11:43 PM, January 13.
The moon hung high in the sky, the indigo blue coexisting with millions of white speckles surrounding it like military men. Despite the night being relatively young, the day for a few young adults were closing.
Three guys were on the side of the road, looking at another guy not too far away from them. The one further was leaning down, huffing as his face was facing towards the ground.
"Allen! Hurry up, slow poke!" A playful voice rang. Allen looked up, his straight brown hair messily arranged by the sweat that made the strands stick to his peach skin. His dark-brown eyes contorted as he let out a sickly chuckle.
"I'm fucking suffering here."
The three other guys lightly smiled before shaking their heads. They leaned against a tree that was next to the roadside as a few people walked by, eyeing them—although they did not know whether it was for any other reason than to judge.
"Seriously, man. Why did you even eat two full pizzas?"
Allen didn't say anything for a split moment, but after taking in the moment, closing his eyes and feeling everything that was occurring within him, he responded.
"I was... hungry..." His voice trailed off in-between words, as if each word required the utmost effort to expel from his mouth. After awhile, the pain began to slowly subside, eventually allowing for Allen to stand up relatively normal.
"Okay now, birthday boy?" One of his friends asked him. Allen nodded his head with a small chuckle leaving his lips after.
For a little while longer, they merely walked and talked about meaningless things. However, the conversations would slowly dwindle once they had to split ways, going off to their respective routes to reach their homes.
Allen stood alone at a traffic light. The cars and people walked by, their steps shuffling and creating subtle comfort to Allen's ears. Once the light turned green, Allen begun shuffling his own feet.
Allen soon entered a train station, paying for the fare, and arriving on the boardwalk not too long after. Sitting down, Allen allowed for the moment to pass. He shook his head at a sudden thought that crossed his mind.
Wow... I'm really 20 years old.
He hadn't thought about it much during the days that led up to it—even during a majority of today did he not put much thought into it. But now, as the day was reeling towards a close, the realization was clear.
Time flies.
And he was sure this feeling would be something consistent every time his age increased little-by-little.
I swear I was 14 yesterday... Allen complained inwardly. As the train arrived, Allen entered and sat down. The cart was empty much to Allen's liking, though an empty cart will always resound with this empty feeling despite his favor for it.
The train began to move, the sound of the metal clashing with metal. It was rough, yet the sound became rhythmic, like a song.
Allen pulled out his phone.
Shall I read this on the way home? Allen thought inwardly as his eyes glued itself onto the internet tab that had the next web-novel that he was going to read.
[A Commoner's Guide to Divinity]
[A commoner graduate at Ergo's Central Academy, Ivan Sawyer was nothing short of the word "ordinary." However, encountering a transcription that binds him to a God veiled in the shadows, a string of coincidences incur. Or perhaps—it is as fate exacts.]
It was a popular web-novel that Allen had put on the back-burner because he was a slow reader at times. But now that everything was cleared off his schedule, he figured he would fire off at this web-novel.
However, Allen's eyes suddenly became heavy. As if there was a sleep spell that had been exacted on him.
He didn't think much of it. It was calming, soothing.
He didn't fight it.
He allowed it to embrace him.
~~~
When Allen opened his eyes, he was no longer on a train.
Where the fu— His thoughts were immediately erased once intense pain began searing into his body, penetrating deep into his flesh. His eyes — wider than a plate's diameter — frantically darted towards where the pain was occurring—his left oblique.
A middle-aged man wearing dirty rags was scorching his skin with a steel rod that had a flat top that was scaldingly hot; it could be seen from the fact that the flat top was glowing a orange hue.
"Tell us now!" The man yelled, pressing the tip of the steel rod into his body, inciting greater pain. The veins underneath Allen's skin convulsed as his face became red-hot. Unable to bear the pain, his consciousness began to slip.
Splash!
However, the man before him was quick to splash him with a devastatingly cold bucket of water that he had right beside him. This made Allen jolt awake, his eyes becoming just as wide it had been moments ago.
"FUCK!" Allen cursed. He looked at the man, his face fatigued, exasperated.
"I don't... know what you're talking about!" Allen finally responded clearly, but that was not the response the man was looking for. The man's face contorted, frustrating filling his veins.
"No... you do," he said. "You know exactly what we are looking for, Grace Walker!"
A name, one that was directed towards Allen.
A foreign name to his ears, one that he does not own.
"What are—"
Again, his words were cut short. However, instead of the burning sensation permeating on his oblique, it was the a sharp pain that penetrated his brain matter.
It was not done by the man, but something intangible.
Memories.
Memories were flooding into his head, filling every nook and cranny that existed within his head. His mouth hung agape, an infinite number of memories settling.
When the pain settled down, Allen could see that the man had left. Fighting the urge to pass out, Allen looked directly in front of him.
A mirror.
One that was capturing his full figure. Allen looked at figure that was supposedly his own. The man before him was tall, but incredibly slim due to the lackluster macro and micronutrients that swirled in his body.
His face was drained, his cheeks extremely hollow from the depravation. His eyes shone a violet hue, his black hair sticking closely to his face from the abundance of sweat and water that clad his body.
As he looked at himself, something began to surface at the top of his head.
A name.
A name now familiar to him.
"Grace... Walker..."
The name rolled out of the tongue of foreign flesh, as if trying to get familiar with the name. Information regarding Grace began flooding to his brain.
A child born into the Walker Family, one of the Great Families of ancient times that served to build the foundation of the world.
However, due to his reserved personality, he never gathered too much attention. Though it was still more than most due to his family name.
But why am I... seeing this here? Allen thought.
Hanging in front of him was a virtual interface that took form of a ragged black scroll that had been unraveled.
[Name: Grace Walker]
[Age: 18]
[God: The Creator]
[Grade: 1]
[Prayer Characteristic: Creator's Phantasm (Rank 1)]
[Skill(s): None]
The System Interface.
A phenomena that allowed humanity to become more. Its origins remain unknown, but the first instance of human usage occurred five thousand years ago.
But, that was not what surprised Allen. As information shuffled, coming to the front of his noggin, Allen came to learn that this system was only something he could experience if he had prayed to a God.
As his mind, punctured by the searing pain of his flesh, came to ground itself into this world's bearings, he came to realize that there was a sudden gap in memory in Grace Walker's head.
What was he doing before getting tortured here... Allen grimaced as a sharp pain coiled around his left oblique again.
Then another sharp pain coiled in his brain, as if some sort of realization was beginning to manifest within the center of his cortex.
All the right information surged at the top of his head like fate.
Familiar words began to boil at the tip of his tongue.
Ergo... Central Academy... fuck. Fuck.
Allen twisted his neck to his sides and down; his hands and legs were cuffed into a stone wall, the deep edges that made the crevices in the stone barreling deep into his skin.
It was then did Allen's face contort, his teeth flashing, shaking.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He closed his eyes. His heart rattled like beating drums, the corner of his eyes spilling liquid crystals that slithered down his brutalized, bloody cheek.
He was afraid.
So damn afraid.
Everything was hitting him all at once.
He was trapped in a novel.
And worst of all: it was novel he had yet to read.