The morning sun slipped through the window, casting pale light across the room.
Excel stirred awake, stretched his stiff limbs, and rose to prepare for the day.
He walked into the bathroom and turned the tap. Nothing came out. A frown cut
across his face as he leaned over the basin. The silence pressed in—unnatural,
heavy. Normally the street outside roared with cars and voices, even at night.
Now there was nothing. Not a sound.
Excel shut off the tap—already dry—and stepped back into the hallway. He
froze. His mouth moved before his voice could catch up.
"What the—"
He bolted to his room, then out onto the veranda. The sight stopped him cold.
The road, the shops, the traffic—everything was gone. In its place stretched an
ocean of tall grass and trees, swaying in the morning light.
He gripped the railing, knuckles white, breath stuttering. A brittle laugh
slipped from him. "No… this—this can't be real."
He pinched his arm, desperate to wake from a dream—only for a wave of sharp
pain to shoot through him. The jolt pushed him back against the wall; his
breath came fast and uneven. Half of him buzzed with wild excitement; the other
half trembled with terror.
Excel—self-proclaimed psycho—had always wished the world would unravel. Any
otaku might fantasize about alien abductions or reincarnation; Excel wanted a
bigger, fouler kind of chaos. Still, his mind kept whispering the obvious
question: what if it goes horribly wrong? Standing in the silence of a vanished
city, that question cut deep.
He tore through drawers until his fingers closed on his phone. Shaking, he
dialed. Once. Twice. Again. Each call rang into nothing. No answer. A cold
weight settled into his chest.
"Pick up," he muttered. "Please—"
The screen stayed blank. His hand snapped. With a strangled laugh and tears
burning his eyes, he hurled the phone to the floor. Glass spider-webbed across
the kitchen tiles. His voice—half laugh, half sob—hung in the empty house.
"Maybe this is one of those dreams that feels too real. I mean—come on. A
forest doesn't grow overnight. It takes years… decades." He forced out a laugh
and pulled himself up. If this is a dream, might as well enjoy it before I wake
up, he told himself.
"Might as well find some fine shyt hiding around a corner," he added, half
joke, half dare.
He dressed fast. A twist in his stomach doubled him over—this wasn't ordinary
hunger; it was raw, gnawing starvation that felt like his insides were tying
themselves in knots. He stumbled to the kitchen.
Vines crawled across the walls, green tendrils clutching at cabinets and the
refrigerator. He yanked the door open and recoiled.
Inside was rot. Fruits had sprouted and withered into husks, leftovers had
turned to foul sludge. The air smelled of decay.
How long was I asleep? The thought rose, persistent and unwelcome.
He slammed it down. He just needed food. He found a single nut—something he'd
tossed in the fridge the night before. Against all odds it had ripened. He bit
into it raw, barely chewing, and felt a little of the hunger ease.
He made a crude stove from scraps and metal and tossed the rest of the nut on
it to roast. The flavor was awful; it steadied him anyway.
The roasted nut did more than fill his stomach—it gave him the nerve to move.
The phone lay shattered, useless. He scanned the kitchen for anything else and
walked out with a machete from the back porch and a blunt kitchen knife. Better
than nothing.
"Yeah, could be a dream, but you can't be too careful," he muttered, palms
gripping the machete.
He paused at the door, took a breath, and nodded. "Aiit. Let's do this." He
swung it open.
Coiled at the foot of the stairs was a massive snake, scales glinting in muted
light. It watched him without haste. For one slow, terrible beat, neither moved.
"Good day—and have a nice day, sir," Excel said, forcing a grin, then slammed
the door.
"That was awkward." He walked to the veranda and peered over the rail. Below,
the road was gone—only tall grass and trees. He clicked his tongue. "Guess
we're jumping down," he said, voice bright at the edges.
Whatever thread of doubt had tugged at him earlier frayed then snapped.
Excitement flooded through him. He laughed—a short, wild sound—and launched
himself over the balcony. Two stories of air spread beneath him, the green
below like a dare.
For a heartbeat he felt free—terrified, reckless, alive.
And then he fell.
Anyone would hesitate to jump from a two-storey building, but Excel moved with
the rush of excitement. His body leaned into the thrill before his mind could
catch up. As he fell, he stretched out, trying to break the drop with a branch
jutting from the side of the building. His fingers grazed the bark—but slipped.
He hit the ground hard, landing squarely on his butt.
"Fuuuuuck!!!"
The pain shot through him, making him scream, but his voice trailed off as his
eyes locked on the world before him.
The view was breathtaking.
A city swallowed by time and nature. Forest and modern concrete intertwined in
a strange, haunting beauty. Vines snaked across the skeletons of streetlights,
and grass spilled through cracks in the highway like veins reclaiming flesh.
Broken glass glinted beneath dappled sunlight, as if the ruins themselves still
breathed.
Dangerous. Yet beautiful.
Excel stood frozen, awestruck, before snapping himself out of the trance. He
scanned the surroundings while pushing himself upright, brushing dirt from his
palms.
He wasn't supposed to be here—not like this. A student of University XXXX in
Lagos, Nigeria, Excel had lived alone just outside campus. He was tall,
dark-skinned, with striking features that often drew more attention than he
cared for, walking Out front which used to be a busy highway, alive with the
noise of honking buses and impatient drivers.
Now, only silence.
The highway was gone—what was left of it was swallowed whole by greenery.
"A car would be a bad idea in this environment," he muttered, eyeing a rusting
sedan half-buried in vines. He paused, then added under his breath, "…but it'll
be needed at some point."
The thought lingered. The urge to ride the car like a lunatic tugged at him,
but hesitation won out. The world had changed. This was more than just trees
growing out of concrete.
Excel knew it. He felt it in his gut.
Something else lurked here.
He remembered the snake from before—how suddenly it had appeared, how real the
threat had been. If snakes still survived, then surely other wild things roamed
too.
He held on to his machete and moved forward with caution and excitement of the
adventure that awaits. Whether it was a dream or the reality has really
changed, whatever the case might be he was ready to enjoy most of it or survive
enough to find the answers. *Scoff* "typical Otaku sh*t.... " Excel let out
a low laugh "like what am I gonna survive from zombies or some mutated beasts
'hahahahah' " he laughed hysterically
*ruffle*
Excel froze. His laughter cut short, machete raised. The sound came from the
grass just ahead—low, subtle, like something shifting.
He crouched, eyes darting across the swaying green. The city-forest seemed to
breathe with him, the silence louder than any noise.
Then—movement.
A bush stirred. Slowly. Deliberately.
Excel's grip tightened. His heart hammered, torn between fight and flight.
Okay, okay, relax. Could be a lizard. Could be a goat. Could be—
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