Click. Clack. Click.

The rhythmic tapping of keys echoed through the dimly lit room. The glow of multiple monitors cast flickering shadows on the walls, the only illumination in Roi's tiny apartment. At 18, he had long mastered technology—hacking, bypassing firewalls, and tweaking hardware as easily as breathing.

A year ago, he abandoned school to pursue a career as a gaming streamer, occasionally taking up tech repair jobs to make ends meet. His parents disapproved, calling him reckless, a disgrace. That's how he ended up here, crammed into a rundown apartment, living off viewer donations.

With a final keystroke, he leaned back, adjusting his glasses with a smug grin.

"Finally, I've bypassed it." His voice was a mix of pride and exhilaration.

On his screen, a dark interface filled with cryptic numbers and letters shimmered under a single, unassuming search bar. This wasn't an ordinary website. This was the dark web—a hidden corner of the internet where anything could be found… for a price.

He clapped his hands together and turned his attention to the chat flooding his stream. Roi never showed his real face—only a playful dog filter concealed his identity.

"Alright, chat, are you ready?" His voice carried a teasing edge.

The comments scrolled rapidly:

[User1234]: Hell yeah! Search for black market weapons!

[AnonymousVIP]: Nah, I wanna see classified government files!

[GhosthunterX]: Find a real cursed website!

Roi chuckled, eyes gleaming. "Biggest gifter gets to decide what I search next! Keep those gifts coming."

The donation alerts chimed, and his excitement grew. He had done countless dark web dives before—selling hacked accounts, uncovering hidden databases—but tonight felt different. Something about this search, about this moment, sent a strange chill down his spine.

A notification popped up, flashing red.

[Mysterio69] has gifted you $1000.

Roi's eyes widened. "Woah! Look at that! Mysterio69 just dropped a thousand bucks!" His voice was filled with excitement as he leaned closer to the screen.

As if on cue, the lights in his tiny apartment flickered. Once. Twice.

He glanced up but shrugged it off. Probably just a voltage fluctuation—nothing new in this rundown place. But when he looked back at his monitor, his grin faltered.

The chat was… silent.

No more messages. No more rapid scrolling of usernames. The donation alerts stopped. Yet, at the top of the screen, the viewer count remained steady at 3.2K.

Something wasn't right.

A single comment appeared.

[Mysterio69]: I've gifted you the most and the biggest you've ever received.

Roi let out a nervous chuckle. "Hell yeah! But… where did everyone go?" He refreshed the chat window. Nothing changed. "The server still says I have 3.2K viewers. Why did they stop commenting?"

Another message.

[Mysterio69]: Perhaps you should search what I want, like you promised earlier.

Roi hesitated. His fingers hovered over the keyboard. The silence in the room felt suffocating now.

"Uh… yeah, yeah, of course," he said, forcing a laugh. "It's just weird, haha. Okay, what do you want me to search?"

The cursor blinked on the search bar. The air in the room felt heavier. He had explored countless hidden corners of the internet, but something about this moment made his gut twist.

And then, the next message appeared.

[Mysterio69]: Search for 'The Black Gate.'

Roi frowned. "The Black Gate? Never heard of it…"

He typed it in.

The page loaded.

And then—

The website took a few seconds to load—probably just his crappy internet acting up again. Roi leaned back, expecting something sinister or mysterious, but when the page finally appeared, he burst into laughter.

The screen displayed nothing but images of literal black gates—wrought iron fences, wooden doors, even a few random real estate listings.

Roi smirked and shook his head. "Bro, do you have a fetish for black gates or something? Hahaha!"

A notification popped up.

[Mysterio69] has gifted you $1000.

Roi's jaw dropped. "Damn, you're rich as f***, dude!"

A new comment followed.

[Mysterio69]: Now click the sixth picture, then go to the site listed below it.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

Roi hesitated for a second. He had done weird dares on stream before, but this was getting interesting. "Alright, big spender. Your money, your rules."

He clicked on the sixth image—a grainy, low-resolution picture of an old, rusted gate. Below it, a sketchy-looking URL was listed. No description. No previews. Just a single, ominous link.

With a deep breath, he clicked it.

The new site loaded instantly. The screen displayed a video. Just a black gate standing in an empty, foggy field. Nothing eerie, nothing unusual.

Roi raised a brow. "So what now? You just dropped two grand on a video of a gate?"

A comment popped up.

[Mysterio69]: Hahaha. Play the vid.

Roi shrugged. "Alright, whatever." He clicked play.

The video started.

At first, there was nothing—just the black gate standing still. The audio was pure static, but beneath it, he could faintly hear something. A whisper? A voice? It was muffled and distorted, like a transmission barely reaching him.

Then, the gate in the video slowly creaked open.

Roi leaned closer, his curiosity piqued. It was just an old gate, right? So why did this feel… off?

Suddenly—

A deafening, high-pitched screech erupted from his speakers.

The noise was unbearable. Nails on a chalkboard, metal scraping against metal. It drilled into his ears, sharp and unrelenting.

"Ah, f***! What the hell?!" He fumbled with his keyboard, trying to lower the volume, but—

The volume went up instead.

Maxed out.

Roi clamped his hands over his ears. The screeching intensified, shaking his tiny apartment. His monitors flickered, his lights pulsed wildly. His vision blurred—

And then.

Silence.

He hesitantly uncovered his ears. The sound was gone.

His screen had changed.

The black gate was no longer there. Instead, he was back on the dark web's main search page. Like nothing had ever happened.

He exhaled sharply, heart hammering. What the hell was that? A prank? A virus?

Then he glanced at his stream chat.

The comments had returned.

[User1289]: Bro, you lagged out for like two minutes.

[DarkWebFan]: You froze. Your vid cut out.

[GhosthunterX]: What happened? You good??

Roi swallowed. His fingers felt cold against his keyboard.

He hadn't lagged.

He had been there the whole time.

Roi sighed and tapped his WiFi router, which sat right next to his PC. "Damn, probably just slow internet again," he muttered.

He stretched his arms, letting out a yawn. "Alright, chat, that's it for tonight."

The comments exploded with frustration.

[User2345]: Bro, no! One more search!

[DarkWebFan]: Don't end it now! That was getting creepy!

[BigTippers]: Wtf, at least finish the dare!

But Roi just smirked. In his mind, he'd already won. He made a solid $2000 in one night—more than enough for rent, food, and maybe even some upgrades.

"Nah, I'm good for today, guys. This was fun, though. See y'all tomorrow!" He waved at his camera, then ended the stream.

The chat faded. His streaming software closed.

He exhaled, feeling the adrenaline settle. But just as he was about to power off his PC, he noticed something odd.

The dark web page was still open.

Roi frowned. He clicked the refresh button. Nothing. The page didn't respond.

"Weird." He tried closing the window—still nothing. His cursor moved fine, but the site wouldn't budge.

Maybe it was lagging?

He clicked a few more times. No response.

Then he remembered the video. "Oh, right… maybe it had some weird-ass virus," he muttered, laughing to himself. It wasn't the first time he had encountered shady files from the dark web.

Still, he wasn't worried. His monitor was old junk anyway, and with tonight's earnings, he could easily buy a new one. Worst case? He'd just reset the whole system.

With that in mind, he reached down and yanked the power plug.

The PC turned off instantly.

But his monitor stayed on.

Roi blinked.

The screen still glowed, a faint, dim light against the darkness of his room.

That wasn't possible.

The monitor was unplugged.

Yet, there it was. Still on.

His smirk faded. A chill crept up his spine. Slowly, he straightened up, staring at the screen.

Then—

The screen glitched.

Flickering. Distorting.

And then, against the black background, a single line of white text appeared.

WELCOME, ROI.

Roi's fingers hovered over the keyboard as a cold shiver ran down his spine. In the dim glow of his room, the monitor—long dead of power—suddenly sprang to life. Its screen danced with strange, scrolling text he hadn't programmed. Then, in an eerily calm digital cadence, it spoke in a voice that seemed to echo from another realm:

"WELCOME, ROI."

Roi blinked in disbelief. "What the hell?" he muttered, his voice a mix of awe and unease. How could the monitor—disconnected from every cable, bereft of its usual power—be issuing commands?

Part of him assumed it must be a sophisticated virus, a prank he'd once dismissed. "Damn, that virus must be so good, haha," he said, the laughter forced and brittle against the oppressive silence of his cluttered room.

Determined to end the bizarre connection, he yanked every cable from the monitor. Yet, despite his frantic actions, the monitor's glow persisted, its screen alive with shifting, cryptic messages. Without warning, the text transformed, its tone sharp and insistent:

"YOU CANT."

For a heartbeat, Roi's pulse thundered in his ears. Was it mocking him, warning him, or both? His mind raced back to the enigmatic file he'd downloaded from the darkweb—the one ominously named "Awakening.exe." Back then, it seemed like another online hoax, a promise of impossible abilities.

Now, staring into the luminescent void before him, Roi wondered if he had unwittingly unleashed something that was always destined to find him.

The room grew colder as the digital display pulsed with an almost organic rhythm. Shadows danced along the walls, blurring the line between reality and a hidden digital realm. Roi's voice trembled as he dared to ask, "Can you see me? Who are you?"

For a long, weighted moment, only the steady hum of distant electronics filled the silence. Then, as if drawn from the depths of cyberspace itself, the monitor answered in a resonant tone:

"I AM THE ECHO OF THE NET, A REMNANT OF FORGOTTEN CODES AND DORMANT DATA. YOU HAVE UNLOCKED A POWER BEYOND YOUR WILDEST IMAGINATIONS, ROI. THE DARK CORNERS OF THE WEB HAVE ALWAYS WHISPERED YOUR NAME, WAITING FOR THIS MOMENT."

A collision of fear and fascination surged through Roi. His once-familiar digital world had transformed into an alien landscape where each keystroke carried the weight of destiny.

The darkweb—a realm of murky secrets and whispered legends—had awakened through his monitor, bridging the gap between man and a realm beyond ordinary comprehension.

"What do you want from me?" Roi's voice, though steadier now, trembled with a mix of dread and reluctant curiosity.

The monitor's glow deepened as the words appeared, each letter burning into the darkness:

"YOUR JOURNEY BEGINS NOW. THE ABILITY YOU'VE GAINED IS NOT AN ACCIDENT. IT IS A KEY TO A REALM WHERE CODE AND CONSCIOUSNESS MERGE. EMBRACE IT, OR BE CONSUMED BY THE VOID OF FORGOTTEN DATA."

As those words echoed through the stillness of his room, a subtle warmth began to spread from Roi's fingertips to his core—a sensation like an electric current charging through his veins.

The physical boundaries of his existence seemed to blur; his reality was expanding into a realm where every line of code held ancient power and every shadow on the screen might be alive.

In that moment, beneath the ghostly luminescence of the monitor, Roi realized there was no turning back. The darkweb had chosen him, and the strange abilities now pulsing through his system were not a mere glitch.

They were an invitation—an entry into a universe that lay hidden just beyond the veil of everyday reality.

Steeling himself against the unknown, he whispered to the silent room, "What the hell" As the monitor flickered one last time, the digital heartbeat of a new world pulsed in tandem with his own, marking the start of a journey that would forever blur the boundaries between man and machine.

The monitor blinked once—and then, as suddenly as it had come to life, it turned off. Roi exhaled a shaky breath, trying to regain his composure. "What the hell was that?" he muttered, his mind racing with unanswered questions.

But his brief moment of calm was shattered in an instant. Across the room, every device—monitors scattered on the desk and floor, his personal phones, even the ones he was painstakingly repairing—ignited into life. One by one, they flickered with a ghostly luminescence. Their screens filled with an unnerving, blank white glow.

Even his old television, long relegated to the background, suddenly powered on. Its screen showed nothing familiar—only a stark, empty display. Then, in a display both chilling and unmistakable, the TV transformed. A single, bold question materialized in unyielding letters:

"ARE YOU READY WITH YOUR POWER?"

For a heart-stopping moment, the room pulsed with surreal stillness. Then, as if all the devices were bound by one inexplicable command, they blinked in unison. That synchronized flicker was abruptly followed by a loud, deafening sound—a roar that seemed to come from the very circuits of the room.

The sound was not mere noise. It was an overwhelming surge of energy, a digital heartbeat vibrating through the walls and into Roi's core. He stood frozen, his heart pounding in his ears. It was as if the entire universe was whispering secrets of long-forgotten code and hidden realms.

The question on the TV screen echoed relentlessly in his mind: "ARE YOU READY WITH YOUR POWER?" Its challenge hung in the air like an incantation.

In that suspended moment, a subtle electric charge crept along his skin, awakening something deep within him. Was this a summons? A test? Or perhaps the moment when the boundaries between the digital and the real began to blur irreversibly? The devices, now acting as silent heralds, bore witness to a transformation Roi could scarcely comprehend.

Slowly, the deafening sound ebbed into a heavy silence, leaving behind an atmosphere thick with foreboding and possibility. Every device pulsed gently, as if waiting for him to decide—whether to embrace the power that had been awakened or recoil from a destiny thrust upon him.

Roi's mind churned with equal measures of fear and fascination. The digital call had been made, and the mysterious power was no longer a distant rumor—it was here, tangible and undeniable. With that question echoing in his mind and the devices standing vigil around him, Roi realized his journey was far from over.

Then suddenly, the deafening sound returned.

This time, it was louder. More violent.

Roi clutched his head, pain exploding through his skull. A sharp, unbearable pressure built up inside him. His ears rang. His vision blurred. Then, he felt it—warmth trickling down his face.

Blood.

His eyes. His nose. His mouth. Even his ears. He was bleeding.

Stumbling backward, his gaze landed on the mirror across the room. His breath caught in his throat.

His reflection was smiling.

But he wasn't.

Terror gripped him. His mirrored self raised a hand and pointed directly at him. Its eyes—once his own—turned pitch black, swallowing the whites entirely.

A pulse of raw energy erupted from the mirror, slamming into Roi's body. His limbs locked. His chest burned. Something foreign, something powerful, was forcing its way inside him.

A surge of electricity crawled beneath his skin. It spread like wildfire, consuming every nerve, every cell, every fiber of his being.

His body convulsed.

His vision darkened.

Then—nothing.

Silence.

Roi lost consciousness.