It was just another sluggish Monday morning. Pale shafts of sunlight filtered weakly through the narrow gaps of the blinds, scattering faint patterns across the room.
They weren't nearly strong enough to disturb the man lying sprawled across the bed, lost in a deep, peaceful sleep. That peace, however, came to a jarring end when the dreaded alarm clock began its daily duty, shattering dreams with its merciless beeping.
Ryan groaned, buried deeper under the covers for a brief moment, then blindly fumbled around the nightstand until his hand landed on the phone. With a grumble, he silenced the noise and dragged himself upright, the weight of another workday already pressing down on him.
Like clockwork, his body carried him through the motions. A warm shower to chase away the morning haze, a rushed breakfast that barely tasted like anything, and the practiced tug of pulling on office clothes. Within thirty minutes, Ryan was fully dressed, bag in hand, and stepping out of his apartment.
On the way down the stairs, a strange thought tugged at him. Today felt… different.
He couldn't say why, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. The sky was gray, the air smelled faintly of exhaust, the neighbors were already gone. Yet, for some reason, he couldn't shake the feeling that something unusual was waiting for him. Maybe the office finally restocked the breakroom snacks. Maybe someone had brought donuts.
By the time he got into his car, the city was already pulsing with life. Traffic was as unforgiving as ever, rows upon rows of cars creeping forward only to slam on brakes a few feet later. Ryan drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, half-listening to the radio, half-regretting not investing in a bike. Cycling to work had crossed his mind more than once, but then he pictured himself sweaty and rumpled, forced to shower in the company bathrooms. Just the thought was enough to dismiss the idea completely.
After what felt like an eternity of honking and red lights, he finally turned into the parking lot of the towering glass building he had trudged into every weekday for the past couple of years. The structure loomed high above him, sharp and soulless, blending in perfectly with the surrounding corporate giants.
Inside, the familiar sight of Joanna at the reception desk greeted him. She was hard to miss—always perched in her chair with oversized earrings swaying and a layer of makeup thick enough to rival a department store display. To Ryan, she gave the impression of a suburban soccer mom locked permanently in a midlife crisis, forever clinging to youthful flair.
"Good morning, Ryan! Did you have a nice weekend?" she chirped, her voice bursting with cheer that felt far too early for his groggy state.
Ryan forced a polite smile. "Same as always. How about you?" He already knew the answer.
Her eyes lit up, and right on cue, she launched into an enthusiastic retelling. "Oh, it was wonderful! Mike and I tried this new place downtown, and then we—"
Ryan listened with a faint sense of déjà vu. The story was different in details but identical in rhythm to last Monday… and the Monday before that. He adjusted the strap of his bag and nodded at the right moments, bracing himself for another round of her energetic oversharing.
After enduring Joanna's drawn-out chatter about the most trivial subjects, Ryan was finally rescued by the soft ding of the elevator. He stepped inside with quiet relief and rode it up to the fourteenth floor, grateful for the escape.
When the doors slid open, he was greeted by the sight of a wide, open-office layout. The space was calm, almost eerily quiet, with rows of empty desks waiting to be occupied. Looks like I'm one of the first in today, he thought, making his way over to his own station. Dropping his bag beside the chair, he powered up the computer and began scrolling through the pile of weekend emails that had collected in his inbox.
Ryan had been part of this company for just over two years. Most people would probably call his job boring, but he found a certain comfort in it. Numbers, spreadsheets, and financial reports didn't ask for small talk, didn't need pleasantries, they simply told him what they were, and he liked that.
Working in the financial department as a business analyst, he handled investments, and if he had to admit, he was good at it. He had a knack for spotting the stocks that would rise and steering clear of the ones destined to fall. Some called it intuition, but to Ryan, it was simply instinct—something that had always come naturally to him.
Gradually, the quiet office began to fill as more employees arrived, their voices briefly breaking the silence with greetings and half-awake conversations. Soon enough, the chatter died down, replaced by the steady tapping of keyboards and the hum of activity. Ryan glanced around, secretly holding out hope for the promised donuts that never materialized. Figures, he thought with mild disappointment.
Having dealt with the most urgent tasks, Ryan leaned back in his chair, a wave of drowsiness creeping in. Clearly, the restless night had caught up to him. Most of his colleagues had long since learned that Ryan wasn't one for idle conversation, so they tended to leave him to his work. It was exactly how he preferred it.
Laid-back yet cautious, Ryan had never been the social type. He'd always been a bit of a loner, choosing hobbies and routines that required little to no interaction with others.
Back in his teenage years, when his father insisted he pick up a sport to "get out of his room," Ryan had chosen archery, not for the thrill of competition, but because it was something he could practice alone, in silence, with nothing but his own focus and the target in front of him.
All in all, Ryan couldn't complain about his life. He had a stable, well-paying job, a supportive family, a decent apartment, and colleagues he got along with. His future looked steady, maybe even promising.
He wasn't remarkable or extraordinary, just another ordinary man blending into the crowd, and truth be told, he liked it that way. Standing out only drew eyes and questions he had no desire to answer.
His train of thought was broken when his supervisor, Jabuc, strolled over with his usual bright grin.
"Hey, buddy! Me and the guys are heading out for lunch. You in?"
Ryan hesitated for a beat before nodding. "Yeah, sure. Sounds good."
He actually liked Jabuc. People often said he was born to lead. He had a natural ease about him, the kind of charisma that made others feel seen and at ease. Ryan rarely called people friends, but Jabuc had earned that spot.
Trailing just behind was Bertram, a man who, at first glance, looked intimidatingly large and stoic. In truth, though, he was gentle, almost protective by nature. Ryan had heard that Bertram had been with Jabuc since childhood, more like a butler or caretaker than just a friend. Whatever the details, it was clear the two shared a bond deeper than most.
Ryan also knew that Jabuc came from serious money, "filthy rich" was the phrase that floated around. What amazed him was that Jabuc hadn't grown into the entitled, arrogant stereotype one might expect.
Instead, he'd become the exact opposite: approachable, grounded, and endlessly popular in the office. His sharp looks, tall build, and effortless charm didn't hurt either. Perfectly styled hair, a suit that always seemed tailored for him, and that easy, unshakable smile, he was the type people gravitated toward, especially the women in the office.
Ryan and Jabuc got along mostly because Jabuc had the rare ability to carry a conversation without forcing it. He could talk to anyone, even Ryan, who usually kept things short, and still make it feel natural. Ryan's own reputation for being quiet but reliable only made things smoother between them. That was also the reason Ryan agreed to lunch; with Jabuc there, things wouldn't be unbearably awkward.
So he grabbed his jacket and walked with Jabuc and Bertram toward the elevator, chatting casually about work and the meeting lined up after lunch.
As they reached the elevator, Ryan spotted Joanna stepping inside with her husband, Mike. The small space quickly grew crowded, with three other employees already squeezed in. Among them was Caroline.
Caroline worked in human resources, sharing office space with Ryan's department. She was a year younger than him, blonde, slim, and, whether he admitted it or not, pretty much his type.
Of course, Ryan knew better than to read too much into that. It was probably just proximity, two people of similar age who happened to see each other often. Still, she had a quiet pull on him, one he never acted on. For one, romance wasn't his strength.
And two, his past experience hadn't exactly inspired confidence. Her cheating on me with my best friend counts as "not working out," right? he thought bitterly, shoving the memory aside.
All Ryan could manage was a quick nod and a muttered "good morning", which was ridiculous, considering it was already noon. Heat crept up his neck at the slip, but Caroline seemed to take it as nothing more than a weak attempt at humor. Relief washed over him, even as he silently cringed at himself.
He wasn't naïve. Ryan knew Caroline didn't see him as anything more than a passing acquaintance, certainly not someone to waste a second thought on. Her interest was fixed elsewhere, on Jabuc. And honestly, Ryan couldn't fault her for that. Jabuc was everything he wasn't: confident, charismatic, magnetic. If anyone stood out, it was him. Yet Ryan couldn't bring himself to resent the man. How could he, when Jabuc had never been anything but kind? Even if that made him Ryan's unknowing rival in a battle Ryan had already lost, it was impossible to dislike him.
As for Ryan himself, he was as ordinary as they came. Average height, average build, short brown hair, brown eyes. A face that landed somewhere safely between plain and forgettable. Not ugly, not striking, just there.
The only thing that set him apart was the shape he'd managed to keep himself in.
Archery had started as a forced hobby back in his teenage years, but it had stuck with him. He still practiced regularly, even building a makeshift range at his parents' house.
Combined with his gym routine, one he actually committed to, he'd managed to keep a strong, steady physique. A small victory from the days he once dreamed of being an athlete.
DING!
The sharp chime of the elevator doors snapping shut pulled him back into the present. The car lurched downward, beginning its slow descent to the ground floor. Ryan's thoughts drifted lazily toward lunch, what to eat, where to go, when another sound echoed inside his head.
DING!
This time, it wasn't the elevator. The noise rang unnaturally, vibrating through his skull. Before he could even make sense of it, words burned across his vision, not on any screen, but directly inside his mind:
Initiation of the 93rd Universe confirmed.
Introduction and tutorial sequence commencing.
Ryan barely had time to register the message before the world went dark and his consciousness slipped away.