DARKNESS...
That was the last thing Kean Riven remembered.
For years, his life had been nothing but screens, codes, unending demands from clients, and endless nights. He was a game designer, once called a genius by many, but in the end, no one saw how tired he was. The laughter from his team had turned to silence, the joy of creation into a quiet pain. Every deadline felt heavier than the last.
He built worlds for others to escape into... while slowly losing his own.
On the night it happened, Kean sat in front of his computer, surrounded by the glow of his monitors.
*Tick... tick... tick...*
*Click... clack... click...*
The sound of the clock and the tapping of the keyboard were the only things alive in Kean's small room. The room smelled like coffee, dust, and burnt wires. His fingers trembled as he typed. His latest project, a horror game called The Abyssal Code, was almost done with new updates. He wanted it to be perfect, real, and terrifying.
He rubbed his tired eyes. His fingers trembled over the keyboard.
"Just... one more line," he whispered.
*Click... clack... click*
The keys moved slower and slower. His body felt heavy, like it was sinking into his swivel chair.
On the screen was 'The Abyssal Code' he had been working on, which was filled with shadows and whispering faces.
He had been working on the project for five years now without rest. Deadlines. Revisions. Rejections.
No one cared about his health. They only cared about the next update.
His vision blurred.
The screen began to shake.
"No... not now..." he muttered weakly.
Then his chest tightened.
His head spun.
A long, deep ringing filled his ears.
*beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep*
He whispered, half laughing, "Guess the final boss... is me."
He fell from his swivel chair, and his fall created a loud thud.
*THUD*
Then, everything went black.
Silence...
Then came the sound of the wind.
*Whoooosh...*
Kean opened his eyes. He was lying on cold stone, not in his room. A pale blue sky hung above him, filled with slow-moving clouds that looked like smoke.
He sat up, confused. His hands were clean; no ink, no burns, no pain. The buildings around him were tall and gothic, like old castles made out of steel. The air shimmered with a strange mist that whispered as it passed his ears.
"Where... am I?" he slowly stood up, his boots echoing softly.
*Tap... tap... tap...*
Across the street, a woman in black armor walked by. Her eyes glowed faintly blue. Close to her head floated a small beast. Its size was as big as the palm of his hand. The creature was small enough to hide inside a shirt's pocket, and it also looked like a fluffy ball covered by black fur and mist.
Behind them was a strange creature (half shadow, half mist) with a mouth that kept whispering.
"Fear... feed us... fear..."
Kean stepped back in shock.
"What... what is that?!"
The woman didn't even look scared. She raised her hand, and a dark scythe appeared, shaped from smoke.
With a sharp sound.
*Whoosh*
She threw it.
*BOOM!*
The shadow creature screamed, turning into a thousand small lights. The small beast with the woman flew over and devoured the tiny scattered lights.
The woman glanced at him.
"You new here?"
Kean couldn't speak. He only nodded slowly.
She sighed. "You must've fallen through the veil. Welcome to Mournveil, the city of the living and the lost."
"Mournveil..." he whispered. The name felt heavy.
The woman walked away with her small beast, leaving behind soft trails of mist. Kean turned to look around again. People moved through the fog, pale, serious, but alive. Some carried strange weapons. Some had glowing eyes.
He saw a boy crying near a found. A man beside him touched the tears, and the drops turned into silver coins.
Kean froze.
'They... use sadness as money?'
He felt his chest tighten. Everything around him was built from pain and fear; even beauty had sorrow hidden under it.
Suddenly, a dark shape formed behind him. A whisper slid into his ear.
"You don't belong here... human from another world..."
Kean spun around. A tall ghost-like creature hovered close to him. Its face stretched, its voice broken. His body shook, and his mind screamed.
*BANG!*
A pulse of light burst from his hands. It shaped itself into a hallway like a game level. The ground turned into tiles, and the air became thick with cold wind.
He fell to his knees, breathing hard.
"I... I made this?"
The monster stepped back, hissing. His fear had created a barrier, a world built from his imagination.
He felt something stir inside him. A voice whispered in his head:
ARCHITECT OF DREAD activated.
The creature screamed as it melted into black dust. The barrier faded, leaving only silence.
Kean sat there, shaking, staring at his hands.
'This... is like a game,' he thought to himself. 'I can shape it... with fear.'
He looked at the city again. The people, the mist, the glowing sadness. Maybe this world was his punishment. Or maybe... it was his new game to design.
Far above Mournveil, the fog whispered his name.
"Kean Riven... The Architect has awakened..."
And somewhere deep below, in the endless dark, something smiled.