The hum of a quiet morning filled Colm’s home office, providing an unremarkable backdrop for an unexciting day. He sat hunched over his desk, his eyes glued to the screen. The sound of his typing punctuated the stillness, with line after line of code appearing on the monitor, filling the silence of his small apartment. This had become his life: working from home as a programmer, his days defined by the glow of his monitor and the gentle hum of the apartment's air conditioning. Calls or messages rarely disturbed him, just another name in a sea of remote workers, his face seen only occasionally during video meetings. The physical disconnect was easy to overlook, but today, it felt almost oppressive, weighing on him as he sipped his lukewarm coffee.
A faint sigh escaped him as he leaned back, rolling his neck to ease the stiffness in his shoulders. He’d been working at this job for years, yet every day seemed to blur into the next. He was good at it—problem-solving came naturally to him—but sometimes; he wondered if anyone would even notice if he disappeared. The thought lingered as he absentmindedly scrolled through a series of work messages, seeing the automated check-ins and meeting reminders—no real connection, just static.
He closed his messages and returned to his code, the familiar sight of his work comforting him. And then, just as he settled back into his rhythm, his screen flickered.
It was subtle, barely noticeable—a thin line of static dancing across the monitor for a fraction of a second. Colm blinked, momentarily thrown off. He waited, but the screen returned to normal, and his work remained intact. He pushed it to the back of his mind with a faint shrug, attributing it to a minor glitch. But a part of him couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.
As he continued typing, the screen flickered again, this time longer, stretching into strange, incomprehensible shapes before snapping back. Colm frowned, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. There it was again—a faint flicker, a series of symbols flashing across the display. The symbols were almost deliberate, as if they were trying to communicate.
A chill ran down his spine, and he quickly scanned the monitor for any signs of something unusual. He checked his task manager, expecting to see maybe a rogue process eating up resources, but everything seemed normal. He ran a scan, his fingers tapping impatiently on the desk as he waited for it to finish. Each second felt like an eternity, his unease growing with every glitch.
The scan completed with no issues found. He sighed, rubbing his temples, frustration mixing with an inexplicable sense of dread. His screen continued to flicker sporadically, the symbols flashing briefly, mocking him with their cryptic message. Maybe it was a virus, he reasoned. But he knew his way around the internet to avoid most malware; this felt different. He watched as the symbols merged, forming jagged, almost hieroglyphic shapes, and his fingers instinctively tensed, feeling the pulse of something he couldn’t explain.
Shaking his head, he decided to do a complete restart. The screen went dark as he rebooted, and he exhaled, feeling a faint sense of relief. But as he powered the machine back up, his heart sank. The usual boot logo appeared, then vanished, replaced by the same symbols—flickering, erratic, spiraling across the screen.
"UNSTABLE CONNECTION DETECTED," it read.
The words lingered on the screen, mocking him. Colm’s mind raced. That wasn’t a system message he’d ever seen.
A surge of frustration rose within him. He tried to brush it off, reasoning that it was just a weird issue he could solve with enough time. But the flickering grew worse, lines and shapes twisting across the screen in maddening patterns. The symbols seemed sharper, more precise, and almost purposeful in their design. It was as if the computer was trying to communicate something beyond his understanding.
Feeling a mix of frustration and dread, he decided to unplug it. Enough was enough; maybe a hard reset would solve it once and for all. His fingers gripped the power cable firmly, yanking it from the socket with a sharp, satisfying click. The room fell into silence, the hum of the computer gone, leaving only his shallow breaths echoing in the quiet.
He stood there, waiting, the tension in his chest slowly dissipating. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to believe it was over. He reached for his coffee cup, lifting it to his lips, savoring the bitter warmth as he tried to shake off the lingering unease.
And then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw the screen blink back to life.
Colm’s heart froze, his coffee cup slipping from his hand and shattering on the floor. His computer was on. He hadn’t touched or reconnected the power, yet there it was, symbols spiraling across the screen this time sharper, more aggressive, as if enraged by his attempts to silence it. The lights in the room dimmed, the air vibrating with a low, insistent hum that seemed to pulse in time with the flickering on the screen.
His breathing grew shallow as he took a shaky step back, his mind racing through possibilities, each one more implausible than the last. Was it possible he was hallucinating? Had he been sitting at his desk too long?
But then, before he could react further, the screen filled with an intense, blinding white. A piercing hum vibrated through the air, buzzing in his ears, sending electric shocks across his skin. The lights flickered, dimming like something was drawing power from the apartment. The screen erupted with a sharp flash, throwing him back as if hit by a physical force.
An intense wave of energy surged through him, creating a jolt that left him feeling numb and disoriented. He stumbled backward, his vision blurring as his heart raced in his ears. Colors danced before his eyes, their unnatural brilliance overwhelming his senses. The room tilted, with the walls twisting and bending in impossible ways.
Then, with a final blinding flash, darkness claimed him.
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Colm’s consciousness drifted in and out, the taste of blood sharp on his tongue, and his senses dulled as though submerged underwater. He couldn’t tell how long he lay there—seconds, minutes, maybe hours—floating in a strange darkness, his body heavy and unresponsive. Faint sounds echoed around him, indistinct whispers just out of reach. For a moment, he wondered if he’d died, if the strange surge from his computer had somehow been the end.
But then, with a jolt, his senses sharpened, and he noticed a bitter, earthy scent filling his nostrils, an odor that made his stomach turn. Blinking, he tried to focus, his vision swimming as he stared into a canopy of twisted branches that loomed above him, black and skeletal against a dull, gray sky.
He wasn’t in his apartment anymore.
Panic flared, his heart thundering as he forced himself up, every muscle protesting with a dull ache. He was on the ground, lying on damp, decayed leaves, his clothes cold and clinging to his skin from the moisture seeping up from the earth. His hands brushed against something wet and slimy, and he recoiled, staring down at his surroundings.
The surrounding forest was shrouded in a thick, oppressive mist, a grayish fog that clung to the trees and obscured his view beyond a few feet. The trees were twisted, their bark blackened as if burned, branches stretching out like skeletal arms. Shadows seemed to dance at the edge of his vision, faint movements that vanished when he tried to focus on them.
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Colm took a shuddering breath, his mind racing to piece together what had happened. The last thing he remembered was the computer screen—those strange symbols, the blinding light, the electric shock, and nothing. Now Colm was here, in this dark, unnatural forest that felt like something out of a nightmare. He couldn’t feel any immediate injuries, but his head throbbed, and his skin tingled with the lingering sensation of that electric pulse.
The silence around him was oppressive, broken only by the soft rustle of dead leaves and the faint, unsettling creak of trees shifting in the mist. A chill ran down his spine as he struggled to his feet, a feeling of being watched creeping over him. Every instinct screamed that he needed to move, to escape whatever lay hidden in the shadows.
Then he heard a dragging, shuffling sound coming from somewhere deep in the mist. It was faint at first, but the sound grew louder, accompanied by a low, guttural groan that sent a wave of cold dread through him.
Colm’s heart pounded as he strained to see through the fog, his mind racing with panic. The shadows in the mist shifted, coalescing into forms—figures moving slowly, jerking, but he couldn’t make out any details. Were they people? Animals? Some warped figment of his imagination?
A faint chime echoed in his mind, interrupting his racing thoughts.
A translucent window popped up in front of him.
[ Skill Acquired ]
Analyze (Level 1) - Allows the user to identify creatures and objects.
He blinked, barely processing the words before the shadowed figures grew closer, their forms taking shape. Their gait was unnatural, jerky, and uncoordinated, as though each step required effort. They moved without a purpose he could recognize, but something about them was off. His pulse quickened, fear gripping his chest.
Colm focused on the Analyze skill with a strange instinct while watching the creature, hoping it might give him some answers. Another window popped up.
Undead Walker (Level 4)
Colm’s breath caught in his throat as he stared at the report. Undead. It wasn’t just his imagination or some twisted figment of fear. These figures were corpses brought back to life, drawn to him because of the sounds he’d made. His presence, the breaking twigs, and his footsteps had caught their attention like a signal in the darkness.
An icy wave of terror washed over him, and his legs moved before his mind had fully caught up. He bolted, the sounds of his footsteps blending with the low groans and shuffling of the many undead behind him. Images of countless zombie movies flashed through his mind—he’d seen enough to know that sticking around to "test" his luck was the last thing he wanted to do. The thought of being bitten or scratched, and the subsequent infection, or worse, sent a shiver down his spine.
His feet pounded against the damp earth as he sprinted through the forest, weaving between twisted trees, the mist swirling around him. His breath came in ragged gasps, and his heart hammered in his chest, every instinct focused on one thing: escape.
The undead grew louder, their shuffling, dragging steps punctuated by low, inhuman groans that relentlessly followed him. Questions raced through his mind, but he had no time to think or process the impossibility of his situation. He ran, propelled by pure adrenaline, fear pushing him forward with every step.
He stumbled over an exposed root, his foot catching, and he barely regained his balance before crashing into a tree. The bark scraped against his arm, a sharp pain that only reminded him of how real this was. This wasn’t a dream; it wasn’t some video game he could reset. If he stopped, if he made a mistake, he would die here—or worse, maybe even become an undead.
The dragging noises grew closer, and he could feel the weight of their gaze, the unfeeling, hollow eyes tracking his every movement. He forced himself to keep going, his legs burning with effort, his lungs aching with each breath. The forest seemed endless, the trees stretching out in every direction, each identical in its twisted, skeletal form.
A flash of movement caught his eye, and he glanced over, his stomach twisting with horror as he saw one of the undead, its skin pale and rotted, its mouth hanging open in a silent, unending scream. Its eyes were empty, clouded with a lifeless gray, yet it moved with a terrible, unnatural purpose, its bony fingers reaching out toward him.
Colm turned, his pulse spiking as he pushed himself to go faster. His mind raced, trying to think of anything that might help, but he had no weapons, no plan—just a desperate need to survive. He could feel his energy waning, the adrenaline fading, leaving him vulnerable and exhausted.
He stumbled again, his hand reaching out to steady himself against a tree, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps. The footsteps and groans filled his ears, and he knew he couldn’t keep this up. He needed to find a place to hide, catch his breath, and think.
Up ahead, he spotted a dense thicket of trees, their branches twisting together like a natural barrier. It wasn’t much, but it offered a chance to break the line of sight. He crept toward it as quietly as he could, ducking low to avoid brushing against branches. The undergrowth clawed at his face and arms as he pushed through, but he gritted his teeth and kept going, ignoring the discomfort. Once inside, he crouched among the tangled branches, his heart pounding as he held his breath, straining to stay hidden and silent. Every sound felt like a risk, a potential signal to the creatures lurking nearby.
His body pressed against the rough bark of a tree, his heart pounding as he listened to the sounds of the undead moving through the mist. The shuffling grew fainter, their groans fading into the distance, and he allowed himself a moment of relief.
He was safe—at least, for now.
Colm’s hands shook as he tried to steady his breathing, the reality of his situation crashing down on him. He wasn’t just lost; he was somewhere else entirely, a place that defied all logic. The forest was like nothing he’d ever seen, dark and twisted, filled with creatures that shouldn’t exist.
A faint, metallic chime echoed in his mind, pulling him from his thoughts. The sound was soft and persistent.
[ System initialization finished… ]
The words echoed in his mind, and he felt a subtle pressure, like something vast and unseen, measuring him, recording him. He couldn’t quite place why, but the words filled him with a sense of permanence, as though whatever was happening to him now was irreversible.
The words continued, methodical and indifferent.
[ You have been successfully integrated. Parameters have been set. User designation: Colm Arden. ]
He blinked, his mind struggling to process the words. Integrated? Transported? None of it made sense. He was only beginning to grasp the strange reality of his situation, but something deep inside told him he’d better listen carefully. His eyes widened as the system continued.
[ Access to status and system screens granted. Initial attributes set. ]
A translucent screen appeared before him, hovering in the air, displaying his status information. Colm’s breath caught as he saw his name and a set of stats that felt surreal, like something pulled from a game, yet disturbingly accurate.
[ Status ]
Name: Colm Arden
Race: Human
Level: 1
Health: 95 / 100
Mana: 75 / 75
Strength: 10
Dexterity: 12
Intelligence: 15
Constitution:10
Class: None
Active Class Abilities:
- Empty
- Empty
- Empty
- Empty
- Empty
Passive Class Abilities:
- Empty
- Empty
- Empty
- Empty
- Empty
Skills:
- Analyze (Level 1)
Achievements:
- Through the Rift