The Labyrinth didn't need to shout anymore.
It didn't need to hijack the sky or silence the world again. It simply existed—quiet, patient, and counting down inside every eligible person's vision like a second clock layered over reality.
Evan discovered that twelve hours was a long time when you couldn't do anything meaningful with it. He tried, at first, to be productive.
Then he ran out of productive things that didn't feel like rearranging deck chairs on a sinking ship. So, he did what he always did when he didn't know what else to do: he defaulted to routine.
By late morning, he was in the backyard doing push-ups on cold concrete, hoodie tossed aside, breath fogging faintly in the winter air. The move had landed them somewhere with a bite to the temperature—enough to make your joints feel it, enough to make your muscles wake up fast.
His body remembered training even if his mind wanted to pretend everything was normal.
Ten. Twenty. By thirty his arms trembled. He stopped and rolled onto his back, staring up at the pale sky. In the corner of his vision, the interface hovered like a quiet threat.
[Time Remaining: 07:08:44]
Evan let out a slow breath and sat up, rubbing his wrists. The workout helped—at least in the way punching a wall helped, which was to say it gave frustration somewhere to go. But the pressure behind his sternum—the bond to his egg—never eased.
Inside, the house creaked softly, settling into a place it hadn't earned yet. Boxes still lined the walls. Their backpacks sat half-packed near the door, a quiet reminder that Elara's plan had become the closest thing they had to control.
He went back inside, made a simple lunch—anything that required minimal thought—and ate standing at the kitchen counter, eyes drifting toward the table.
Evan poked his egg once with a knuckle as if it might flicker back to iridescent if he annoyed it enough.
It did not.
He cleaned up, washed the plate, then did what he'd been trying not to do all morning. He opened his laptop.
The internet had come back hours ago. Devices functioned again. Which meant humanity had returned to its favorite coping mechanism: oversharing.
Forums were exploding. Social media platforms were a wildfire of posts and clips and screenshots—some panicked, some analytical, some… weirdly celebratory.
A headline flashed in one tab: "SYSTEM ANNOUNCEMENT: GOVERNMENTS ISSUE JOINT STATEMENT—REMAIN CALM."
Another: "LIVE HATCHING EVENTS DRAW MILLIONS—'BEAST REVEALS' TRENDING WORLDWIDE."
Evan scrolled, mouth slightly open.
"Of course," he muttered. "Of course someone turned this into content."
The first livestream he clicked was underwhelming.
A teenager—grinning too hard, trying to sound fearless—had propped their phone against a stack of books. Behind them, parents argued off-camera. The egg sat in the center of the frame, shimmering.
The chat spammed:
HATCH IT
DO IT DO IT DO IT!!
BRO THIS IS HISTORY
$5 DONATION: IF ITS A DRAGON I WILL CRY
The streamer pressed the hatch option dramatically.
A flash of light filled the frame. The egg lifted slightly, the glow intensifying. The video quality dipped—auto-exposure freaking out—and then the light faded.
A fox blinked at the camera.
A completely normal-looking fox, except for the fact it had just been born from an ostrich-sized cosmic egg.
The chat erupted anyway.
FOX! LETS GO
COMMON BUT CUTE
IS IT RARE??
WHAT ARE THE STATS!??
The streamer read out loud clumsily:
[BEAST TAMING SYSTEM — ACTIVATED]
[Beast: Red Fox]
[Talent Rank: BLACK IRON]
[Strength: BLACK IRON (-)]
[Description: A cunning scavenger of forests and shrubs…]
Evan watched the streamer squeal with excitement like they'd won the lottery.
Evan closed the tab and clicked another.
A man in a warehouse, wearing tactical gear and a camera rig, spoke to tens of thousands of viewers like he was launching a product.
"Alright, people," the man said, voice steady, professional. "We're doing this safely. Perimeter secured. No one enters the zone after hatch. We have medical staff and containment ready—"
Evan frowned. Containment?
The man pressed the option.
The light flared. The egg levitated. The warehouse's overhead lights flickered. For a second, the footage washed out into pure white.
Then something small, scuttled forward: A lizard.
A dull green lizard that looked like it belonged on a pet store rock under a heat lamp.
The man stared at it for a full three seconds, as if waiting for the lizard to transform into something worthy of the speech he'd just delivered.
The chat spammed laughing emojis.
Evan huffed a quiet laugh and leaned back. "So it's really random."
That should have been reassuring.
Instead, it made his stone egg feel heavier.
He clicked through more streams and clips.
Deer. Birds. Cats. Small wolves. A lot of wolves.
Every time someone hatched, the Beast Taming System appeared, confirming what Elara had learned: talent rank, strength, and descriptions that were sometimes hints.
Most beasts were…normal.
And then, amid the normal, the abnormal began to surface.
A clip from somewhere rural: a wolf that stepped from the fading light and stood chest-high to a grown man. Its fur was darker than night, and its eyes glowed faintly like embers under ash.
Another: a bear—not a "giant bear" in the way the internet exaggerated everything, but a bear that made everyone in the video stumble backward with genuine fear. It moved with unnatural smoothness, too controlled for something that big.
And then the clip that made Evan sit forward so fast his knees bumped the table:
A lion. Its mane burned. Not metaphorically—literally.
Fire licked through golden hair as if it belonged there, contained, flickering without consuming. The lion's eyes were calm and old, and when it exhaled, the air shimmered with heat.
The person filming whispered, voice shaking: "Talent rank—Silver."
Evan stared, pulse quickening. "If a lion could have a mane of fire…What else was possible?"
Evan scrolled seeking more.
There were claims of "dragons." Most were fake. Some were obvious AI—too smooth, too perfect, too cinematic. Others were real but misleading: a big lizard with a frill, someone calling it a dragon to rack up views.
Evan's eyes narrowed as he watched one suspicious clip: a "gryphon" that moved like a looping animation. The shadows didn't match. He closed the tab and stared at his reflection in the dark laptop screen.
Humanity hadn't even entered the Labyrinth, and it was already lying for likes. He sighed and leaned back, letting his gaze drift to the kitchen.
If he hadn't delayed, he would've known. He would've had his own Beast Taming System. He would've had answers, however small.
Instead, he had a sealed egg and a warning about being alone.
Evan mocked himself silently, because if he didn't, the fear would do it for him.
He drummed his fingers on the table, restless, and checked the countdown.
[Time Remaining: 04:02:11]
His stomach tightened. Elara was still asleep. She'd gone down hard after the all-nighter, insisting she'd rather hatch awake and focused than exhausted and impulsive. Evan respected that.
He tried to occupy himself with packing: tightening straps on backpacks, checking pockets, making sure the first aid kit actually contained the things first aid kits were supposed to contain.
Bandages. Gauze. Alcohol wipes. Painkillers.
It felt absurd to prepare for an unknown trial with items meant for weekend camping trips.
Then again, absurd was the baseline now.
He wandered into the living room and did what Elara would've done if she'd been awake: inventory.
Shoes. Layers. Flashlights. Batteries. Water bottles.
Evan paused by the closet where they'd shoved winter gear during the move. He pulled out two jackets, checked their pockets, then held one up to the light.
It looked… small. Thin.
Not enough for something called the Labyrinth.
[Time Remaining: 03:52:26]
He stopped hesitating. He went to Elara's door and knocked lightly.
No answer. He knocked again.
"Lara," he called softly. "You alive?"
Silence.
Evan hesitated. The last thing he wanted was to disrupt her sleep for no reason. But the clock in his vision ticked down like a heartbeat he couldn't ignore. He cracked the door open.
Elara lay on her side, hair spilled across the pillow like pale snow, face relaxed in a way she rarely allowed herself. She looked younger like this—less like a prodigy, more like a girl who'd moved too many times and carried too much expectation.
Evan stepped inside carefully, the floor creaking under his socked feet.
"Elara," he said, a little louder. "Hey."
Her eyelids fluttered. Then her eyes snapped open, sharp even half-awake.
"What," she rasped, voice rough. "Timer?"
"Four hours left," Evan said.
Elara blinked once, processing. Then she pushed herself upright with a controlled exhale, as if she could physically force exhaustion out of her lungs.
Evan hovered in the doorway. "You should eat."
Elara's gaze narrowed slightly. "I'm not hungry."
"That's not an answer," Evan said. "That's a strategy to die quietly."
Elara stared at him for a second—then, to Evan's surprise, a small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.
"Did you just lecture me?" she asked.
"Desperate times," Evan said. "Come on. Protein bar. Something. You're about to bind yourself to a random creature from an unknown system. Maybe don't do it on an empty tank."
Elara swung her legs out of bed, posture still composed despite the shadows under her eyes. "Fine," she said. "One bar. And coffee."
Evan grinned. "Now you're speaking my language."
They moved to the kitchen together, and the first thing her eyes did was snap to the egg.
It shimmered on the table, unchanged, patient.
Opposite it, Evan's stone egg sat like a silent verdict.
Elara's gaze lingered on the contrast. Something moved behind her expression—thought, calculation, maybe even a flicker of sympathy.
She didn't say it out loud. Elara wasn't the type to soften reality with words.
Instead, she grabbed an energy bar, tore it open, and ate standing, eyes still on the egg as if refusing to look away made her braver.
Evan poured coffee into two mugs. The smell filled the kitchen, familiar enough to ground him for a second.
Elara took her mug without thanks but with the quiet trust that was better than gratitude.
They sat at the table; Evan slid his laptop toward her. "Look at what happened while you slept."
Elara took a bite of the bar, then leaned in.
Evan scrolled through the saved clips and threads, showing her the key ones—the lion with the mane of fire, the bear-sized wolf, the flood of Beast Taming System posts. Elara watched silently, eyes narrowing at each frame, mind running faster than her body wanted to.
When he finished, she took a slow sip of coffee and set the mug down carefully.
"So," she said. "What are you thinking?"
Evan paused.
He hadn't intended to say it out loud because saying it out loud made it real. But Elara wasn't asking for entertainment. She was asking for something useful.
"I think," he said slowly, "that it's not limited to normal animals. Not fully. Like… it's pulling from something else. Or it's mutating them on hatch. The hints in the Beast Taming System that's not something you include if everything stays normal."
Elara's gaze sharpened. "Legends."
Evan nodded. "Yeah. Legends. Folklore. Myth." He hesitated, then added, "I know it sounds like I'm letting my hobby brain run wild. But that lion—fire mane—doesn't happen without the system doing something."
Elara's eyes flicked to the egg. "So you think gryphons are possible."
Evan almost laughed, except the sound died in his throat.
"I think it's possible," he corrected. "Not guaranteed. Not common. But possible."
Elara leaned back, the chair creaking. "And you think most of the crazy videos are fake."
"Some are," Evan said quickly. "AI is everywhere. People want attention. And a lizard doesn't get clicks like a dragon does."
Elara nodded, expression grim. "But some might be real."
Silence settled for a moment, broken only by the faint hum of the refrigerator and the slow, hypnotic shimmer of Elara's egg.
Evan checked the interface again.
[Time Remaining: 02:58:03]
Elara set her empty wrapper aside and straightened like she was stepping back onto a field.
"Two hours," she said suddenly.
Evan blinked. "What?"
"We hatch at two hours," Elara said, voice firm. "That gives us time to deal with whatever comes out. Time to read the Beast Taming System panel. Time to—" She cut herself off, jaw tightening. "Time."
Evan swallowed. "Okay."
Elara looked at him then. Really looked.
"You're restless," she said.
Evan snorted. "Wow. Good observation."
Elara didn't smile. "I mean it. Don't spiral."
He stared at his coffee. The surface reflected his face, eyes darker than usual.
"I'm trying not to," he admitted.
Elara's gaze softened a fraction. "You delayed while half asleep," she said. "That isn't the same as choosing to be stupid awake."
Evan blinked at her.
That was… almost comforting. In Elara language.
He managed a small smile. "Thank you for the pep talk."
Elara's eyes narrowed. "Don't get used to it."
Evan chuckled softly.
Then the timer continued its ruthless descent, and the humor dissolved into something heavier.
They spent the next hour checking back packs—tightening straps, double-checking supplies, stuffing simple food rations into side pockets. Evan watched Elara move through the motions with practiced discipline, like preparing for a game.
When Evan checked the countdown again, his throat tightened.
[Time Remaining: 02:00:12]
The kitchen felt smaller suddenly, as if the air had thickened.
Elara stepped toward the table. Her egg shimmered calmly, almost innocent in its beauty.
Evan stood a few feet back, hands half-raised like he wasn't sure whether he should help or stay out of the way.
Elara's fingers hovered over empty air.
The otherworldly interface blossomed in front of her, bright and crisp:
[Choose: Hatch immediately or Delay hatching]
Elara's throat bobbed as she swallowed.
For the first time since Evan had known her, her hand trembled.
It wasn't fear in the way people used the word casually. It was the body recognizing a moment that would split life into before and after. Her fingers steadied as if her will had grabbed her muscles by the collar and forced them into obedience.
Slowly, carefully, she moved her fingertip toward the glowing option.
[Hatch immediately.]
A chime rang—not from any device, not from any speaker—directly through the bones, resonant and absolute.
[Selection confirmed: HATCHING INITIATED.]
The egg flared. Light exploded across the kitchen—so bright Evan's eyes squeezed shut on instinct. For a moment, the world became pure white, edges erased, shadows burned away. Evan heard Elara suck in a breath, heard the chair scrape as he stumbled backward.
When Evan dared to crack his eyes open, he saw the egg lifting off the table. Not wobbling, not falling—rising smoothly as if gravity had been politely asked to step aside. The iridescence intensified, colors spinning faster, collapsing into something almost solid, like molten light.
Then the egg began to change.
The shell rippled. The shape bulged outward, stretched, compressed. It expanded, as if something inside was unfolding. Elara stood rigid, eyes narrowed against the brightness, one hand raised to shield her face.
The egg elongated.
A silhouette formed in the blinding glow—four legs, a long tail, a powerful body.
Evan's mind supplied names without permission: Lion. Wolf. Panther. Tiger.
The shape grew larger for a heartbeat—big enough that Evan's instincts screamed predator—and then, just as suddenly, it began to shrink. The silhouette condensed, tightening. Slowly, like a curtain falling, the brightness receded until the kitchen returned—table, chairs, backpacks, half-packed life.
And where the egg had been, a cat sat.
It was white—fur like fresh snow under moonlight, clean and striking in the dim kitchen. Its body was sleek and muscular, clearly built for movement rather than lounging. Bigger than any domestic cat Evan had ever seen, but not enormous. A predator that belonged in forests and mountains, not in a suburban kitchen surrounded by moving boxes.
Its ears flicked. Its tail swayed once, controlled.
Then it lifted its head and looked at Elara.
Crystal-blue eyes met something else—something sharper, older, aware.
Elara didn't move.
Evan didn't move.
The cat's gaze slid briefly to Evan—assessing, calm, unreadable—then returned to Elara.
And in the air, new text assembled, luminous and clean:
[BEAST TAMING SYSTEM — ACTIVATED]
[Contract Holder: ELARA CROSS]
[Beast: …]
The name field flickered, loading.
Evan swallowed hard, dread and wonder tangling in his chest.
Elara's hand rose slowly, not to touch the cat yet, but to reach toward the hovering panel—toward the answers they'd been chasing all day.
The cat sat perfectly still, poised and attentive, as if it had been waiting for her all along.