Chapter 015: System war in wonderland- Part one.
"Wake up kid! The fight's about to kick off!"
The thump of feet pounded in my skull, close as could be. A frown dug trenches on my forehead as I cracked open an eye. I steeled myself for the usual ache that followed the jolt back to awareness, memories slotting into place like worn puzzle pieces.
But there was nothing.
My gaze flickered down, taking stock. The blood and claw marks marred my belly, gruesome souvenirs of the fight, yet the expected sting was absent. Even the rip in my training gear remained, a phantom echo of pain.
My head lifted, curiosity warring with confusion. This wasn't the sterile white of the hospital, the bustling grit of the agency, the hushed reverence of the church, or the comforting familiarity of home. No moon or sun painted the sky, yet an otherworldly glow suffused the landscape, bathing everything in soft, silver light. Electricity had nothing on this luminescence.
A young boy skipped past, and the ground tugged beneath me. Dusting sand off my palms, I watched it scatter in the alien light. This place echoed childhood memories, yet a warped, unsettling version. An old man with an open skull strolled by, grinning a toothy grin as he caught my wide-eyed stare at his exposed brain. A legless girl slithered after him, a tapestry of mismatched faces heading towards a beacon of warmth in the distance, the source of the ethereal glow.
"Fucking move it, kid," a voice growled behind me. I spun, my heart jumping into my throat at the sight. A man cradled his own severed head in his palm, his hiss were venomous as he brushed past, sending me staggering back.
What in the blazes was happening?
Drawn by an invisible force, I followed the strange procession. Some faces held flickering embers of hope, others a hollow resignation. A playful voice, no older than six, broke the eerie silence. "Look, Dad! It's starting!"
"Hush, Roman," the old man, presumably Dad, soothed, ruffling the boy's dark hair. "Listen close, son. We can't linger here. We need to find Thomas before he wakes."
Their backs were to me, but the familiar names snagged my attention. Curiosity wrestled with a rising apprehension as I edged closer.
"Why didn't we bring him?" the boy's voice faltered, shadows flitting across his face. But as a shimmering banner unfurled above the light source, his sadness was swallowed by a joyous bubble that burst from his chest, propelling him into a jubilant hop.
My gaze tore away from the old man and his son, drawn instead to the pulsating light source. Words, shimmering like fireflies, danced across its surface, then blinked away, replaced by others. A roar erupted from the crowd, a guttural chant of "System fight! System fight!"
System fight?
A girl, her smile as bright as the unnatural glow, bounced past me, stopping for a better view. She looked almost normal, save for the empty sockets where her eyes should have been. A frown creased my brow, confusion gnawing at the edges of my mind. This place, this bizarre spectacle, remained a mystery locked in a foreign language.
"Hello," the word whispered from my lips, a hesitant offering. She turned, a flicker of surprise crossing her sightless face.
"Hello... too," she stammered, biting her lip to stifle a giggle that seemed to bubble up from nowhere. Her amusement was infectious, a spark of light in the unsettling landscape.
"Hmmm... where is this place?" I stumbled through the question, unsure of how to phrase it in a way that wouldn't sound utterly ridiculous.
A wave of surprise washed over her, followed by a dawning realization. "You're new?"
My stomach lurched, an unpleasant knot tightening in its depths. "Yeah? I think so."
She nodded, her gaze holding a curious mix of emotions. "This place is Wonderland," she explained, "or Dreamland, if that helps you understand." She paused, gauging my reaction. Seeing no flicker of recognition, she continued. "It's like... an echo of your mind after a big trauma. Did something happen to you?" she asked, her voice laced with quiet empathy.
I nodded, a hollow confirmation. Her eyes, those empty sockets, seemed to register the brutal reality etched on my stomach, the raw wounds and the crusted blood.
"This is where infected people like us gather," she said, her voice soft but firm. "A second chance, a chance to keep going even if our bodies lie still on Earth. But you," she pointed at me, her voice gaining urgency, "you're not dead yet."
"How do you know?" I breathed, desperate for answers.
"Your glow," she replied, her words cryptic. "Stay at the front, close to the light. If the winning system chooses you, you might get to leave this place. But the longer you stay, the weaker your body gets, the closer you are to... well, staying here forever." Her voice dropped to a whisper, then turned back to the spectacle unfolding before us, the 'system fight' that held the key to our existence.
Wonderland. The word echoed in my mind, a fantastical label for this macabre reality. The people here, despite their unsettling appearances, seemed oddly content, their laughter a bizarre counterpoint to the horror of their situation.
Damn, it's about to start.
The crowd surged and churned, a sea of desperate faces illuminated by the eerie glow of the systems above. My stomach rumbled with nervous energy as I fought my way through the throng, every push and shove reminding me of the fragile tether between my mortal body and this dreamlike limbo. The girl's words echoed in my ears: "Stay front and centre," she'd urged, "And the winning system might just pull you through the rabbit hole back to reality."
My eyes scanned the shifting mass, searching for the father and son I'd glimpsed earlier. They were gone, swallowed by the tide of humanity struggling towards the beckoning light. A shiver ran down my spine. If this was Wonderland, what horrors did the real world hold when threatened by an invasion of these "infected"?
A surge of dread washed over me, a sudden revelation cutting through the chaos. This system war wasn't the true game. It was merely a grotesque charade, a dance macabre leading to a single, horrific prize: oblivion. The faces around me, etched with desperation and longing, confirmed it. This "second chance" was anything but, a fleeting flicker before the final darkness.
"Get off the way, kid!" A rough voice ripped through my thoughts, a pair of calloused hands shoving me aside. A burly figure, his face a mask of scarred flesh, spat a laugh that was more like a growl. "No way in hell it's picking you. That's the end, see? The big sleep."
I stumbled back, adrenaline coursing through my veins. Panic gnawed at me, but a stubborn defiance flared in its wake. I had to reach the front, to be seen, to be chosen. Maybe, just maybe, there was a way to survive this twisted game.
Taking a deep breath, I plunged back into the fray, weaving through the human tide. The press of bodies squeezed the air from my lungs, but I pushed on, fueled by desperate hope. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, I broke through the final wave of people, emerging into the open space directly beneath the battling systems.
I stared up in awe and terror. The systems weren't words on a screen; they were entities, vast and shimmering, their forms like living stardust coalescing into grotesque shapes. I'd never seen anything like them, their power both alluring and terrifying. Now, they danced across the sky, their clash sending ripples of energy that vibrated through the crowd.
And then, as suddenly as it had begun, the battle halted. A single word materialized above each system, pulsing with an otherworldly light:
READY.
The air crackled with anticipation. This was it. The real game was about to start.