambled back in his sitting position with all four of his limbs. He left a trail of blue blood on the floor as he retreated.
The smoke started to concentrate approximately one foot above the body. It slowly changed color and turned green. Then, a few moments later, all the smoke was absorbed into the green color and it fell abruptly—hit the dead body before the ground.
It made a glass-meeting-something-hard kind of sound. But the blood dulled it. Yet it was still hearable because of the silence in the surroundings.
He looked at the scene with wide eyes—stunned. Unable to comprehend what had happened. How could smoke come out of a dead body, then concentrate into one place, not just change color but also form a crystal?
He closed his eyes, hoping—and reopened them—hoping the bizarre situation was a lie. But it was not. The crystal was still there, so was the dead body. He took deep breaths and stood up. He walked toward the crystal.
'This may be a phenomenon of this strange world.'
He thought.
He bent down and picked the crystal from the blood. He wiped the blood and squeezed it—noticed that it was green with white in the middle.
The crystal looked normal perlis size. It was unremarkable, to say the least. If it was place it was high level perlis one won't be able to tell that formed from smoke that came out of a dead body of a beast. He won't have either If he didn't see it with his own eyes.
He suddenly had the strange urge to swallow it. But he quickly shook his head.
'Wow! I'm so hungry that I even want to eat a crystal? Just how miserable am I right now?'
He thought, shaking his head with a smile.
He looked up and looked around. The room didn't have any obvious source of light—as if the walls themselves were the source.
'As expected of a futuristic society.'
he thought as he walked toward the items displayed in the shop. But none of them were here. Likely taken, or there was a separate place for that. Here, they used a holographic screen for display.
But he didn't linger too much. There could be others of this type of beast—and he would be dead if more than one came.
He looked up and thought about heading higher but discarded the idea. He would be trapping himself if something came in great numbers, without a chance to run back.
So he exited the mall.