A man walked through the remains of a field littered with the charred bodies of humans and animals alike. This man, who wore a lantern with a blue flame and the tattered remains of once-great armor, looked over the scene of devastation. His face bore a complex expression—joy, yet sorrow; fear, yet elation. He stopped walking, fell to his knees, and let his arms hang limply at his sides.
This man, who was destined for death, screamed to the heavens—a vulgar war cry, a declaration to the world that he had survived his execution.
But who is this man?
It was a windy day here in the Antarctic Center. The wind swept by, kicking up snow that had long since fallen. Upon the icy roads of Falcon Scott walked a man. This man, who looked to be in a hurry, had short brown hair and bags under his eyes. His face held a pale, exhausted expression. He wore a thick coat that ran down to his knees and sweatpants to stay warm. His shoes were nothing special, just padded boots to keep his feet from freezing.
Under his breath, he murmured, "Crap, crap, crap." His hurried walking turned into a jog, then into a full sprint.
He was late for work. He had snoozed his alarm and was now running behind. He hadn't even had time to drink his morning coffee before leaving hungry and tired, he sprinted to work.
After a minute of weaving through crowds, he could see the agency center. He burst through the door, only to be stopped by security, who asked to see his ID card.
The card read:
Name: Noah
Last Name: Brooks
Age: 24
ID: 440986972
Height: 5'10"
Occupation: Sensor Maintenance
The security guard looked at the ID, handed it back to him, and nodded.
"You're free to go, sir."
Noah nodded back and kept walking. Wheezing and out of breath, he made his way to the employee lounge for his much-needed cup of coffee.
As the synthetic coffee brewed, his mind drifted to the day ahead. He started making a mental list of tasks to complete. After a few minutes, the machine stopped making noises—his coffee was ready. He poured it into a mug, took a deep breath to enjoy the smell, sighed, and took a sip.
Today was Maintenance Day, which was essentially glorified menial labor. All it entailed was checking the sensors scattered across the city. Not the most exciting thing to do, especially on a cold day like this, but work is work.
Still, he considered himself lucky not to have been hit by the Nightmare Spell when he was of age. He'd take sensor maintenance over fighting horrible creatures any day—or so he told himself.
After finishing his coffee, he went out into the cold for another day in the field. As expected, nothing special happened. The day was steeped in mediocrity just another set of repetitive, simple tasks. He fixed sensors, chatted briefly with the people around town, and occasionally stared at his watch, eager for the day to end.
When the clock hit 6:00, Noah could not have been happier. It had been a slog of a day. He just wanted to go home and sleep.
On the way home, his communicator buzzed. It was a message from his friend Ashton, asking if he wanted to hang out. Torn between going home and seeing his friend, Noah paused in the middle of the street, weighing his options. After a short debate, he decided that catching up wouldn't be so bad he hadn't seen Ashton in a while.
At the restaurant, he met Ashton and some other friends. Ashton had been a close friend for many years and had been infected by the Nightmare Spell long ago. In fact, that's how Noah had met the others in the group; they were Ashton's cohort.
There was Liz, the archer of the group; Bryan, the tank; and Light, the healer. Ashton was the swordsman, a well-rounded fighter.
Noah hadn't seen them in some time, so it was nice to catch up. But it quickly became obvious that he didn't have much to contribute. Aside from a slightly hectic morning, Noah's life was uneventful.
Ashton, on the other hand, had plenty of stories to tell. The conversation quickly became one-sided, with Noah simply listening as Ashton and his cohort shared tales of their travels.
Noah didn't mind. In fact, he enjoyed hearing the Awakened speak of their harrowing adventures. Their stories were so grand and surreal, they felt like fairy tales.
After a long night of storytelling, it was time to head home. He didn't want to be late for work again.
One month later
After many days of darkness, the sun had finally appeared on the horizon. After such a long absence, it was refreshing to see it again. It was the perfect day for a peaceful stroll to work.
Noah got out of bed and began brewing coffee, then got dressed. Since it was warmer, he wore cargo pants with thermal layers underneath, a long-sleeve shirt, and a nice brown overcoat. He also put on his old reliable padded boots.
Ready to go, he poured coffee into a disposable cup and headed out.
The walk to work was serene. The sun was just rising, casting a warm glow across the desolate streets. Despite the coffee, Noah still felt groggy. odd, but he figured he'd just stayed up too late on his phone.
He entered the agency building with a smile. Handing the guard his ID, he decided to make small talk.
"Good morning, sir," Noah said, trying to sound casual.
The guard, slightly surprised by the conversation, replied, "Morning. Can I see your ID?"
"Sure," Noah said, yawning as he handed it over.
The guard looked up without lifting his head. "Long night?"
Noah chuckled, a little embarrassed. "Nah, just up on my phone."
The guard gave him a deadpan look, then handed back the ID. "Have a good day."
"You too," Noah replied, continuing on his way.
Today was another maintenance day—boring, but manageable thanks to the milder weather.
As he stepped outside, he took a deep breath. The cold Antarctic air filled his lungs, contrasting with the warm sunlight on his face. With a sharp exhale, he set off for another day of menial labor.
The day passed uneventfully until he reached a sensor near the city outskirts. He heard a faint humming from the electrical box beside it. Curious, he put on his rubber gloves and opened the box.
A wire had detached from the main transformer, nothing serious, just a quick fix.
He reattached the wire then jumped back in shock as the sirens blared.
Almost instinctively, he disconnected the transformer again. The alarm had only said:
"Open in 105."
He stood there in stunned silence then let out a nervous laugh.
That was embarrassing.
But he couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. He double-checked the system. Other than the previously detached wire, there was nothing wrong.
So… why did the alarm go off?
Then it hit him.
"If the only issue was the power source… Why did the alarm activate at all? …Shit."
Panicking, he reattached the transformer. Again, the sirens blared louder this time.
"Warning. Warning. Gate opening in 15 seconds."
His eyes widened.
"A gate? Here!? In 15 seconds?! There's no fucking way!"
"Warning. Warning. Gate opening in 10 seconds."
He felt a rising wave of despair. No time to run. No time for the Awakened to respond. No weapons. No hope.
He was just a mundane human trapped near a Gate.
"Warning. Warning. Gate opening in 5 seconds."
This was it. Is this really how it ends? He still had so much life ahead of him… people he hadn't met yet… dreams he hadn't lived.
But what could he do? He had no powers. No training. All he did was fix sensors.
His final thoughts were ones of defeat.
Then
Reality cracked. The air itself seemed to fracture, right in front of him. He felt a force pulling at him, but it stopped.
Everything went black.
His body hit the ground, unmoving. Lifeless. At the mercy of whoever or whatever came through the Gate.