The sun was up early that morning. Too early.
A faint golden haze crept through the blinds, slicing the dim light of Hydro's apartment into strips. Dust drifted through the air - those tiny floating memories of people who used to breathe here, live here, laugh here.
The sound of the city wasn't normal anymore.
Outside, voices clashed - human ones mixed with... others. You could hear chatter about "fictional" beings living in the same block now, like characters from old anime or games walking around like tourists. Some were confused. Some violent. Some just lost.
Hydro stood in front of an open duffel bag.
His hands were slow, methodical, folding shirts like someone who didn't care about wrinkles but still respected the act of leaving right. A small TV murmured in the background - static and faint news feeds from the chaos outside.
"...reports confirm that several regions are now experiencing localized rifts. Authorities urge everyone to relocate if fictional entities are spotted in their area..."
Hydro zipped his jacket halfway and sighed, leaning back against the wall. His eyes were dark from no sleep - that restless kind where you don't dream because your mind's still running marathons through memories.
He muttered under his breath, voice dry, almost tired.
"This place used to be quiet."
He crouched, grabbing another box from the side of the bed.
Cables. Lenses. A camera - the one he used for freelance gigs, the one that made him feel human. He wiped the dust off the lens and just stared at it.
"You've seen too much," he whispered, a faint smirk tugging his lips, but it faded quick.
Hydro tucked the camera carefully into its case, layering it between foam and old shirts. He paused, eyes moving across the room - every object had some piece of his past attached: the cracked mirror near the window, the cup with fading coffee stains, that old photo taped to the fridge door.
It wasn't just a room anymore. It was a timeline.
And now it was being sold.
He heard footsteps outside the door. A voice followed - calm but firm.
"Mr. Undergrove?"
Hydro froze. Didn't answer right away.
The knock came next.
"It's Mika. The property agent. Can I come in?"
"Yeah," Hydro replied, standing up slowly.
The door creaked open, revealing a woman in a gray coat holding a tablet. She looked out of place - too clean for this neighborhood now that half the block was filled with wandering "fictional" beings and lost citizens.
"Sorry to bother you again," she said, stepping in cautiously. "The new owner's agent will be here in an hour to inspect the place. You said you'd be out by then, right?"
Hydro nodded, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Yeah, I'm just finishing up. You can tell them they can have it."
"You sure?" she asked gently. "You've lived here for... what, eight years?"
"Nine," Hydro corrected quietly. "But it doesn't feel like that anymore."
Mika hesitated, glancing at the half-packed boxes and the few still-open drawers.
"It's happening everywhere, you know. The fiction bleed. People are leaving cities in waves. I heard Tokyo's gone dark entirely. They say it's like two worlds trying to overwrite each other."
Hydro zipped his last bag shut.
"Yeah," he said flatly. "I noticed."
"Do you have somewhere to go?" she asked, cautious but genuine.
Hydro looked out the window. The horizon shimmered faintly - that eerie glow that came when the air bent wrong, when reality trembled just a bit.
"I'll figure it out," he said. "I always do."
Mika looked like she wanted to say something - maybe an apology, maybe a goodbye - but she just nodded instead.
"Alright. I'll let the buyers know you're out. Stay safe, okay?"
Hydro just gave her a short nod. She left quietly.
When the door clicked shut, silence filled the room again - heavier than before.
He stood there for a long minute, staring at nothing. Then he whispered:
"So that's it, huh..."
He grabbed his jacket, slung his bag over his shoulder, and started loading everything into boxes by the door. The apartment was starting to echo now - the kind of hollow echo that only happens when a place is officially no longer a home.
Outside, the air smelled different. Like ozone and asphalt, like rain before it falls. Hydro's Mercedes Benz Truck - modified, bulky, six-wheeled beast of a machine - sat waiting by the curb. The cybernetic tent on top gleamed faintly under the morning light, folded tight like a cocoon ready to expand when needed.
He started hauling boxes one by one, stacking them inside the back compartment. The air was cold against his face. A group of strangers passed by - one of them looked too perfect to be human, a character straight out of a game. They glanced at him, confused, as if recognizing something in him they couldn't name.
Hydro ignored them.
"Don't stare," he muttered under his breath.
Another box. Then another. He stopped for a moment, resting his arms on the truck's open tailgate, catching his breath.
From across the street, an old man waved.
"You leaving too, kid?"
Hydro turned, nodded once.
"Yeah. Before this place gets worse."
"Smart," the man said. "They say the rifts are moving west. Whole block's been acting weird since last night. Good luck out there."
Hydro gave him a small salute.
"You too."
He loaded the last box, then stood beside the truck for a long while, just staring at his apartment. The curtains inside swayed slightly with the wind, the same way they used to on quiet nights when he'd leave the window cracked open.
"Never thought it'd end like this," he murmured.
He pulled his keys from his pocket - a simple silver ring with a chipped tag. He turned it in his palm, feeling the weight of every moment spent inside that apartment. Then, without ceremony, he tossed it onto the steps.
He climbed into the driver's seat, exhaled, and rested his hands on the steering wheel. For a second, he didn't move. He just sat there, watching the city from behind the glass.
"You really changed, huh," he said quietly, looking at the skyline. "All of us did."
He turned the ignition. The truck roared alive - deep, steady, like something mechanical with a soul. The dashboard lights flickered, reflecting across his face.
He glanced at the rearview mirror, catching one last glimpse of his apartment.
"Thanks," he said under his breath. "For keeping me alive this long."
Then he shifted gears, pressed the pedal, and the truck rolled forward.
The sound of tires over cracked pavement filled the street.
Hydro didn't look back this time. The road stretched out ahead, golden from the early light, flickering at the edges where reality blurred. He adjusted his glasses, the faint reflection of the city disappearing in them.
"Time to move," he muttered. "I don't know what's best for me here."
The truck's engine hummed louder. The cybernetic tent above shifted slightly, reacting to the air currents, sensors scanning for instability zones ahead. Hydro drove past the corner where he used to buy coffee, past the station with the flickering sign, past faces he didn't recognize anymore.
Every turn took him further away from who he used to be - a cameraman, an observer, a quiet kid who used to want a normal life.
But that world?
That was gone now.
And as the wind hit his window, carrying the distant echo of voices - both real and fictional - Hydro kept driving, expression steady. The city grew smaller behind him, like it was fading into a story someone else was still trying to write.
"If this world wants to rewrite itself," he whispered, eyes on the road, "then I'll be the one who remembers how it used to sound."
The truck disappeared into the horizon.
The sun climbed higher. And for the first time in a long while, the world kept turning - even if it wasn't the same world anymore.
The world stretched endlessly ahead - cracked highways splitting into silver horizons, clouds bleeding into one another like smudged watercolor.
Hydro drove in silence. No music, no radio. Just the steady hum of the engine and the faint whine of wind slipping past the windows. The world outside wasn't empty, but it felt like it was. Every now and then, a billboard flickered - half of it real, half rewritten by the rift's interference. A smiling model's face glitched into a digital haze, then reset into some character that shouldn't exist in this reality.
He didn't slow down.
Didn't even flinch.
The tires rolled over old paint lines and fallen leaves. The six-wheeled truck moved like a beast born from two centuries - half muscle, half code. The cybernetic tent above shimmered faintly as it analyzed the environment, data streams crawling across the digital dash in slow, lazy waves.
Speed: 87 km/h.
Stability: 98%.
Reality Distortion: Moderate.
Hydro's reflection stared back at him from the side window. His eyes looked sharp but tired, like someone who's been awake for too many lives. His hair, messy and half-grown, flickered faintly in the light - strands catching the sunrise like tiny threads of silver.
The road carried him through forgotten places - the outskirts of what used to be city borders. Signs were bent. Trees grew from the sides of cracked parking lots. Fictional creatures wandered the edges - a tall armored figure crossing the street with a grocery bag, a cat speaking softly to a human child, a drone scanning a park bench like it was waiting for someone to respawn.
It wasn't chaos everywhere. It was something weirder... acceptance. The world wasn't fighting the merge anymore. It was adapting.
Hydro's hands gripped the wheel, steady, patient. He passed through tunnels where the walls shimmered like molten glass. He crossed bridges hanging over water that reflected two skies - one blue, one distorted. He could feel the temperature drop, rise, drop again. Every kilometer felt like moving through different timelines stacked on top of each other.
He kept driving. Past an abandoned diner where neon letters still blinked EAT HERE. Past fields that looked like the ocean, rippling with silver grass. Past old train tracks that led nowhere, with ghost lights floating above them.
And in between, flashes of memory flickered through his head - people laughing at the studio, a coffee mug left on a desk, late nights editing photos, quiet mornings when the city still had rules.
He drove through noon. Through dusk. Through the kind of silence that hums louder than sound. The sky began to fade orange, clouds stretching like molten gold.
Hydro slowed the truck down when he spotted an open lot - a wide, flat cement ground beside a broken overpass. It looked safe enough, untouched, silent.
He parked. The engine sighed, ticking softly as it cooled. Hydro leaned back, staring through the windshield for a long minute. His shoulders relaxed for the first time since morning. The truck's lights dimmed, leaving him surrounded by soft dusk.
He turned off the ignition. The silence that followed was heavy, but peaceful - the kind that wraps around you like a blanket after noise.
Hydro opened the door and stepped out. The wind was cool, brushing past his hair. The scent of distant rain drifted through the air. From here, the horizon looked infinite - cities blurred into clouds, mountains fading into mist.
He walked a few steps away from the truck, just enough to see the edge of the overpass and the open land beyond. He stood there, hands in his jacket pockets, watching the sky shift colors.

The fading sunlight hit his glasses, turning them gold.
He tilted his head slightly, exhaling.
For a moment, he thought about cutting his hair - just something simple, a small reset, a way to feel like someone new.
*Maybe I need that,* he thought. *A haircut. A restart.*
His phone buzzed. He blinked, pulled it out of his pocket. Unknown number - but the ID tag glowed faintly blue. He already knew who it was.
He swiped answer.
"Yeah?"
The voice that came through was loud, full of life - the kind of tone that could cut through any gloom.
"Heyyy!! How's my retired photographer doing? You alright, kid?"
Hydro's lips curved faintly.
"Hey, boss."
"Don't 'hey boss' me, you sound like you're sixty. You good?"
"I'm fine," Hydro said quietly. "Just transferring to another home. Somewhere quiet."
There was a pause on the line - the kind of pause filled with someone who actually cares.
"Ahh, I see. You always did like quiet places." The man chuckled softly. "Well, I got some news for ya, kiddo. Don't freak out, alright?"
Hydro leaned against the side of his truck, staring at the sunset.
"...What news?"
"I'm sending you one million dollars."
Hydro's eyebrows raised slightly.
"What?"
"You heard me. One million. I'm not doing this for money's sake - hell, I don't even care about that crap. I just... y'know, I've helped a lot of people in my time. And when someone's worked hard for nine years, I think they deserve something that means 'you mattered.' You did. You worked hard, Hydro. You gave that studio heart."
Hydro stayed silent for a while. The wind picked up, brushing past his jacket.
"...Thanks," he said finally. The tone was emotionless, but his eyes softened a bit.
"You sound like a robot, kid. Don't do that."
Hydro let out a faint breath - not quite a laugh, but close.
"I'm just tired. Yesterday was... a lot."
"Yeah, your retirement celebration. You remember? You barely even said goodbye before running off." The boss laughed, voice echoing faintly through static. "You worked your ass off, kid. That's why I love helping people like you. Not because I have to, but because I want to. Y'know? Bossing people around never made me happy. Helping did."
Hydro closed his eyes for a second. The golden light brushed against his face.
"Yeah. I know what you mean."
There was a quiet moment on the line - both of them just breathing. Then the boss's tone shifted, a bit worried now.
"You sound distant, Hydro. Everything alright? You're not... burnt out or anything, are you?"
Hydro hesitated. The words didn't come easy.
"I'm fine," he said. "Just... moving on, I guess."
"Don't lie to me, kid. I've known you since you were sixteen. You go quiet when things hit too close. You don't have to say it, just- listen, don't let the world mess you up, alright? Whatever's going on out there, you're still human. That's what matters."
Hydro finally smiled, a real one this time - small, tired, but honest.
"I'll keep that in mind."
"Good. Now don't make me worry about you more than I already do."
"Heh."
"Tell you what - meet me tomorrow, yeah? Not at the office. Somewhere calm. I got a family thing, and I'd rather not spend it answering calls from work. We'll grab coffee. My treat. Don't tire yourself out, kid."
Hydro nodded, even though the man couldn't see him.
"Sure thing."
"Good. Take care, Hydro. You've done enough for one lifetime."
"...Thanks, boss."
"No problem. Later, kiddo."
The line clicked off.
Hydro slipped his phone back into his pocket. The silence returned - but this time, it wasn't heavy. It was gentle. He looked at the horizon again. The last traces of sunlight sank behind the clouds, painting the sky in deep blue.
His reflection on the truck window caught his eye - the same tired eyes, the same uneven hair, the same calm expression.
He took a deep breath.
Then whispered,
"Maybe I'll actually get that haircut tomorrow."
The wind carried his voice away.
He climbed back into the truck, not to drive - just to sit. The engine stayed off. The stars began to form above him, flickering between realities, some real, some rewritten.
Hydro leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes for a while. For the first time in days, he felt... still.
The world outside could glitch, twist, or burn - but for now, it was just him, a parked truck, and a sky that hadn't decided what story it wanted to tell yet. The night was quiet - too quiet.
Hydro leaned back in his seat, eyes half-shut, listening to the hum of the wind outside. His truck rested on that empty cement lot, lights dimmed, engine cooled. The stars above looked fractured - like the sky itself was lagging.
Then the air changed.
At first, it was subtle - a low rumble beneath his boots, like thunder miles away. But then it grew sharper, deeper, crawling through the ground and up his spine. The glass on the dash began to rattle.
Hydro's eyes snapped open.
"What the hell's going on?"
He stepped out of the truck. The air smelled like burning circuits. The ground was trembling, vibrating like something huge was moving underneath.
He backed up a step. The tremor became a quake.
"-Shit."
The cement beneath his boots cracked, splitting open in jagged lines that pulsed with blue light. The sky flickered, like someone dragged a glitch effect across the atmosphere. And then-
BOOM.
The ground exploded behind him.
A wave of dirt and debris shot upward as something enormous burst through the surface - a worm, if you could even call it that. Its skin wasn't organic - it was a mesh of flesh and static, metal plates fused with corrupted pixels, its segments phasing in and out of existence like bad code trying to take shape.
It screamed - a deep, echoing distortion that wasn't sound, but data tearing reality apart.
Hydro stumbled back, shielding his face.
"Are you kidding me!?"
The worm lunged. Instinct took over. Hydro sprinted back toward his truck, yanked the door open, and dove inside. He slammed the ignition - the engine roared to life like a beast answering a call.
"Come on, come on-"
He gripped the wheel and slammed the pedal. The truck surged forward, tires screeching across the broken concrete as the worm tore through the ground behind him.
The headlights cut through clouds of dust, flickering shadows across the terrain. The worm chased close - faster than it had any right to be, tearing up the road like it was paper. Every slam of its body sent shockwaves through the ground, lifting the truck off balance for split seconds.
Hydro's breath quickened. He downshifted, drifted the truck into a wide turn, the rear wheels spitting dust and sparks.
"Don't you dare hit my ride-!"
The worm lunged again, its massive head smashing into the road just meters behind the truck. Asphalt split, chunks flying in all directions. Hydro jerked the wheel hard left, barely missing a spiraling crater.
The dashboard screamed warnings - STABILITY: 68% - ROAD SURFACE ANOMALY DETECTED.
"Yeah, no shit."
He drove faster, pushing 120 km/h down the cracked highway. The world around him glitched - trees pixelated, flickering between shapes. The worm's reflection flashed in the mirror like a broken TV screen - its segments bending light itself.
Hydro's heart pounded against his ribs. Every muscle in his arm strained as he fought to keep control of the steering.
A massive slam behind - the worm struck the road again, and the shockwave hit like a bomb. The truck lifted half off the ground for a split second before crashing back down, the rear suspension screaming.
"Goddamn it-!"
Hydro grabbed the manual clutch, pulled the truck into lower gear, and used the burst of torque to straighten out. The vehicle roared, shaking the air with each rev.
The creature lunged again, closer now. He could see its texture breaking - its mouth forming and unforming, filled with lines of glowing symbols instead of teeth.
Hydro's jaw tightened. He flicked the safety switch on the dashboard. Shadows began to stretch under the truck, bleeding outward like oil.
He reached his left hand out - black mist crawled up his sleeve, merging with the floor.
"Hold it off."
The shadow beneath the truck moved.
It rippled outward, forming into humanoid figures - his Shadow Soldiers, silent as ghosts, born from his darkness. Their eyes glowed faintly purple as they sprinted alongside the moving truck, running impossibly fast, keeping pace across fractured ground.
One of them leapt onto the worm's body, sinking a blade of shadow into its flesh. The creature roared, its voice distorted into static waves. Another soldier dove at its head, anchoring himself and driving a spear into one of its glitching eyes.
Hydro kept driving, steering one-handed, watching from the mirrors as his shadows swarmed the monster. They moved like water - coordinated, fast, precise. Each strike left dark streaks burning across the worm's segments.
But the creature wasn't just strong - it was wrong.
It let out a deep hum, then detonated a shockwave from its body. The pulse hit like thunder. The shadow soldiers flew apart, their forms scattering into dust and fading into the ground. The worm's wounds healed instantly, pixels crawling back into place.
Hydro hissed through his teeth.
"Tch-damn thing's adapting."
The worm rose again, towering high - almost vertical now, its head turning toward him.
Hydro reached to the seat beside him, flipping a latch. A heavy metallic click echoed. He pulled out his Pump-Charged Shotgun - a black, brutal weapon built like something out of a fever dream. The kind that screamed power even before firing.
Its surface was scratched and worn, but the charging mechanism hummed alive as he slid the first shell in. The Overpump system on the side blinked green.
"Alright," he muttered, loading three shells. "Time to fish you out with the fishes."
The worm lunged. Hydro swerved the truck hard to the right, rolled down the window, and leaned halfway out while steering with one arm. The wind tore at his face, his hair whipping violently.
He fired once.
BOOM.
The shotgun bucked violently - the slug tore through the worm's upper jaw, blowing a clean hole through its glitched texture. Fragments of glowing data burst out like fireworks.
He pumped the gun - the mechanism *clacked*, recharging the chamber. The barrel glowed orange from the heat.
The worm screamed, body twisting midair.
Hydro steadied himself, loading another shell.
"Come on, come on-"
He fired again. The blast hit dead center - another explosion of distorted particles. The worm's front end slammed into the ground, tearing a trench through the asphalt.
Hydro used the moment to swing the truck around, tires screeching. The smell of burnt rubber filled the air.
He pumped the shotgun once more, holding the trigger this time. The Pump Charge glowed brighter, whirring louder as energy built up inside the chamber. The weapon hissed, venting heat, until the light hit red.
He aimed.
"End of the line."
He fired.
The gun unleashed a charged blast - the kind that made the air bend. The recoil slammed Hydro's shoulder back against the seat, but the shot hit dead-on.
The worm's head erupted in a column of white-hot light, vaporizing into static dust. The blast's shockwave split the road open, sending waves of dirt and smoke billowing into the sky.
Hydro held the wheel tight, forcing the truck to a stop. The tires screamed against the concrete. Dust engulfed everything.
He breathed heavily, smoke clouding his view.
For a few seconds, there was nothing. No movement. No sound.
Then - faint flickers of light in the haze.
He stepped out slowly, shotgun still warm in his hand. The air shimmered.
The worm's remains started breaking apart - its body crumbling into pixel fragments, glowing faintly pink and gold. The pieces floated upward, dissolving into the wind, like someone erasing a glitch frame by frame.
Hydro's eyes widened. He recognized that pattern - he'd seen it before, somewhere deep in another timeline, another reality. The "death effect" from a story that shouldn't be real.
"No way..." he whispered.
The last fragments shimmered - then faded completely, leaving only dust.
Hydro stood there, the night wind brushing through his hair. He looked around - the world was quiet again, save for the crackling sound of cooling metal.
He lowered the shotgun, its heat fading into the night. His heart still hammered.
> "It's getting worse," he muttered to himself. "They're crossing over... not just the people. The monsters too."
The sky flickered faintly overhead, a small distortion pulsing like a heartbeat.
Hydro took a long breath, staring into the dark horizon. Then he holstered the shotgun, got back into his truck, and sat in silence for a long time before turning the engine back on.
The headlights cut through the dust.
He revved once - low and steady.
"Alright," he whispered. "I don't know what the hell just happened..."
And with that, the truck rolled forward again, taillights fading into the broken road, leaving behind nothing but silence and a hole in the earth that still flickered with digital static.