Ethan woke to the sound of his phone going off.

  He reached across the bed toward the nightstand, his hand fumbling blindly until his fingers brushed against it. He silenced the alarm with a practiced motion.

  Then his eyes snapped open. He sat up so fast the world spun.

  Clothes littered the floor in lazy piles. Old takeout containers sat abandoned on the bedside table, the faint smell of grease lingering in the air. Posters of his favourite football team hung crooked on the walls, corners peeling. His chest tightened as his gaze swept the space.

  His old room.

  His mind lurched, thoughts colliding as memory rushed back. The battlefield. The Demon King. The final notification.

  Restart available.

  It had to be that.

  He swung his legs out of bed and stood, moving on instinct. His steps carried him down the short hallway toward the bathroom, his pulse pounding in his ears. Hope and fear twisted together in his chest, tight enough to hurt.

  He pushed the door open and stopped in front of the mirror.

  For a long moment, he just stared.

  A younger face looked back at him.

  Much younger.

  His hair was dark and thick, curling down to his ears. His eyes were clear, bright with youth instead of exhaustion. His skin was smooth—unbroken. The scars that had once mapped his face were gone. The long, jagged one that had run from brow to chin was nowhere to be seen.

  Only patchy stubble remained. The kind only a teenager could pull off.

  His breath hitched.

  “I’m… back,” he whispered.

  “Ethan! Are you up?”

  The voice came from downstairs. Feminine. Familiar. His heart skipped.

  Before he could think, his body was already moving.

  He burst from the bathroom and took the stairs two at a time, before deciding to forgo them altogether. His knees buckled as he hit the bottom hard, pain shooting up his legs. They barely held him.

  Weak.

  The thought barely registered. And he couldn’t bring himself to care.

  He pushed himself up and rounded the corner into the kitchen. His sister stood by the counter.

  “What was—”

  She didn’t finish.

  Ethan crossed the distance in a heartbeat and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into him with a force he didn’t bother to restrain. The breath left her in a startled gasp, but he didn’t let go.

  He couldn’t.

  “Ethan—what’s gotten into you?” she asked, laughing nervously as she tried to pull back.

  She did, just enough to look up at him.

  Her expression shifted.

  Concern crept in. Her eyes softened, worry filling them as she took in his face.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked gently. “Why are you crying?”

  Her hand came up, brushing tears from his cheeks. Ethan hadn’t even realized they were there. He smiled, shaky and wide all at once.

  “I’ve just… missed you.”

  She blinked, clearly unconvinced.

  “You saw me last night,” she said slowly. “Did you hit your head or something?”

  Ethan let out a short, breathless laugh. “No. No, it’s not that.”

  “Then what is it?” she pressed.

  He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and stepped back, finally letting himself really look at her.

  She was younger than he remembered. Far younger. Her dark hair was pulled back loosely, strands escaping around her face. She shared his eyes, the same dark brown. She barely reached his shoulders.

  The realization hit him all at once.

  He’d been older than her when he died. Far older. He used to think she was so grown up. The responsible one. The one who always knew what to do. The one who made sure bills were paid and food was on the table.

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  But looking at her now, he saw it clearly.

  She’d only been a kid herself.

  Burdened with the responsibility of raising him. Of holding things together when there was no one else to do it.

  His throat tightened. He stepped forward and hugged her again, more gently this time.

  “Okay,” she said, her voice careful now. “You’re officially scaring me.”

  Ethan laughed, the sound breaking through the knot in his chest.

  “I’ve got a story for you,” he said. “A long one.”

  —~~—

  Leah sat across from him at the kitchen table.

  A plate of toast rested untouched in front of each of them, butter slowly melting into the bread. She stared at him like she was trying to find the seam in a story that didn’t quite fit reality.

  Eventually, she sighed.

  “And you’re really not joking?” she asked again. “This isn’t some… vivid dream?”

  Ethan let out a quiet huff and looked up from the notebook in front of him.

  “No,” he said patiently. “I’m being serious. I know how crazy it sounds.”

  He dropped his gaze back to the page and continued writing.

  He’d realized it quickly once he started talking—his memory wasn’t what it had been. Not perfect. Not anymore. The big moments were still there, burned in deep: the levels, the trials, the failures. But the smaller things were already slipping away. Where rare items had been found. Which skills others had unlocked first. Opportunities he’d missed the last time around. They were fading.

  So he wrote everything down. Every detail he could remember. Because if he was right—and he was certain he was—then tonight was the night everything would begin again.

  Leah shook her head slowly, pressing her lips together.

  “So,” she said carefully, “you’re telling me you know where everyone has been disappearing to… and you believe you’ll be taken there tonight. On top of that, you’re saying you were given a second chance to complete these… trials?”

  Ethan nodded without looking up.

  She hummed, low and thoughtful. “And you really haven’t hit your head? I don’t need to book a doctor?”

  “You have to believe me,” Ethan said, squinting slightly as he wrote. “Because whether you do or not… it’s going to happen. And I really need you prepared.”

  He stood and crossed the room, flicking the television on. He didn’t bother searching long before switching to the news channel.

  The anchor’s voice filled the room.

  “—this just in. Another batch of people have been taken, bringing the global missing persons toll to over four billion. That’s right—more than half the world’s population has now disappeared in the last five years. What does this mean? We’ll be discussing what limited information we have with Dr. James Mickelson after the break—”

  Ethan turned the television off.

  He faced her.

  She stared at the blank screen for a long moment before exhaling.

  “…Okay,” she said quietly. “I get it.”

  Ethan blinked. “Really?”

  “No,” she admitted. “But I trust you. And if this is true, Ethan, then you need to survive. You need to warn people.”

  Something in her voice—firm, protective—hit harder than anything else she’d said.

  “I will,” he said quietly.

  She reached across the table and squeezed his hand. “You’ve grown into a good man, Ethan. I don’t know how this happened… but you’re still my little brother. That won’t change.”

  Ethan looked down at his notebook, at the pages already filling with warnings and second chances. His emotions bubbled again, but he forced them down. He couldn’t afford to break now.

  “I’ll find you,” he said. “No matter what.”

  She nodded, eyes shining. “I know you will.”

  Ethan excused himself from the table and headed upstairs.

  He rummaged through his wardrobe, pushing aside clothes that meant nothing now. Things that belonged to a world that wouldn’t matter in a few hours. After a moment, he found what he was looking for—his old camping pack, shoved into the back corner and forgotten.

  He pulled it free and checked it quickly. Worn, but intact. Good enough.

  He grabbed a solid pair of sneakers and slung the bag over his shoulder. That was it. He had nothing else of value. And despite how much he missed modern comforts, he wasn’t about to waste space on clothes that would tear, burn, or be discarded the moment the trials began.

  Instead, he left the house and went straight to the store. By the time he was done, his bank account was nearly empty.

  He bought another tramping pack—this one for his sister—and filled both bags with dry rations, water containers, rope, and a collection of small but critical items. He double-checked hers twice, adjusting straps, redistributing weight, making sure it would sit right on her shoulders.

  He made one final stop before heading home.

  The weapons store.

  He didn’t bother with guns or blades. They wouldn’t matter. From everything he remembered, weapons never seemed to enter the trials with them. The system—whatever it truly was—didn’t allow them. If you knew how, you could make them inside. Ethan didn’t know where the line was drawn, but guns weren’t important to him anyway.

  Instead, he bought two bulletproof vests.

  They were heavy, uncomfortable, and ugly—but they would keep her alive in the early stages. That was all that mattered.

  When he finally returned home, the bags were packed and waiting by the door.

  Ethan went upstairs one last time and looked around his room. Then, quietly, he began to clean. He folded his clothes and removed the rubbish from his bedside table, lining things up the way they used to be when their parents were still around.

  When he was done, he headed downstairs.

  He and Leah sat together on the couch, close enough that their shoulders touched. He handed her the diary. It was thick, its pages filled edge to edge with writing.

  “Remember,” he said gently, “the first level is a desert. I’ve packed your bag, but make sure you keep water on you at all times. Save your points for the skills. Don’t waste them on food or water unless you absolutely have to.”

  She nodded, gripping the book tightly, knuckles pale.

  “When you find a settlement, stay there,” he continued. “Don’t play hero. Don’t take risks you don’t have to. I’ll find you. But make sure you leave the level before the timer runs out.”

  She swallowed. “You’re really coming for me?”

  He looked at her, offended. “Of course I am.”

  He stood and pulled her into a hug, holding on longer than he meant to.

  “I love you,” he said.

  “I love you too,” she replied, her voice unsteady. “Don’t be stupid in there, okay? I don’t get a replacement brother.”

  He huffed a quiet laugh against her hair. “No promises. But I’ll try.”

  They didn’t talk about the trials after that. Instead, he told her stories—small ones. Embarrassing ones. Dumb memories from school. Things that made her laugh despite everything. Things that reminded her of normal.

  Eventually, she fell asleep with her head against his shoulder.

  Ethan didn’t move.

  His chest ached the entire time.

  He stayed where he was, his pack settled on his back. He closed his eyes and meditated, slowing his breathing, grounding himself in the moment. He no longer gained any form of power from the practice, but it was still mind-clearing. He let everything slip through his thoughts without clinging to any of it.

  Then he felt it.

  A strange pull—gentle, but impossible to resist.

  He opened his eyes.

  The living room was gone.

  It had only taken a split second.

  He now sat in an all-white space, smooth and endless, with no walls or corners. Nothing to orient himself by.

  In front of him, familiar text hovered in the air.

  Welcome participant, you are the #4539182229 player to be selected for the Trials.