The television flickered on, filling the small dorm room with the hum of a news anchor's voice. Dante leaned back against his bed, the frame creaking slightly under his weight. The metallic tang of sweat lingered in the air from his earlier training session. He sighed and grabbed a towel, heading for the shower.

  Steam fogged the small bathroom mirror as Dante finished rinsing off. He wiped a hand across the glass, staring at his reflection. His dark, neatly cropped hair clung to his forehead, and his clean-shaven face gave him the same nondescript appearance he’d always had. Just another guy in the crowd.

  "Another day," he muttered, pulling on a black T-shirt and blue jeans. The simplicity of his wardrobe mirrored the simplicity of his life: study, work, train, repeat. The grind never left much room for anything else.

  As he settled back on the edge of his bed, drying his hair with a towel, the TV caught his attention. The anchor's tone shifted, a mix of urgency and confusion.

  "...reports of communication blackouts in rural areas are increasing. This marks the fourth satellite failure this month—"

  Dante frowned, setting the towel down. “Another one?” he muttered under his breath. The steady drumbeat of bad news had been growing louder, and it was hard to ignore. Something was happening, even if no one seemed to know exactly what.

  And then it happened.

  The screen flickered, the news broadcast replaced by a blue shimmer that filled the entire room. Dante hand froze mid-reach for the remote. A voice boomed, clear and resonant, as if it spoke directly into his mind.

  the voice began, cold and detached.

  Dante sat frozen, every muscle in his body tense. The voice continued, its tone shifting from a bored drawl to something far more chilling.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  The room was plunged into silence.

  Dante chest heaved as he stared at the now blank television. His thoughts raced, every muscle in his body itching to move, to do something. Anything.

  And then it appeared.

  A translucent blue screen materialized in front of him, floating mid-air. Its sharp, glowing text looked out of place against the mundane background of his dorm room.

  Dante stared at the screen, his mind teetering between awe and disbelief. It was impossible. Unreal. Something straight out of a video game. Yet there it was, as tangible as the bed he sat on, as undeniable as the voice that had spoken moments before.

  His amazement quickly gave way to unease. The numbers, the categories—they all pointed to one grim reality. This was no game. If this system was meant to help them survive, then it was clear what was coming.

  A war.