Drip…Drip…Drip…

“How long do you plan on sleeping?” A soft, angelic voice hovers above your head, swaying left and right in the stillness.

“Wake up,” the voice continues, gentle at first.

“Wake UP,” the voice deepens, a sudden distortion creeping in.

“I said WAKE UP!”

Harry jolts awake, his eyes snapping open. He is surrounded by an inky blackness, his vision swallowed by the void. He can’t see anything—no left, no right, no up, no down. The sensation is disorienting, as if he is floating in deep waters. His body feels light, and weightless, as if gravity no longer applies.

Drip…Drip…Drip The noise of water droplets echoes around him.

A faint light glimmers in the distance, beckoning. Instinctively, he tries to swim toward it. His limbs feel heavy, as though they’re fighting against him. His breath comes in short, desperate bursts, but the light seems like his only escape.

With every stroke, the light grows brighter, blinding. He shields his eyes with his hands, the glow too intense.

“Am I that ugly that you had to cover your eyes?” a voice echoes, teasing.

Harry’s hands drop slowly, and he squints against the brilliance. The light begins to fade just enough for his eyes to adjust. The blurriness lifts, and before him stands a girl—radiant and almost ethereal. Her features are delicate, glowing with an otherworldly aura. For a moment, Harry wonders if he has been pulled into some divine realm. She looks like an angel, but there’s something strange about her. Her smile is almost too perfect, and her eyes, while kind, hold a mysterious glint.

“Who… Who are you? Where am I? What am I doing here?” The questions tumble out before Harry can stop them. His mind is spinning, desperate for answers.

The girl tilts her head, eyes glimmering with amusement. “You ask a lot of questions.” Her voice has a soft, melodic quality, but the words are laced with something unreadable.

“My name is Arya," she adds, her smile fading just slightly. "And that’s all you need to know.”

A strange tension lingers in the air as she watches him. It’s as if she knows more than she’s letting on—like this place, this moment, was meant for him.

"You're not going to answer any of my questions, are you?" Harry can hear the frustration creeping into his voice, the weight of the uncertainty almost unbearable.

A faint, amused smile flickers across Arya’s face, but it disappears as quickly as it came. "No. I’m not." She says it plainly, without hesitation.

Harry opens your mouth to protest, to demand some sort of explanation, but she raises a hand to silence him. Her presence feels commanding as if the mere act of her holding up a finger could still the very air around him.

"Let me tell you this," Arya continues, her voice carrying a strange finality to it. " You’re not dreaming. You’re not dead either, at least, not in the way you think. And no, you didn’t just ‘wake up’ here."

She lets the words sink in, watching Harry’s reaction closely.

“The place you're in is called the Void. It’s not a world, but a space—a dimension that connects other worlds together. It's... in between everything, and yet part of everything. A place that doesn’t belong to any one reality but links them all. A bridge, a tether. Think of it as the thread that holds the fabric of existence together."

Her words swirl around Harry, but they make little sense. The Void. A place that connects worlds.

“The Void!” The name echoes in Harry’s mind, and a chill runs down his spine. It feels as though the very air around him has thickened, pressing in with an oppressive weight. A sudden wave of fragmented memories crashes over him, sharp and disorienting.

Five years ago, Earth was invaded by monsters. Harry remembers it vividly, even though it feels like a dream—a nightmare. The sky tore open like a giant wound, and from the rift, came creatures unlike anything humanity had ever seen. Twisted, grotesque forms, the kind of nightmares that no one could have imagined, let alone survived.

The world fell into chaos. Cities burned, people screamed, and humanity was left scrambling for any means of defense. But amidst the horror, something strange happened. Those who were near the rift, those who had the misfortune—or perhaps the fortune—to witness the tear in the sky, were asked a question.

"Do you have what it takes to survive in this world?"

It was a simple question, but the consequences were profound. Those who answered “Yes” were imbued with unimaginable powers, the likes of which the world had never seen before. The ones who survived the ordeal gained what they now called ‘classes’— magical abilities tied to the elements, to nature, to the very fabric of reality. Some were granted the power of fire, others the ability to control the winds, to heal or manipulate the earth itself. Knights, swordsmen, healers, priests, and many more classes came into existence. In a world that had been torn apart, these powers gave them a fighting chance.

But there was more. One brave soul emerged from the devastation—a hero who defied the odds. He was just one man, but his strength was unlike anything the world had ever seen. He fought valiantly against the monsters, leading others in the final battle, until the day came when he made the ultimate sacrifice.

With his final breath, he closed the rift—a portal that had been the bridge between Earth and the dark world beyond. The monsters retreated, the skies healed, and the world seemed to regain some semblance of normalcy. But the scars remained.

Since then, life on Earth has never been the same. More and more people started to awaken their powers each year. It wasn’t just a shift in the physical world. Something about the very fabric of reality had been altered. Harry had heard the stories, whispered in the dark, of people experiencing strange dreams, of visions, of strange pulls—tugs to places beyond the ordinary, beyond comprehension. It was as if the lines between worlds had blurred, and no one knew what would happen if the connection between them was ever re-established. Small rifts were constantly opening up all around the world and monsters kept trying to invade the Earth. This led to new reforms in how everything is handled. The government no longer was able to handle these threats, rules, and regulations changed, new reforms were made, and power slowly started shifting towards strong players and their guilds. Everything was getting out of hand and to control all these issues, the birth of the Players Association took place. Slowly, the world was changing, and no one could predict what would come next.

And now… now Harry was here. In the Void.

Harry blinks, the weight of it all crashing down on him. The memories feel too distant, too broken, and yet they somehow hold the key to everything.

Arya watches him closely, her eyes gleaming with emotion he can’t quite place. "You remember, don't you?" she asks softly as if testing the depths of his mind. "The rift. The monsters. The hero who saved your world."

Harry nods slowly, trying to process the memories flooding his mind.

"Then you know that the Void is not just a place of nothingness. It’s a place between. Between your world and others. And it has a part to play in this story. But... not everyone understands its true nature."

She pauses, her gaze lingering on him like she’s weighing your every thought.

"The powers people gained five years ago were not just a gift. They were a consequence. The rift didn’t just open a doorway—it also awakened something in your world. A new force, one that has been quietly growing."

Harry shivers, a sense of dread creeping up your spine. "What do you mean?" he asks, his voice barely a whisper.

Arya’s smile remains enigmatic, but there’s something unsettling in the way she regards him. "You’ll understand soon enough. But first... you have a decision to make. So, tell me, Sam…"

“Do you have what it takes to save this world?”

“Wait a minute, Sam? My name is Harry.” As confused as he was, Harry tried to make sense of it.

“You are not Sam? Then why are you here” Arya asks him in disbelief going to the papers she summons out of thin air.

“Exactly my question but you refused to answer me in the beginning itself. You were all like ‘Ohhh…my name is Arya and that is all you need to know’ and blah blah blah” Harry says mockingly.

Arya flips through the glowing, ethereal pages of her summoned documents, her disbelief growing with every passing second. "This can't be right," she mutters to herself, her radiant aura dimming slightly. "It was supposed to be Sam. The calculations were precise, and the alignment was perfect. You—" she points an accusatory finger at Harry, her frustration bubbling to the surface—"you shouldn't even be here!"

Harry, still disoriented but catching onto Arya's mounting frustration crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow. "Yeah, well, if it makes you feel any better, I definitely don't want to be here either. So, if you've got a way to send me back, let’s stop wasting time and do it."

Arya stares at him, her expression caught between shock and exasperation. "You don't understand the gravity of this situation! The Void isn't some tourist destination you can just pop into and out of. This is bigger than you, bigger than me. There are worlds at stake!"

"Great," Harry interjects, throwing his hands up. "Save the worlds. Be the hero. Just leave me out of it."

"But I need you!" Arya's voice takes on a desperate edge. "Sam—or you—were meant to be the one. The Chosen. Without you, this entire plan falls apart. Do you even realize what that means?"

"Not my problem," Harry shoots back. "I’ve got enough on my plate back home without adding ‘save the multiverse’ to the list. So, thanks but no thanks. Now, how do I get out of this... Void... thing?"

Arya looks at him, her jaw tightening. For a moment, it seems like she might argue, but then she exhales sharply, her shoulders slumping. "Fine," she says, her voice losing its earlier urgency. "If you're so determined to go back, I'll let you go. But mark my words, Harry—this isn't over. You may not want to be a part of this, but fate has a funny way of dragging people back into the fray."

Harry scoffs. "Fate? Really? Sounds more like you're just bad at planning."

Arya ignores the jab, waving her hand in a graceful arc. A soft light begins to envelop Harry, its glow growing brighter by the second. "You want to go back to your mundane life? Fine. But don't be surprised when the Void comes calling again."

As the light consumes him, Harry hears Arya's voice one last time, tinged with both determination and something that sounds almost like regret. "I'll make this work. Somehow."

Drip… Drip… Drip...

“How long do you plan on sleeping?” A soft, angelic voice hovers above Harry’s head, swaying left and right in the stillness.

“Wake up,” the voice continues, gentle at first.

“Wake UP,” the voice deepens, a sudden distortion creeping in.

“I said WAKE UP!”

Harry jolts awake, gasping for air. For a brief, disorienting moment, he’s back in the Void—the inky blackness, the oppressive silence, and Arya’s cryptic words echoing in his mind.

But then...

“WAKE UP, YOU IDIOT!”

Harry’s head snaps to the side as a pillow smacks him square in the face. He groans and pushes it away, blinking rapidly to find the source of the assault. Standing at the edge of his bed, arms crossed and glaring daggers, is his younger sister, Aditi.

Aditi isn’t what you’d call “intimidating.” She’s small for her age, with a round face that makes her look perpetually twelve, even though she’s seventeen. But right now, her scowl could give Arya a run for her money.

“You’re going to be late for work! AGAIN!” she snaps, emphasizing the last word with another swing of the pillow.

Harry groans, flopping back onto his mattress. “Why do you even care? It’s not like they’ll fire me. I’m practically a legend in that Hotel.”

Aditi rolls her eyes so hard it’s a wonder they don’t get stuck. “Yeah, a legend for being the guy who’s always late.”

Harry rubs his temples, still reeling from the vividness of the dream—or was it a nightmare? The memory of the Void, Arya, and the strange, weightless blackness lingers, haunting him.

“I didn’t hear the alarm,” Harry mutters, his voice groggy.

“That’s because you never set one,” Aditi snaps. “You’ve been like this for years, Harry. Running yourself to the ground. You’re not just responsible for yourself, you know.” Her voice softens slightly. “You’ve got me too, remember?”

Harry exhales, guilt flickering across his face. Since their parents' death in the rift-related chaos five years ago, he had taken on the role of both parent and provider for Aditi. Balancing work at the hotel, managing their lives, and now… whatever this dream had been—it was a lot.

“I’m fine, Aditi,” Harry lies, forcing a smile. “Just… had a weird dream, that’s all.”

“Yeah? Well, dream time’s over.” She tosses a shirt at him. “You’ve got fifteen minutes before your boss starts breathing fire. Move it!”

Harry watches as Aditi walks out of the room, muttering something about having to make breakfast because “you’ll probably burn the eggs again.”

Left alone, he stares at the sunlight on his desk and the faint reflection of his own tired eyes in the window. For a moment, he wonders if the dream was something more.

But there’s no time to dwell. Reality waits—chaotic, relentless, and very real.