Forty-nine… fifty."
The young man's palms pressed firmly against the tiled floor as he held the final position for a moment longer, arms trembling slightly before he finally pushed himself back and sat down. Sweat rolled down his temple, tracing a slow path along his jaw before falling onto the floor beneath him.
He exhaled sharply.
It had been three days since the blackout.
Three days since the entire world had lost consciousness at the exact same moment.
Three days since the countdown appeared.
And just yesterday… the weather changed.
He leaned back against the wall of his room, chest rising and falling steadily as he stared at the ceiling fan spinning lazily above him.
Snow.
In Nigeria.
He almost laughed at the absurdity of it, but the sound died before it could form.
Snow didn't just fall in Lagos — it fell everywhere. Abuja. Enugu. Kano. Port Harcourt. Even in the humid coastal regions where heat usually clung like a permanent resident, delicate white flakes drifted from the sky in silent defiance of logic.
And it wasn't only Nigeria.
Every country reported it.
At the same hour.
At the same minute.
A synchronized snowfall across continents that should never share the same climate pattern.
Meteorologists called it "a global atmospheric anomaly."
Scientists called it "unprecedented."
Religious leaders called it "a sign."
The system said nothing.
He raised his wrist slightly, though he didn't need to.
The interface responded to thought alone.
Countdown: 26 Days, 11 Hours Awareness: 0.9
It had risen again during training.
Just like that.
No notification. No explanation.
Just growth.
He clenched his fist slowly.
The air in the room felt heavier than usual, as if something invisible pressed against the walls. Outside his window, flakes of snow drifted down past palm trees that looked deeply offended by the cold.
Children in the compound had screamed in excitement at first. Adults had recorded videos. Social media had exploded with disbelief.
But by nightfall, the excitement turned uneasy.
Because the snow did not melt.
It touched the ground and remained — not thick enough to bury the city, but persistent enough to make a statement.
This is not your world anymore.
He closed his eyes briefly.
The moment the wind stopped two nights ago replayed in his mind — twelve seconds of total atmospheric silence. The pulse that followed. The subtle surge in Awareness.
It felt like calibration.
Like a test run.
He pushed himself back onto his hands and stood slowly.
If the world was changing, then standing still would be suicide.
Across the globe, millions were beginning to think the same way.
Gyms were fuller. Training fields busier. Meditation apps crashing under traffic. Military facilities running quiet drills behind closed gates.
And in rooms just like this one, individuals were counting repetitions.
Forty-nine. Fifty.
Trying to push something invisible forward.
Outside, another snowflake landed on the windowsill.
But this one did something different.
It didn't melt.
It didn't settle.
It hovered.
Just half a centimeter above the surface.
The young man froze.
His breath slowed.
The flake shimmered faintly… then dissolved into a tiny spark of light.
Inside his mind—
A soft chime.
Awareness: 1.0
Everything sharpened.
Sound. Light. Space.
What the hell,ha...ha this might not be a bad thing after all hahahah I need to call him I haven't spoken to since then.