It did not begin with sound.
It began with absence.
David was mid-breath.
Mmeso had just turned slightly toward him, about to say something he would never hear.
Ada was laughing at something Divine whispered.
The music vibrated through the floor.
And then—
Everything went black.
Not dim.
Not fading.
Black.
Instant.
Absolute.
There was no falling sensation.
No dream.
No transition.
Just complete erasure.
For one second.
Or one hour.
Or something outside time entirely.
There was no way to measure it.
Because David did not exist inside it.
None of them did.
When consciousness returned, it did not return gently.
Sound came first.
A distorted rush of noise, like a speaker reconnecting after losing power.
Then light.
Blinding.
Disorienting.
David's vision snapped back into focus as if someone had switched reality on again.
His knees buckled.
The entire room staggered.
Glasses shattered against marble floors.
Someone screamed.
Music stopped abruptly this time—not frozen, but manually cut.
People grabbed their heads.
Some collapsed.
Others gasped as though they had been underwater too long.
David hit one knee before catching himself with his palm against the floor.
His heartbeat was violent.
His lungs burned as though he had been holding his breath for minutes.
"Ada!"
His voice sounded unfamiliar to his own ears.
She was beside him, crouched, breathing heavily, eyes wide with confusion.
"I—I blacked out," she said.
Around them, chaos unfolded in disbelief.
Skywhite was gripping the railing tightly, staring at his hands like he expected them to disappear.
Gift was crying quietly, not loudly, but in controlled shock.
Mmeso stood still.
Too still.
Her eyes were not scanning the room.
They were focused on something else.
Something only she could see.
David followed her gaze instinctively—
And then he saw it too.
Floating.
Impossible.
Unmistakable.
In the air.
No.
Not in the air.
In his vision.
A faint translucent display.
Clear.
Sharp.
Real.
At first, it showed nothing but a symbol.
A circular sigil rotating slowly, composed of lines that did not resemble any language he knew.
Then—
Text appeared.
Not loud.
Not dramatic.
Simple.
Cold.
GLOBAL NOTICE
SYSTEM INITIALIZATION COMPLETE
PHASE ONE COMMENCES IN:
29 DAYS 23 HOURS 59 MINUTES 42 SECONDS
The numbers began counting down immediately.
Every second precise.
Every movement exact.
29:23:59:41
29:23:59:40
29:23:59:39
David's throat went dry.
He blinked.
The display remained.
He turned his head.
The countdown moved with his vision.
It wasn't in the room.
It was inside him.
"No…" someone whispered behind him.
"I see something…" another voice said.
"Do you see that?!"
"Yes!"
The panic escalated instantly.
People reached into empty air, trying to swipe something invisible.
Others spun in circles, trying to escape what could not be escaped.
The countdown did not react.
It did not flicker.
It did not respond to fear.
It simply continued.
29:23:58:51
29:23:58:50
"What is Phase One?" Skywhite muttered hoarsely.
No one answered.
Because no one knew.
Mmeso finally spoke, her voice steadier than most.
"It says the same thing for you too… right?"
David looked at her.
She nodded slightly.
Her breathing was controlled, but her eyes betrayed the tension beneath it.
"Yes," he said.
Ada tugged at his sleeve.
"David… mine says it too."
His heart tightened.
Even her.
Even children.
This was not selective.
This was not random.
This was global.
Phones began lighting up around the room.
Notifications exploded across screens.
News alerts.
Messages.
Calls.
The entire world had experienced the blackout.
Exactly at the same time.
Exactly the same way.
And now—
Everyone had a countdown.
Outside, car alarms began blaring across Banana Island.
In the distance, someone screamed.
Sirens began wailing faintly from far beyond the estate walls.
David stood slowly.
His legs felt steady.
Too steady.
The countdown hovered in the corner of his vision like a quiet threat.
29:23:57:12
29:23:57:11
"What happens in one month?" Gift whispered.
No one answered.
Because the silence of the system was worse than any explanation.
It had given them a deadline.
But not instructions.
Not rules.
Not mercy.
Just time.
And time, when limited, was more terrifying than death.
David looked down at his wrist.
Ada's bracelet rested there exactly where it had been before the blackout.
Solid.
Real.
The only thing that felt unchanged.
He clenched his fist slowly.
His instincts told him something simple.
Whatever Phase One was—
It would not be small.
And whatever was coming—
Was already certain.
The countdown continued.
Unbothered.
Unstoppable.
29 Days.
The world had just been placed on a clock.