I came to with a dull ache pulsing behind my temples, like my brain had been dragged across gravel. My first coherent thought was: Again? I can’t stay conscious for five minutes in this place. Groaning, I blinked away the spots in my vision. The fluorescent lights overhead flickered erratically, half-blinding me if I dared open my eyes too wide.

  “Ethan,” a soft voice murmured nearby, “can you hear me?”

  I recognized Claire’s calm tone. She sounded worried. That’s new.

  I tried to answer, but my throat felt parched, words sticking halfway down. Trevor’s silhouette hovered at my side, comedic tension absent from his features. Even Barry was looming behind them, arms crossed like a silent guardian. Izzy fiddled with a first-aid kit. Ned stood a few steps away, wringing his hands.

  “Yeah,” I croaked, forcing my eyes open all the way. I tried to sit up, but my head throbbed in protest. “Just…gimme a second.”

  Trevor released a tight breath. “Dude, you had us worried. One moment you were rolling your eyes at the meeting, next you were on the floor. That’s more dramatic than the synergy metrics.”

  I attempted a weak laugh, my voice still shaky. “They say I’m allergic to ‘synergy.’” My attempt at humor fell flat, overshadowed by the lingering pain in my skull. The overhead flicker seemed more menacing than usual, each pulse of light accompanied by a faint hum that set my teeth on edge.

  Claire knelt, offering me a plastic cup of water from somewhere. “Small sips. You passed out after… well, something weird. You were rubbing your temples, then just collapsed.”

  I accepted the water gratefully, each swallow easing the dryness in my mouth. A memory flared: an alien symbol swirling above the conference table, partial System messages flitting across my vision. I struggled to piece it together. “I, uh… I saw this weird symbol floating. Did you—?”

  My voice faltered. The entire room was quiet, and from the collective uneasy expressions, I guessed they’d each witnessed something, but maybe not exactly what I saw.

  Barry cleared his throat. “We all saw something, but none of us fainted. Except you.” His tone was neutral, not accusing. “You looked like you were in pain.”

  Ned’s pen tapping started up again, an anxious staccato. “I-it was like the air got thicker. Or maybe that’s j-just me.” He exhaled shakily.

  I braced a hand against the carpet and pushed myself upright. The room spun once, then settled. My body still felt weirdly sensitive—like every rustle of paper in the conference room grated on my nerves. Focus, Ethan. Forcing a deep breath, I scanned the area. Papers scattered across the table from our frantic reaction. The overhead slides were now dark; Gerald’s precious presentation had fizzled out, probably from the building’s flickering power.

  “Where’s Gerald?” I asked, noticing the man himself was notably absent.

  Izzy answered, her voice trembling. “He stormed off after you collapsed. Something about a meltdown messing up his synergy talk.” She shook her head, clearly disapproving. “But, um, he said he’d be back?”

  “Good riddance,” Trevor muttered under his breath, then turned to me. “You sure you’re okay? You were out for a minute or two.”

  I nodded, carefully massaging my temples. The throbbing ache subsided just enough for me to think straight. “I’ll survive, I think. But something’s… off.”

  Before I could elaborate, a sudden flicker of blue-green light danced across my peripheral vision. My breath caught, and I glanced around. The entire group tensed, collectively holding their breath. Then, as if on cue, a series of holographic panels blinked into existence in front of each person—translucent screens floating at eye level.

  I jolted upright. “You guys see that too, right?”

  Trevor’s eyes were wide. “Yeah, I—I have a glowing rectangle in front of me? It’s like… a phone screen but in midair.”

  [System Notification: Initialization in Progress…] floated across my own field of view, the text crisp and faintly glowing. My heart lurched. This was the same presence I’d sensed earlier, the “System” that had hammered my skull. But now it wasn’t just me. Everyone else, from Claire to Barry to Izzy, had their own flickering holograms.

  Barry furrowed his brow at his. “Is… is this some new corporate VR thing?”

  Claire shook her head, eyes narrowed. “Doesn’t look like any VR I’ve seen. And we can all see different panels?”

  Ned let out a shaky whimper. “M-maybe it’s a virus, or a data hack? Are we hacked?”

  Ding. Another line scrolled across my panel:

  [Welcome to the Trials.]

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  “Trials?” I muttered. My confusion was mirrored by the others, except for Trevor, who gave a half-laugh. “Is that the kind of trial where we don’t die, or…?”

  [System Notification: Tutorial Protocol Activated.]

  That sentence splayed across everyone’s screens in big, bold text. I could hear each person reading it under their breath. My chest tightened. What Tutorial? If this was the same cosmic entity that blasted me with an alien symbol, we were in for a ride.

  Jacob—who had been lurking near the door, evidently returning from wherever he’d gone—let out a startled yelp. “Is—anyone else’s screen saying ‘Trials’?”

  Claire turned to him, her composure a hair’s breadth from breaking. “We all have it. So it’s not just Ethan hallucinating.”

  Trevor eyed his panel, blinking. “Uh, guys?” His usually jokey tone was subdued. “Mine says: Objective: Kill 1 or More Monster(s). Time Remaining: 12:00. That’s… messed up.”

  My stomach sank. “I see it too.” Because it was there, right in front of me, flickering faintly:

  [System Notification: Trial 1 Activated. Objective: Kill 1 or More Monster(s). Time Remaining: 12:00.]

  We all exchanged looks. For a moment, no one spoke. The overhead lights flickered ominously, as though reinforcing the sense that reality was about to unravel further.

  [Failure Condition: Slow Death.]

  Another line manifested, cold and unrelenting. My mouth went dry. “Slow death? Are we in some twisted game?”

  Izzy swallowed hard, hugging the first-aid kit to her chest like a security blanket. “Th-this can’t be real,” she whispered. “I refuse to believe it’s telling me to kill something—”

  Trevor tried to lighten the tension, failing spectacularly. “Maybe it’s an elaborate corporate team-building exercise? ‘Go kill a monster, synergy achieved!’” He let out a nervous laugh, which fell flat.

  Barry’s gaze hardened. “We’d better not take it lightly. If we all see it, then something’s forcing these messages on us.” He looked to Claire. “What do we do?”

  Claire inhaled, squaring her shoulders. “First, we gather our wits. Panicking solves nothing. Second…” She turned to me. “Ethan, you saw some symbol earlier, right? Did you get any info on it or something?”

  I opened my mouth to respond when a new text scrolled across my screen:

  [Expanded Neural Sensory Threshold – Partially Active. Full Ability Locked.]

  I blinked. That was the same weird skill that hammered my senses earlier. My eyes darted to the System text:

  [Neural Overload Risk: 25% Probability. Adjusting Integration…]

  “Uh… yeah,” I managed, voice unsteady. “It’s calling it Enhanced Neural Sensory Threshold, but apparently it’s only partially integrated. Something about me not being able to handle it fully.”

  Trevor raised an eyebrow. “So you do have a special skill. Lucky you? Wait, no—maybe that’s unlucky, given your meltdown.”

  I gave a half-shrug, feeling a flush of embarrassment. “All I know is it nearly knocked me out cold.”

  Ned’s pen tapping escalated. “So… we all have some sort of skill or potential skill? I see something in my panel about ‘Locked Skill Slot 1’—” He squinted at the air. “But it’s all glitchy.”

  Barry frowned at his screen. “Mine says something about ‘Attribute Points’? Is this a video game?”

  A subdued hush fell over the conference room, the tension so thick I could practically taste it. The beep of the overhead projector, still half-functional, cast flickering shadows across the walls.

  Thud. Something shifted in the air, a heavy pulse that reverberated through my chest. I glanced around, noticing the water cups trembling on the table again. That can’t be good.

  Claire snapped her head up. “Did anyone else feel that?”

  We all nodded. The sense of wrongness from earlier multiplied tenfold.

  Suddenly, a swirl of dark energy coalesced in the middle of the room, near where the alien symbol had hovered. It flickered, crackling with electric-blue sparks. This was it, I realized, the meltdown I’d glimpsed in those nightmarish visions. Only now, everyone else saw it too.

  [System Notification: Portal Forming. Threat Emergence Imminent.]

  A cold sweat broke out across my neck. “Portal? Like a… literal portal?”

  Trevor’s eyes darted to me, panic creeping in. “We can’t handle that, right? We barely handled the building’s wiring!”

  Barry stepped forward, his stance steady. “Stay calm. We don’t know what’s coming through.”

  Izzy’s voice trembled. “D-do we run?” She clutched the first-aid kit like it was a life preserver.

  Jacob swallowed audibly. “The timer says 12:00? That’s not a lot of time, is it?”

  Gerald, reappearing in the doorway with a scowl, opened his mouth—probably to berate us or say something about synergy—then froze at the sight of the swirling vortex. His face paled, and for once, words failed him.

  Crack. The vortex expanded, swirling faster. My heart thundered as I recalled the “Trial 1: Kill 1 or More Monster(s).” The instructions couldn’t be more direct. We had to kill monsters. Monsters that’d come out that portal.

  The lights overhead flared in a final dramatic flicker, half the bulbs shorting out with a snap. The room dimmed, lit only by the sinister glow of that swirling darkness. My panel updated:

  [System Notification: Trial Commencing in 00:10. Please prepare for anomaly spawn.]

  A hush fell, the silence heavy and suffocating. Trevor gripped the back of a chair, Ned looked ready to hyperventilate, Barry tensed as though bracing for a fight, and Claire’s eyes narrowed in determination. Gerald stood frozen, mouth agape, synergy metrics forgotten.

  My stomach felt like lead. This is real. A cosmic tutorial where messing up meant “Slow Death.”

  Izzy let out a soft whimper. “Guys, what are we supposed to do?”

  My Enhanced Neural Threshold flickered at the edges of my vision, amplifying every flicker, every hum of the flickering lights. Adrenaline spiked through me. “We— we gear up. Improvise weapons if we have to.” The words came out shaky but resolute, echoing what the System demanded: Survive. Kill. Or fail.

  Another faint pulse rippled from the vortex, a harbinger of what was about to emerge. Everyone stood at the cusp, eyes locked on the swirling darkness.

  [System Notification: Good luck. You’ll need it.]

  The text scrolled across my hologram, dripping with sarcasm. I clenched my fists. Bring it on, then.

  And then, with a final electric pop, the swirling portal flared bright, painting the conference room in ghastly shadows. Claire shot me a grim nod, as if to say, We’re in this together. I nodded back, ignoring the dread coiled in my gut.

  A single hush settled over the group, the portal spinning like a gaping wound in the air. We had no idea what waited on the other side, only that time was ticking—and the System’s lethal promise hung over us like a guillotine.

  Well, I thought, so much for a normal office day.

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  Stay on your Path, and Ascend.

  Stardust Nexus