《Avaris: World Of Stories》


 A New Year

    The city of Neo-Eden pulsed with neon light, casting a synthetic glow across the endless sea of people gathered on the streets. Towering holographic billboards displayed the countdown, each massive digit ticking away the final minutes of the century.


    11:50 PM.


    The air was thick with excitement, a shared anticipation electrifying the masses as they awaited the arrival of the year 2100.


    "Ten minutes left!" a man cheered, raising a glass filled with some overpriced synth drink.


    "Finally! About time we left the past behind," another responded, her voice barely audible over the collective murmur of thousands.


    "Can you believe it? We''re about to hit 2100!" a young woman laughed, gripping her friend''s arm. "Feels unreal. Like we''re stepping into a sci-fi movie."


    "Yeah, let''s just hope we don''t get any apocalypse bullshit. I''ve read too many old dystopian novels to trust a new century," her friend joked, sipping from a steaming cup.


    Robot vendors called out from the sidewalks, selling everything from instant-party injectors to glowing vr googles that flickered in sync with the timer above. The smell of street food¡ªboth real and lab-grown¡ªdrifted through the crowd, mingling with the distinct hum of city drones hovering above to capture the event. Music blasted from unseen speakers, blending into the rhythmic pulse of Neo-Eden''s heart.


    For once, life seemed unified, and hopeful, as if humanity truly had a future beyond the bleak decades that had led to this moment.


    ***


    Meanwhile,


    In the highest room of a run-down high-rise, a different story was unfolding¡ªone drenched in blood.


    The walls, once a dull metallic gray, were now streaked with crimson, violent brushstrokes painting a massacre. Bodies lay strewn across the floor, lifeless eyes staring into nothingness. The air reeked of copper and death, thick enough to choke on.


    At the center of it all, two figures struggled amidst the carnage.


    A hulking brute, muscles rippling beneath a torn jacket, had his massive hands wrapped around the throat of a much smaller, frailer figure¡ªhis grip tightening with murderous intent.


    Xavier''s vision blurred.


    Spots danced before his eyes. The brute''s grip was suffocating, his weight pressing down like a mountain. He could feel his own strength slipping¡ª


    No.


    With sheer determination, Xavier jabbed a bloodied finger straight into the man''s eye socket. A sickening squelch followed, and the brute howled in agony, momentarily loosening his grip. That was all Xavier needed.


    His hand darted to the floor, fingers brushing against cold steel¡ªa knife.


    With one swift motion, he drove the blade into the brute''s neck.


    A gurgled scream. A spray of warm blood. The body collapsed onto him like a falling pillar.


    Xavier coughed violently, shoving the corpse off. His entire body burned with pain. His wounds screamed. His breath was ragged. He had barely survived.


    "Should''ve just gotten a bolt gun, who the fuck told me meleeing a gang was realistic¡­" he muttered between pained gasps. "Would''ve saved me the trouble." Then again, with his shitty aim, he''d probably have shot himself first.


    He finally stood, trembling from exhaustion. His birthday.


    December 31st. He was turning sixteen years old today.


    One would find it fun to be born on the last day of the year like he was, but what they would forget is the fact it would be completely overshadowed by it being New Year''s Eve.


    That''s how it is with being born on a holiday, and especially for a day like today.


    Others his age were out there, celebrating the upcoming century, yet here he was¡ªbroken, bleeding, surrounded by corpses, and nearing his death. Ironic.


    His eyes drifted to a corpse in the corner. A well-dressed man, a knife buried in his eye. The gang leader.


    Xavier smirked. At least that bastard was dead. His debt had finally been paid in blood.


    Then, the sound of commotion outside. ''Must be more gang members.'' he thought.


    He knew how the gangs in this city worked. He knew exactly what they would do.


    They wouldn''t try to breach the room as reinforcements. They''d burn it.


    It''s better to get rid of all evidence than to potentially add to it. Even if it would cost their boss''s life.


    If the boss was in any normal state within the building, then he could activate its disaster measures to stop the flames, if he didn''t it meant that he had been taken care of.


    A crackling sound confirmed his suspicions. He limped to the window, peering outside.


    Fire.


    Flames licked hungrily at the lower floors, spreading unnaturally fast. The building''s automated filters should''ve suppressed it, but¡­ Xavier frowned. He glanced beyond the blaze, scanning the cityscape.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.


    No drones. No government enforcers. No one was coming.


    Of course. He had forgotten the kind of enemy he chose tonight.


    With a heavy sigh, he leaned against the wall, watching the fire consume the building. He didn''t care.


    His goal was complete. His fate was already sealed.


    If he wasn''t going to die today, he was going to die sometime later, so it wouldn''t matter.


    So it''s better the new year would come without him.


    His fingers dug into his pocket, pulling out his phone. The old device was barely holding together, its cracked screen flickering erratically. "Guess I should''ve expected this. It''s shit like this that people don''t use smartphones anymore."


    It was a relic from the early 21st century¡ªa time when smartphones still had physical components before everything became chip implants. Despite its age, it still connected to the internet, a small mercy in his otherwise miserable existence.


    He turned it on, swiping through the few messages he had. There were only three chats, but his eyes focused on the one he hadn''t touched in two years.


    [Please, don''t...]-Last seen, July 2097.


    For a moment, he hesitated. If things had been different, would he be graduating like the others his age? Would he have friends, a home, a normal life? Would she still talk to him? The thoughts were useless, he knew that. The past was set in stone, and no amount of regret would change where he was now.


    Heat licked at the edges of the room. The fire was spreading faster than he expected. It fascinated him. He''d never spent much time around fire, but watching it now¡ªconsuming everything, rising higher, burning hotter¡ªit felt... alive. Unstoppable. Inevitable.


    In a way, it mirrored his own existence. A fleeting burst of destruction, gone as quickly as it came.


    He glanced at his phone again. A minute to midnight.


    "Wonder what the next century will be like," he muttered, chuckling dryly.


    His thumb hovered over the message box. Screw it. He typed out a simple message and hit send.


    [Happy New Century.]-Just Sent.


    Outside, the city roared to life. Thousands of voices screamed in unison, counting down the final moments.


    Ten.


    Xavier exhaled, watching as the flames curled around him, creeping closer, hungering for his flesh.


    Nine.


    He smiled. At least he''d see the new year, even if only for a few moments.


    Eight. Seven. Six.


    He closed his eyes, the noise of the city drowning out everything else.


    Five. Four. Three.


    The fire surrounded him, the heat unbearable, yet strangely comforting.


    Two. One.


    Midnight.


    But instead of the triumphant cheers of the city, the world froze.


    The fire stopped moving. The air stopped vibrating. The very fabric of time itself seemed to halt before his eyes.


    Zayn''s breath hitched as he stared at the flames frozen mid-motion, their tongues of fire caught in place like the still frames of a paused film. The heat that should have been suffocating him only moments ago now lingered as an eerie warmth, neither advancing nor retreating.


    He reached out with shaking fingers, attempting to disturb the fire''s shape, but it remained solid and unyielding, as though sculpted from molten glass.


    What the hell is happening?


    A surge of panic rippled through him, but even that felt muted, as though the world itself had stilled his emotions along with time. His gaze dropped to his own body, his tattered clothing soaked in crimson.


    The wounds that should have been gushing blood remained motionless, droplets hanging midair as if suspended by invisible strings. He twisted his wrist, flexed his fingers¡ªhe could still move, still breathe, still feel the dull throb of pain coursing through his limbs.


    But the blood, the fire, and the very world outside of him had stopped.


    Then, something pulled at him¡ªnot physically, but an undeniable force demanding his attention. His eyes snapped toward the shattered window, where the city''s neon glow still flickered, casting distorted colors over the streets below.


    The gang members who had been fleeing the burning building were now stock-still, their heads all tilted upward in eerie unison. A creeping sense of dread curled in Zayn''s stomach as his gaze followed theirs.


    His heart stopped.


    Above them, suspended in the vast abyss of the night sky, was an impossibly massive open book. Its pages glowed with an intensity that should have seared his retinas, brighter than the sun itself¡ªyet the light did not burn, nor did it force him to look away. The air around it shimmered, warping like heatwaves, distorting reality itself. The book loomed impossibly large, dominating the sky like a celestial deity staring down upon its insignificant creations.


    Zayn could not comprehend what he was seeing, but neither could anyone else. The scene was not limited to this one city or even this one continent. No matter where they were¡ªworking in underground tunnels, lost within the subaquatic cities, or stationed within the artificial habitats of the space colonies¡ªevery single human being, every creature of Earth and the universe, saw the book in the sky as though it hung directly above them.


    It was beyond logic. Beyond physics. Beyond sanity.


    A weighty silence fell upon the world, suffocating and absolute. A moment later, the silence shattered as an almighty voice boomed from the heavens.


    Pathetic.


    The word did not simply echo¡ªit resonated, shaking every living soul to its core. It carried disappointment, scorn, and an undeniable authority. Though no one understood why, a deep and primal shame festered in their chests, as if they had failed some incomprehensible expectation. Even the most arrogant and powerful among them found themselves trembling, unable to refute the truth they could not even grasp.


    The voice continued, its presence filling not just the air but their very beings.


    For so long, you have been granted the opportunity to exist, and yet you have squandered it. You persist without direction, without contribution, without purpose. A wasted existence is an insult to creation itself.


    The weight of its words pressed upon them like an unseen force. Zayn''s hands clenched into fists, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He wanted to scream, to deny it, to rage against the being that dared to judge them. But the words held power as though it was a universal truth.


    The voice carried on, unwavering in its decree.


    Such existence is a burden upon the cosmos. Worlds that serve no purpose have no reason to remain. To continue such a cycle is the epitome of waste. But I am not without mercy. I shall grant you purpose.


    Zayn swallowed hard, his throat dry as sandpaper. The voice did not feel malicious, nor did it revel in cruelty. It simply was¡ªa cosmic judge passing down a sentence without bias, without hesitation.


    The reality you know shall be no more. Your world shall be unmade and rewritten, merged into a new existence where all things serve a greater design. You shall be grafted into a world of worth.


    A sickening sensation crawled over Zayn''s skin, a pressure that made his entire being scream in defiance. He could barely process the being''s words before it continued.


    In this new existence, all things¡ªbe they human, beast, plant, or machine¡ªshall be given a chance to prove themselves. To grasp the essence of truth, to forge their very beings into something greater.


    Zayn exhaled sharply as the final words crashed down upon them like a celestial verdict.


    To become Loreforged.


    As the proclamation settled, reality itself trembled. Cracks of blinding light split the sky, and for the first time since the frozen moment began, motion returned. But it was not the world returning to normal. No, this was something far worse.


    Reality was unraveling.


    Zayn''s stomach lurched as the world around him distorted, threads of existence peeling away like the frayed edges of a burning tapestry. Buildings, streets, and people dissolved into streams of radiant energy, spiraling toward the heavens where the great book remained open, its pages absorbing all that was.


    The Regrafting begins.


    The voice''s final declaration rang clear, and in that instant, everything that existed was unwritten.


    And this was what served to begin a new year.


    A new era.

 Unravelling

    The unraveling began subtly. At first, the changes were nearly imperceptible¡ªa flicker in the air, a momentary distortion. Then, tiny symbols drifted up like dust caught in the light. People stared in confusion as these strange markings¡ªletters¡ªfloated gently into the sky, absorbed into the luminous pages of the colossal book above. The realization was slow, creeping like a predator in the dark.


    It wasn''t until objects began breaking apart that the panic set in. Buildings dissolved into their fundamental descriptions. Walls peeled away into lines of text¡ª"brick," "steel," "glass"¡ªeach word forming and floating skyward in the language of the observer. Water broke into "water," stone into "stone," air into "air." People gawked in disbelief as they saw the very fabric of their existence turn to words.


    Then, some of the more observant among them noticed something truly terrifying: the letters that formed the words were also made up of smaller letters, recursively spelling their own meaning in an infinite regress of language. "Water" broke into smaller words like "oxygen" and "hydrogen", and "stone" broke into tiny words of "minerals".


    It was as if reality itself had never been anything more than a collection of words and letters waiting to be undone.


    Screams filled the air as humanity finally understood. They had been nothing more than a tale in the pages of something greater. And now they were being unraveled.


    People ran in every direction, clawing at their homes, their belongings, as if their desperate touch could somehow hold the words together. A woman shrieked as her house disintegrated, the letters spelling "home" before fragmenting further into materials. A child sobbed, grasping at his dog as the creature shuddered, its fur becoming ink, then mere text before vanishing entirely. The boy collapsed in horror, screaming as his pet''s name was erased from existence.


    Then came the humans.


    Mothers clutched their children, shielding them from a fate they couldn''t stop. But the universe had no mercy. Little bodies unraveled, syllable by syllable, while parents watched helplessly, their own fingers starting to fray into sentences. Lovers grasped at each other as their names blurred into meaningless script. Children wailed as they witnessed their siblings become nothing more than words in the wind.


    Their flesh, their bones, their very essence unspooled into phrases¡ª"skin," "muscle," "blood"¡ªeach term peeled away until nothing remained but emptiness where they had stood. One by one, the people of Earth and all over were unwritten out of existence.


    Amidst the chaos, Xavier stood still.


    He watched the fire before him dissolve, its flames breaking into the very letters that defined it. "F-I-R-E" hovered in the air before it was absorbed into the sky-bound tome. The walls around him peeled away like paper, leaving only words drifting into nothingness. Even the gang members below, who had tried to flee, were now nothing more than desperate cries lost in a sea of disappearing text.


    Yet Xavier was not afraid.


    He felt strangely at peace, an odd serenity amidst the apocalypse. He had no reason to run. He had no home, no family, no real future to lose. When the entity had first spoken, declaring humanity pathetic, he had felt anger, indignation. But now, standing amidst the unraveling world, he wasn''t sure what to feel anymore. He watched with detached curiosity as his fingers disintegrated before his eyes, the letters forming his flesh swirling away like embers in the wind.


    A faint smirk tugged at his lips.


    "Heh¡­ Figures."


    His body continued to dissolve, letters spelling out his name, his existence, vanishing into the great unknown. His vision darkened. He felt himself slip, yet he was not afraid.


    And then¡ª


    Nothing.


    Or perhaps, something beyond nothing.


    Xavier drifted in a state of paradox. He existed and did not. He was written and erased. His thoughts felt hollow yet full. He should not have been able to see, yet he could. He should not have been able to hear, yet sound reached him. He should not have been able to feel, yet sensations tingled at his consciousness.


    It was an indescribable sensation¡ªhe existed, yet he didn¡¯t. He felt, yet he was numb. He saw, yet he had no eyes to perceive. The vastness of his unraveling form stretched into infinity, and for the first time, he felt untethered from the burden of his own existence.


    Was this death? Or was it merely the next page of his story?


    And if it was¡­ who was holding the pen?


    Xavier drifted in the void, caught between nothingness and awareness.Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Then, a voice called out.


    It wasn¡¯t sound. It wasn¡¯t vibration. It was something more profound, a declaration that embedded itself directly into his very essence as if the words weren¡¯t meant to be heard but to be understood beyond the constraints of language. It was the almighty being.


    "Your reality has unraveled. The wasteful and purposeless among you shall be discarded. But among the countless existences, sentient and non-sentient, a select few shall be given the opportunity to prove their worth. To be granted a place in a world of true meaning. Avaris."


    Xavier found himself momentarily suspended in an unfamiliar feeling. Not fear. Not relief. Just a hollow silence as the words continued to etch themselves into his mind.


    "Avaris, a world where even the smallest of creatures may find purpose. A world where existence itself holds weight. You, who hear this decree, have been selected to partake in a trial. Among the unessential masses, only those who prove themselves shall ascend. To become Loreforged, those of definite higher purpose. Those who will truly succeed in this world."


    "Those who fail will still remain, but will acknowledge that they hold no worth."


    The voice carried the weight of something absolute. It was not a choice, not a plea. It was law. The decree of an existence so far beyond comprehension that defying it was as meaningless as a spark defying a wildfire.


    Then came the final words, resonating with an undeniable finality:


    "Those who face this trial will forge a story for themselves. But it must not be forgotten. Any story can be created. But only a story with purpose can truly exist."


    And then, silence.


    Xavier felt something shift within himself. A realization. Those words¡ªthat decree¡ªmeant that he, too, had been chosen.


    Him?


    He let the thought sink in, and for a moment, he simply couldn¡¯t comprehend it. He had never considered himself to be of any importance. No hidden talents, no extraordinary skills, no fate-defying abilities. He wasn¡¯t some prodigy or miracle child like those other fucks his age, nor had he been born into wealth or influence.


    He had nothing.


    Nothing except a good memory and an uncanny knack for finding ways to kill someone. And he wasn''t even that good at that, his memory serving only as a storage of grudges he couldn''t let go.


    Not exactly the traits of a chosen one.


    He had expected the selection to favor the elite, the prodigies, the ones with so-called "destined greatness." Yet, here he was. Maybe the selection was random, or maybe there was some incomprehensible logic behind it. He didn¡¯t know. He couldn¡¯t know.


    But what he did know was this: he had been chosen, whether by mistake or by some unknown design, and there was no turning back now.


    He had nothing to lose.


    At some part of his consciousness, he knew that this trial wasn''t anything normal. He knew that some way or another this was actually something more than dangerous. The way this being spoke about it made it pretty obvious that whatever being a Loreforged meant, it was pretty good.


    And one thing Xavier knew was that there was no such thing as good things without risks. He would be shocked if this ''trial'' could kill him and to be honest, his odds of survival were practically nonexistent.


    But that wasn¡¯t new to him. He was supposed to die tonight anyway. If this was just another inevitability, he might as well see where it led.


    After all, what was one more impossible trial in the life of someone who had already lost everything?


    Xavier''s vision, if it could even be called that, began to shift. The formless void that had encompassed him started to stir, bending and warping in ways that defied reason. At first, it was subtle¡ªfleeting flickers of words appearing beneath him. These words weren¡¯t just near him; they stretched far below as if he were gazing from a celestial vantage point, watching reality be woven together beneath him.


    The letters emerged in waves, an endless tide of ink forming coherent structures. Small words like ¡°dirt¡± and ¡°stone¡± coalesced first, fragmenting and interlocking in a delicate dance. As they merged, they no longer remained mere words but became something more tangible. ¡°Dirt¡± layered upon ¡°stone,¡± and where they joined, the term ¡°land¡± was etched into existence. The moment it formed, it became real¡ªa vast, stretching terrain of soil and bedrock sprawling outward, limitless and unending.


    Xavier was held captive by the sight before him, unable to do anything but marvel at the impossible. It was not simply the creation of a world, but the articulation of one. A reality that had to be written before it could exist, where language was the blueprint of creation.


    Then came the rivers and lakes. Words like ¡°stream¡± and ¡°wave¡± interwove, forming the flowing motions of water, cascading and twisting through valleys sculpted by their existence. Above them, the air itself began to materialize, the word ¡°sky¡± stretching across the void like a vast dome, its presence shaping the world into something habitable.


    Forests sprouted from nothingness, their names carving their forms into being. ¡°Tree¡± multiplied into dense thickets and towering woodlands, where each leaf and branch bore the imprint of the letters that had given it life. The world was no longer an abstract idea¡ªit was breathing, living, and real.


    And then, at the center of it all, his gaze was drawn to a singular, breathtaking sight¡ªa mountain, rising high above the rest of the land. Its jagged peaks were crowned with a magnificent city, constructed entirely of words that morphed and solidified into grand architecture. The moment he saw it, he knew this place was different. This city was not just a structure; it was a declaration. The towering castle at its peak stood as the heart of this newborn land, its presence regal and commanding.


    Xavier could feel something changing. The endless void that had surrounded him was now retreating, the distance between him and the world below shrinking with every passing moment. It was as if he were being pulled downward, drawn into this realm that had been shaped before his very eyes. Words flowed around him, wrapping around his form, their essence seeping into him as reality claimed him once more.


    Sensations returned¡ªfirst, the faintest traces of weight, then the familiar pressure of gravity. The void was gone. He was descending.


    His pulse quickened, anxiety creeping in as he fell faster and faster. What was happening? Where was he being taken? Would he survive the descent, or would he be obliterated upon impact? The questions swirled within him, but before he could process them, everything went dark.


    And then, in the abyss of his mind, he saw the words appear. Grand and bold, in colors he couldn''t distinguish.


    [Your First Story Is Upon You]