A chorus of horns blanketed the highway. Bringing Giuliano out of his almost-sleep and giving the start of a headache as a welcome gift.

With a groan, Giuliano opened the thin curtains that offered some protection from the burning ball of plasma in the skies. The burgeoning headache bloomed into a throbbing misery behind his eyes. Looking through the window—cars stretched out ahead, a static river of metal, drivers honking futilely as if their impatience could clear the path.

I should've lied to stay home. It's not like I haven’t before. With a deeply held-back groan, he got out of the seat, stepping over a sleeping Roger, feeling the familiar tug of irritation. Every horn blast was a needle to his temple. Phone in hand, he dialed Rossi, each beep a countdown to having to mask his frustration with a veneer of professionalism.

At the driver's seat, Jack's smile was gone, replaced by resignation as he pulled a box of cookies from below his seat. "One?" Jack offered Giuliano one of the chocolate cookies.

"Thanks," Giuliano replied, taking the cookie and biting into it. The chocolate was rich, and the dough perfectly baked—not too soft, not too crunchy. "Did Charlie make these?" he asked, appreciating the distraction from the traffic.

Jack nodded, his spirits and posture lifting slightly at the question. "Yeah, she's really getting the hang of it. She’s even started trying her hand at cakes now. Maybe next time, it'll be cake instead of cookies in the traffic jam survival kit."

Good for her, Giuliano managed a genuine smile while tapping his foot impatiently. "That sounds promising. Tell her she's nailed the cookies. They’re perfect."

As the conversation drifted, Giuliano's phone was in hand, waiting for Rossi to answer the call. The wait stretched, filled with the muffled crunch of cookies and the distant symphony of honks making his head throb. Finally, the line clicked.

"Hi!" Giuliano burst out, creating a wave of pain that forced him to press his temples. The sudden cheer in his voice made Jack raise an eyebrow in amusement.

"Giuliano," Rossi’s voice came through, brisk and slightly impatient. "This isn't a great time. What do you need?"

"Stuck. Seen anything about a rockslide or something similar on the news?" Giuliano kept his tone light, though tension simmered just below the surface.

There was a pause in the conversation, the muted sound of a clicking remote going through the phone, "No rockslides reported. Why aren't you here already?" Rossi's tone was clipped, more accusatory than inquisitive.

"Just the traffic," Giuliano explained, his frustration building as he tried to maintain his composure. "It’s a standstill everywhere."

"We still have deadlines, Giuliano." Rossi’s response was dismissive, her voice sharp.

"Understood," Giuliano gritted his teeth, the phone creaking slightly in his grip.

"Make sure you message me when you get in," Rossi ordered before ending the call abruptly.

You bitch, The phone cracked under the pressure of his grip, a hairline fracture spidering across the screen. The sharp intake of breath from Jack was a splash of cold water.

"Everything alright?" Jack’s concern was genuine, a stark contrast to the heat of Giuliano’s shame. Overshadowing the feeling of nails being driven through his skull.

I shouldn’t have let that slip. Not here. Not with Jack. Giuliano pocketed his phone, forcing a calm he didn’t feel. "Just the usual. Knowing we’ll have to hustle doubles the fun, doesn’t it?" Giuliano’s feet tapped a quick, disjointed rhythm. He was already forming plans to manage the extra workload, his mind racing as fast as his heart.

"Alright," Giuliano mumbled, pushing off the back of the driver's seat with more force than necessary. "I'll be in the back. Wake me if anything strange happens or the world ends—whichever comes first." With a quick shuffle, Giuliano moved back to his seat.

He sank into his seat with a heavy sigh, the worn fabric of the chair offering little comfort. A look of envy was shot at Roger's sleeping form through half-lidded eyes. As he leaned his head back and closed his eyes, the frustration and helplessness of the morning coalesced into a tight knot in his stomach. The bus, as if in sync with his mounting stress, began to crawl forward, the movement jerky and slow. Giuliano’s thoughts churned with the sluggish pace of the traffic. Trapped, going nowhere fast, a perfect metaphor for my life.

No sooner had the headache subsided, the bus lurched violently. A moment of weightlessness stretched into eternity, the line of time stretching close to snapping. It seemed to Giuliano that the time it took for his eyelids to flutter open lasted longer than his entire life. When his vision cleared, all he saw was the faded brown of the seat in front of him, rapidly approaching.

During this suspended moment, Giuliano’s mind raced with a detached, almost clinical curiosity. Will I end up as just another gory thumbnail on LiveLeak? he mused to himself, a grim smirk trying to form on his lips, Or perhaps I’ll be a fleeting viral sensation, discussed morbidly over morning coffee before being briskly deleted from public memory?

His thoughts shifted rapidly, analyzing each possible outcome with the precision of a performer calculating his next move in the grand circus of life. They’ll critique my form, won’t they? he thought, imagining the faceless comments that would appear beneath the footage of his demise. ‘He could’ve tucked and rolled,’ they’ll say, or ‘What a loser, didn’t even try to grab something.’

The cacophony of screeching metal started, followed by screams forming, Giuliano's own mouth open at the start of one. I’ve seen worse on those gore sites. Bodies twisted like balloon animals at a grotesque circus, faces contorted in silent screams... At least I’m still in one piece, for now.

Giuliano felt a strange, sharp pain sear through his neck as reality rushed back. His teeth clenched hard, with enough pressure to chip a tooth—the piece floated in the mix of saliva and blood that now filled his mouth. Guess I’m not getting out of this unscathed.

His analytical mind, however, didn’t cease its macabre musings even as his situation worsened. Bleeding out slowly would be worse, he concluded, the idea oddly comforting compared to the immediate terror of being crushed or maimed in the wreckage. At least it’s quick if the spine snaps first, right? Like a light switch flipping off, He rationalized. A quick death was always ideal.

As the world came to a halt, Giuliano's heart still beat. Black dots swam in the haze of pain and shock while his thoughts were scattered like leaves in a storm.

The familiar sensation of broken glass pressing against his back and arms, embedding tiny shards into his skin as a constant, stinging buzz filled his ears, drowning out the cries and turmoil that surrounded him.

The air was thick with an acrid smell that scorched his nose and throat with each labored breath. "What now?" Giuliano muttered to himself, his voice barely more than a whisper as he realized the bus was on its side, a cold dread settling in his stomach. His attempt to move was met with a horrifying discovery—he couldn't feel his legs. The notion of movement existed in his mind, stark and desperate, but his body lay still.

A violent tremor shook the ground, sending another wave of fear through him as the bus rattled ominously. The subsequent explosion sounded far too close, adding to the cacophony that now defined his world.

"Help! I can't feel my legs!" His voice broke through the smoke that invaded his nostrils, making it difficult to breathe. His plea was lost in the chorus of screams and the sound of thousands of footsteps pounding on concrete, punctuated by the periodic roar of explosions. Even the bright flashes of the fiery spectacle outside seemed to mock his helplessness.

Centering himself amidst the chaos, he tapped into the adrenaline and shock that surged through his veins, his heart pounding with a ferocity that spurred him into action. "I can do this," he coached himself, shoving aside the glass with trembling hands as he dragged his body towards the semblance of an exit, the roof hatch. "You can do this," he repeated, his voice a raspy whisper of determination.

He thought about the worst-case scenarios he had seen online, the comments under gruesome videos dissecting every error the unfortunate souls had made. Will they say I gave up too easily? he wondered, the thought spurring him on despite the pain.

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

As he reached the hatch of the flipped bus, he was met with a sight that defied understanding. The morning sky had vanished, replaced by an inky blackness streaked with vibrant colors that burned across the sky. Below, the world was in chaos, with people scrambling away from a gigantic rock that glowed ominously like molten magma, its heat distorting the air around it.

The earth itself seemed to cry as the ground heaved violently. The air was filled with the screeching symphony of stone grinding against stone. Sounds of metal twisting and tearing as if in agony mingled with sounds of human misery; the sick sound of squishy flesh being crushed, the cries of those trapped, the snapping and crackling of broken electric lines, everything melded into a violent chorus.

Each breath carried with it a different type of agony, the nauseous smell of broken gas lines that besides suffocating, threatened a new wave of disaster as electric fires played dangerously close to them.

It was the scene of the end of times, the apocalypse.

All the muted feelings gained power, crashing over Giuliano like a tsunami, not even allowing him to freeze at the scene.

This can't be... The end of the world. Giuliano's mind was filled with the droning of a thousand thoughts, each one looking for a way to deny what his eyes were witnessing. Even the possibility of being crippled mattered little, for if the world ended, he wouldn't have to worry about it, or anything for that matter.

"The world... Is it truly ending?" The words shakily left Giuliano, quickly devoured by the other sounds.

Tears streamed down his face, carrying with it an indeterminable mix of emotions, fear of his imminent death, grief of being unable to finish so many books and games, and hints of relief. Death, after all, would end all suffering—there would be nothing left to worry about.

"This is it, then? The grand finale?" he whispered to himself, coughing from the smoke and tears. His heart beat at an unstable rhythm. Despite everything, a half-smile formed on his lips as he saw the growing purple trail cut the sky, "It's grander than I thought. World shaking."

His arms trembled from the effort to keep himself up as his eyes followed a violet meteor that shone brighter than the morning sun, cutting through building after building, melting metal and stone before ever touching it. A secondary trail, one of metal, stone, and human agony accompanied its violet flames.

It then met the ground. Creating an empty explosion. The air shimmered and twisted in patterns that whispered unintelligible words before a physical impact was born.

Giuliano had only a few breaths as a wall of debris rose from the impact, and it was quickly approaching. There was nothing he could do but watch, his mind failing to process what was about to happen.

In a single moment, the bus was sent flying like a children's toy, the earth-shattering and ear-piercing cataclysmic howl following soon after.

Like a leaf in the heart of a tornado, Giuliano was thrown mercilessly into the vortex, hitting seat after seat, backpacks, canes, everything was flying. The bus became a blender set on breaking him.

Giuliano's breath was crushed out of his chest when the bus met the ground, sending him bouncing like a defective rubber ball. The sound of bone breaking and shattering glass was just one of many sounds as the bus rolled to a stop, letting his battered form rest against the ground.

Why am I still alive, The thought floated through his mind as a coughing fit overtook him. The blood pooling in his throat flew before landing back on his face.

System Integration…

World Integration…

Congratulations denizen of Earth!

The realm you inhabit is presently experiencing a profound transformation, seamlessly merging with the vast expanse of celestial grandeur. As the cosmos embraces your world, celestial elements and the infinite essence of Ether infuse every corner. It is a turning point of astronomical magnitude, an invitation to immerse in the eternal enigmas of the universe.

Despite the chaos swirling around him and the pain that wracked his body like lightning, the message stood stark and demanding in the haze of his consciousness. It wasn't just a cluster of words; it was an imperative that sliced through the turmoil, insisting on being acknowledged.

Giuliano's lips parted in a silent gasp, not from the searing pain but from the shock of clarity the voice imposed. It was too articulate, too structured to be a figment of his battered mind. Yet here it was, speaking directly to him, pulling his focus from the tangible to the inexplicable.

"This doesn't seem seamless," he muttered, blood leaking from the corners of his mouth as the message receded, leaving him to confront the grim reality again. A grotesque shard of metal, slick with his blood, was impaled in his chest, a macabre skewer that pinned him to the moment.

Each labored breath was a reminder of his precarious grip on life, yet his fingers trembled as they touched the cold, blood-slick metal, confirming reality.

"Help!" The scream tore from his throat more from instinct than hope. His mind, strangely serene amid the storm of his demise, focused not on the explosion but on the slow, insidious creep of death from blood loss.

Not like this, he thought, the indignity of fading out in such an anonymous, mundane way gnawing at him. He'd rather have gone out with a bang, not a whimper—a final act in the grand spectacle of life, not a forgotten footnote.

The cold began to seep deeper, starting from his numb extremities, tightening its icy grip inward. Around him, the bus lay eerily silent, devoid of other survivors. Nearby, the personal effects of his former commuter companions—a red headset, a sketch-filled drawing book, Charlie's ID badge—were scattered like relics of a bygone normalcy.

As the apocalyptic cacophony faded into a distant echo, Giuliano's hands clawed weakly at the ground, dragging his body inch by agonizing inch. "Maybe..." he gasped, his efforts yielding nothing but more pain and the harsh grind of glass under his skin.

Darkness began to close in, the world's noises dulling into eerie silence. He felt eerily detached as if he were floating in an endless void, the relentless pull of gravity abandoning him. As he drifted, the jagged metal in his chest and the pain it caused began to fade, leaving a chilling void in their wake.

Blood continued to pour from him, grotesquely reminiscent of a macabre fountain, his life literally draining away beneath him.

System Alert: Modular System Initiation

Welcome, Cultivator. You are about to embark on a journey toward ascension. The path ahead is laden with trials, each designed to test your resolve and potential. Before proceeding to the communal hubs, you are required to complete an individual challenge. Please select the difficulty level of your challenge.

Beginner

A gentle brush with uncertainty

Intermediate

A waltz through adversity

Advanced

A confrontation with despair

Expert

A dance with destiny

As the cacophony of the crash receded further, replaced by the bizarre calm, Giuliano found himself confronted with the surreal reality. "Of all the possible endings, my mind conjures a game?" he marveled, his voice a hoarse whisper. The absurdity of it clashed with the brutal physical trauma he had just endured. His body felt distant as if he were no longer fully tethered to the physical world.

Giuliano struggled to speak, his mouth moving futilely as if he were a fish drowning in air, each attempt to form words stifled by the blood pooling in his throat and the encroaching darkness.

Why don't you just give in already? The thought echoed in his mind, a dark whisper tempting him to let go. Yet, the hallucination unfolding seemed far too structured, challenging his acceptance of his fate. You could be seeing Her, he thought, the idea sparking a flicker of fear, stirring him to resist the darkness.

System Alert

Cultivator at risk of $@#@$!@(#@!@#@$@#@#!#@#@$

A head-splitting, unnatural pain jolted through him as if his very soul were being torn apart. He gasped as a dark shadow, thick as tar from the deepest recesses of the underworld, surged from his throat, its presence violating and alien. The sensation was horrifying yet oddly purifying, leaving a profound emptiness where once the icy grip of impending death had been.

"Sorry..." The small, meek voice that followed, tinged with regret, seemed to float from the dissipating shadow.

Despite the cessation of physical pain, the awareness of his body’s critical state lingered in his consciousness, distant yet undeniable. What the hell was that? Our sins leaving the body? he mused, the thought absurd yet oddly fitting given the surreal nature of his hallucination.

System Alert

Integration required. Awaiting cultivator choice.

With his mouth still agape and his mind distracted by the baffling scene, his body summoned the last vestiges of his strength. His body felt colder than the depths of the Antarctic, utterly defenseless in the face of encroaching oblivion.

His lips parted, and with a tremendous effort, he whispered, "Beginner." The choice felt pathetic, yet it was all he could muster. The system's response was immediate, its tone almost mocking in its formality.

Challenge Level - Beginner selected

Opting for a mere stroll on the precipice of destiny. Such a timid step speaks volumes, yet perhaps it's the most your current resolve can muster. Tread lightly, Cultivator, for even stagnant waters can reflect the glaring lack of ambition. Prepare for your challenge.

As the final words of the system echoed in his fading consciousness, Giuliano felt his heart stutter, the rhythm faltering like a dying flame. His world dimmed, the boundary between life and whatever lay beyond blurring into obscurity. Yet, amidst the encroaching darkness, he felt an overwhelming sense of being utterly alone, and profoundly wrong.