Day 1
Ezra woke to pain.
Again.
It wasn’t the mind-shattering agony of his initial synchronization, nor the raw terror of the survival trial. This was new—a deep, insidious ache settling into his bones, a silent promise that things were about to get much, much worse.
A chime rang in his skull, crisp and clinical.
WELCOME TO THE PHYSICAL EVALUATION.
DURATION: 10 DAYS PER ATTRIBUTE.
CURRENT STAT EVALUATION: 1 (BELOW MINIMUM THRESHOLD).
COMMENCING FIRST TRIAL.
Ezra barely had time to curse before the world shifted.
The sterile lab vanished, replaced by an endless wasteland. The air was too sharp, too real.
Hundreds of figures flickered into existence around him—participants from the Milky Way. Some humanoid, others monstrous, but all radiating the same tension.
A new chime.
MULTILINGUAL INTEGRATION: ACTIVATED.
The murmuring voices around him sharpened into understandable speech.
“This isn’t natural,” someone muttered.
Ezra crossed his arms. “No shit.”
Before anyone could react, the system spoke again.
TRIAL COMMENCING.
OBJECTIVE: SURVIVE AND ADAPT.
And then the ground collapsed.
Day 3 - Sync: 8%
Ezra’s muscles screamed.
They had sprinted across an endless desert, their lungs burning, legs shaking, chased by something unseen.
Each time they collapsed, they died.
And each time, they respawned.
Pain became the only constant.
By the third day, Ezra had stopped caring about winning.
Now, it was about enduring.
Day 5 - Sync: 15%
Ezra slammed into the rock wall, his hands raw and bleeding.
Climbing sheer cliffs with no equipment, no rest. The wind howled, tearing at them, and if they slipped—
Respawn. Start over.
Ezra exhaled shakily, gripping a jagged edge. His mind drifted.
Home.
The sound of coffee brewing. Late-night gaming. Streetlights flickering.
Would it even exist when he got back?
Would he even get back?
A second later, his fingers slipped.
The void swallowed him.
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YOU HAVE DIED.
RESPAWNING...
Day 7 - Sync: 30%
The drowning trial was the worst.
Submerged in black waters, held down by unseen hands. No air. No escape.
Each time, the body convulsed, the mind screamed for oxygen—but the system didn’t care.
Ezra stopped struggling after the twentieth death.
Then, the system spoke.
ENDURANCE INCREASED.
SYNC: 30%.
Thirty percent.
Not enough.
But it was something.
Ezra gritted his teeth, forcing himself to his feet. The pain was unbearable, but he had no choice but to keep going.
Day 10 - Sync: 40%
The final test was deceptively simple.
Survive the fall.
Ezra stood at the edge of an endless void. Above, an unseen force gathered.
FINAL TRIAL: GRAVITY DESCENT.
The ground vanished.
He plummeted.
Air screamed past his ears. The force crushed him, warping his perception, his limbs burning from sheer pressure.
For three seconds, he fought.
Then the world slammed into him.
Everything went black.
YOU HAVE DIED.
RESPAWNING...
The Collector Speaks - Sync: 45%
Ezra awoke to silence.
Groaning, he blinked against the harsh light. Around him, only a handful remained.
And then—the Collector appeared.
A being of shifting, cosmic shadows. A presence that pressed against reality itself.
"YOU PERSIST, SUBJECT 13."
Ezra swallowed. Oh, shit.
The Collector’s gaze swept over them.
"YOU ASK WHY YOU SUFFER."
Silence.
Then, the weight of truth.
"THE MILKY WAY IS NEW TO THE SYSTEM. A FRAGILE ADDITION TO AN ANCIENT ORDER."
"YOU ARE UNFIT FOR IT."
A pause.
"I MAKE YOU FIT."
Ezra exhaled, slow and unsteady. Around him, others stood in wary silence.
Then the final truth.
"IN THIRTY DAYS, CHAOS WILL BREAK FREE. WHEN IT DOES, THE UNWORTHY WILL PERISH."
Ezra’s breath caught.
This wasn’t just a test.
This was a filter.
The Collector’s form shifted, its voice tinged with something almost amused.
"ONLY THOSE WHO REACH 90% SYNCHRONIZATION WILL ENSURE THEIR SPECIES’ PLACE IN THE SYSTEM."
"ADAPT—OR BE ERASED."
The words hung heavy.
Ezra exhaled, ragged.
45%.
Still not enough.
And for the first time since this nightmare began—
He truly understood what was at stake.
Sync Progress: 45%
Requirement for Species Survival: 90%
Days Remaining: 20
Ezra clenched his fists.
No turning back now.
The Collector’s Address: Aftermath
The Collector’s form flickered and faded, leaving behind a still, unnatural silence. The reality of their situation seemed to settle deeper in their bones with every passing second, suffocating them in its weight. For a long moment, none of the participants moved or spoke.
Ezra, arms crossed tightly against his chest, stared at the ground, his teeth grinding in frustration. He felt the eyes of the others on him, and it made his skin crawl. He’d been singled out. He had no clue why, but the Collector had directly addressed him in front of everyone. The pressure of it was unnerving.
"Why the hell did it pick him?" a voice broke through the quiet murmur, a sharp, accusatory tone.
Ezra turned to see a tall, armored figure in the group. He had spiked, metallic limbs and a sharp, angular face, his eyes hidden behind dark, reflective lenses. His skin was a sickly grayish tint, his posture rigid, almost mechanical.
The figure’s voice was low but carried. "That’s the question. Why him? What’s so special about him that the Collector chooses him to speak to directly? We’ve all been put through the same trials, but the Collector only addressed one of us."
A low murmur spread through the group, and several participants exchanged wary glances. The suspicion was clear. They were all trying to make sense of the Collector’s strange choice, and why Ezra seemed to be at the center of it.
Ezra raised an eyebrow but didn’t respond immediately. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to set the record straight; he just didn’t have the answers either. And honestly, he wasn’t in the mood to explain himself.
"I’m just as much of a mystery to me as I am to you," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Maybe it’s because I’m the only one who isn’t falling for the ‘survive and adapt’ routine."
The armored figure tilted his head, clearly unimpressed. "That’s not an answer, human. But it’s telling."
Ezra shrugged. "Deal with it."
Before the conversation could escalate further, the small, frail-looking green-skinned creature—the one with translucent skin—approached, its glowing eyes wide with curiosity. "He’s right, though," it said, its voice high-pitched but laced with determination. "None of us were called out like that. What does it mean? Does it mean something?"
Ezra was silent for a moment, his mind spinning. Could the Collector have been testing him? Singling him out for some unknown reason? Or was it something deeper, something about his species? The thought was unsettling.
“I’m just a guy,” Ezra muttered, clearly uninterested in this line of questioning. "Nothing special about me. But I’ll tell you what, I’m getting real tired of being everyone’s mystery to solve."
The green-skinned creature nodded solemnly but then looked away, perhaps realizing that pressing the issue wasn’t going to get any more answers.
The towering horned figure, who had remained silent up until now, stepped forward. His face was wrinkled with old scars, and his expression was full of guarded suspicion. "The Collector doesn’t waste time on the irrelevant," he said, his voice deep and gruff. "What if Ezra’s part of the trial in a way we don’t understand yet? What if he’s the one we need to watch?"
Ezra shot him a glare, but the horned figure continued, undeterred. "There’s more to you, human. You may not know it yet, but they have their eyes on you."
Ezra’s stomach churned. He wanted to tell the creature to get lost, but there was a sting of truth in his words. The Collector’s attention—his focus—had never been on anyone else. Why him? What was so significant about him?
A voice from behind caught his attention. "I’m not so sure we should be questioning it, though." The voice was soft, hesitant.
Ezra turned to see the reptilian woman—the one with red scales—her eyes narrowed as she studied the situation carefully. "We’ve all been pulled into this mess. Whatever the reason, we’re here. For now, that’s all we need to know."
The armored figure scowled. "And you’re just going to let this go? The Collector’s picked one of us to address personally. That’s not random. It’s a sign of something more."
Ezra scoffed. "Maybe. Or maybe it’s just some messed-up psychological tactic. Either way, I don’t give a damn."
The reptilian woman shot Ezra a sharp look, as if trying to gauge his true feelings. She opened her mouth, perhaps to argue, but was interrupted by the system’s voice suddenly filling the air.
"TIME FOR SOCIALIZATION EXPIRED. RETURN TO TANKS IMMEDIATELY."
Ezra’s muscles tensed at the command. He hadn’t realized how much time had passed. As the others began to shuffle toward their designated spots, he couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched—like the eyes of the universe were on him, and that wasn’t a comforting thought.
His instincts told him to keep moving forward, to stay focused. But the questions lingered. Why had he been singled out? Why had the Collector taken such an interest in him? Was he a part of something much bigger than he realized?
He didn’t get the chance to dwell on it for long.
Without warning, the world around him shifted once again. The ground beneath his feet vanished, and the air was replaced by the familiar cold, sterile fluid of the tank.
The metallic taste of the liquid burned in his throat as his body was suspended once more in the viscous substance, the world around him warping and blurring. The tanks were all around him, the creatures inside them unconscious or in some state of suspended animation.
Ezra’s eyes snapped shut as the fluid surged over his body. The weight of it settled into his bones, and the exhaustion of the past days crept in, pressing him into a deeper state of fatigue.
His last thoughts before he slipped into unconsciousness were fragmented.
Why him?
The question haunted him, but it was the last thing on his mind as the sleep mode engaged. The tanks were cold, and the pressure was immense. The trials had only just begun, but already, something far bigger was at play, and Ezra wasn’t sure he wanted to be a part of it.
"SYNCHRONIZATION RATE: 45%.
SLEEP MODE INITIATED."
The darkness took him again.