“You cannot possess something without paying its price.”

  — Epictetus

  As the anomaly vanished, it spat Sloane out from its edge.The woman slammed into concrete littered with shards of glass, bounced, and slid several meters in a half-conscious state. The fresh wound on her abdomen tore open again; warm blood seeped through the loosened bandages. Sloane opened her eyes to this new shitty world once more.

  The methane-heavy air filling her lungs was the finest reward she could have received.

  She tried to sit up slowly. Inside her head, the screams and laughter of dozens of minds trapped within the anomaly echoed. The voices overlapped, lost their meaning, yet refused to fade. Compared to the pain in her mind, the pain in her body felt like a mosquito bite.

  Pressed her hands to her ears, but the sounds were coming from inside. As if rising from her bones… a hum that left no place to escape. Whispers… one voice piled onto another, then a third joined in, and then all of them spoke at once. Words were impossible to distinguish, but emotions were not. They blended into a single, muddy mass.

  For a moment, she couldn’t tell which thought belonged to her. Who am I? The question echoed in her mind, but the echo returned empty. Her breathing became erratic. The world tilted for a few seconds; the station walls warped, the floor rose, then snapped back into place. Reality could not hold steady.

  She tried to stand, but when her head spun, she collapsed again. Her knees trembled. When she placed her hands on the ground, she wasn’t sure she could feel the cold of the concrete.

  Was it cold? Or could she no longer feel anything correctly? The last consciousness inside the anomaly came to her mind. That feeling of belonging. A hollow opened in her chest.

  “It’s over…” she murmured. Even her own ears found her voice unfamiliar. But it wasn’t over. The anomaly was gone—leaving its mark behind.

  Her mind was no longer whole. Some thoughts felt heavy. Somewhere, someone was laughing. Somewhere else, someone wanted to die. And between them, there was still something trying to remain Sloane. She clenched her teeth and stood up. Her legs refused to obey. She took a step, staggered, grabbed the wall. She was struggling not to fall apart.

  Don’t fall apart.

  That thought was clear. And for the first time, it was entirely hers. The voices in her head had lessened, but they were not gone. Just then, a familiar tremor appeared. Sloane couldn’t remember seeing this many windows at once.

  [System Analysis]

  [Consciousness: Critical level exceeded]

  [Permanent mental traces detected]

  [Debuff: Fragmented Self]

  [Fragmented Self: Your thoughts are occasionally invaded by non-native sources. Reduced perception of reality.]

  [Debuff: Afterecho]

  [Afterecho: Personality shift and identity crisis.]

  Another window appeared.

  [Warning]

  [Consciousness: Unstable]

  [Searching for stabilization…]

  This time, the window was a quest.

  [Stabilization found]

  [Quest: Find Yourself]

  [Description: Be yourself… or be someone else!]

  [Reward: ?] [Penalty: ?]

  “Great fucking explanation,” Sloane muttered. She questioned whether her frayed nerves even belonged to her anymore.

  [System Notification]

  [Anomaly: Collective Reality Distortion neutralized]

  [Anomaly Rank: High Risk]

  [You are the 4th person to defeat this anomaly]

  Sloane blinked. The text didn’t vanish. A new window layered over the others.

  [Calculating rewards…]

  [Evaluating rank factor…]

  [1st place → Legendary Skill]

  [2nd place → Epic Skill]

  [3rd place → Rare Skill]

  [Others → Uncommon Skill]

  [Reward granted]

  [Class-specific reward → Uncommon Skill, Equipment, and Title]

  Three more windows appeared before her eyes. The first was the skill. She didn’t know if she had truly defeated the anomaly—she had only done what was necessary to survive. And the system punished her first, then rewarded her. With human instinctive greed, she wondered what rare skill she would have gained if she had ranked third.

  [New Active Skill: Reality Check]

  [Reality Check: Reality is revised along the path you walk. Any living being with lower Charisma than yours rolls 1d6 Intimidation against Constitution.]

  [Trigger: Automatic upon interaction, no cooldown]

  [Target: Any Living Creature]

  [Effects]

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  Roll < 3 → Failed

  Roll = 3 → Hesitation

  Roll > 3 → Successful

  Sloane’s eyes widened. This was clearly her strongest ability so far. Being Uncommon, it carried a gamble, but since all her stats focused on Charisma, at least she was sure it would activate. She just needed the roll to be good.

  [Equipment Acquired: Black Narrative Coat]

  [Type: Armor – Bound to Character]

  [Rarity: Uncommon]

  [Effects]

  Mental Damage Taken: -15%

  Disorientation Duration: -10%

  +1 Charisma vs Living Entities

  She put on the long black coat that reached her knees. It fit her body perfectly. She liked that. Next came the title reward. She wasn’t sure what it meant. In this new world, titles couldn’t function the same way they had in the old one.

  [First Title Obtained: The One Who Heard Them → You defeated an anomaly]

  [Second Title Obtained: Mom! Get the Camera! → You obtained your first title]

  [Total Titles: 2]

  [Condition not met: Requires 3 Titles]

  [Reward: ?]

  [Title Tutorial Displayed]

  [Tutorial: Titles do not grant power. They prove you survived. And survival, when accumulated, becomes influence.]

  The texts vanished one by one. The world fell silent again. Sloane blinked. The station was still there. The rails were rusty. The walls smelled of dampness. And her head… was crowded.

  When the windows faded, the station grew quiet once more. A heavy metallic scent rose from between the rails. Sloane stood still for a few seconds. The noise in her head hadn’t completely stopped, but it had become like background static—irritating, yet manageable.

  She thought of Evan.Was he alive? Had he escaped? If he was alive, maybe she could find him… but she had no ability to guide her path like he did. If he hadn’t left the station, there was a chance they might meet again. I hope he escaped, she silently wished. He was someone who killed only as a last resort. She didn’t want him dead.

  Her first goal was still the buffet on this side of the station. Evan wasn’t with her, but her objective hadn’t changed. When she reached it, she remembered the vendor who had greeted her when she first entered the anomaly. Just recalling his smile made her skin crawl.

  Her luck held while searching the kiosk. She found a few pieces of food and water. The anomaly had kept people away from this area. There was nothing like sealing a small victory with a full stomach.

  She still wasn’t used to the voices in her head. While searching through the shelves, sudden thoughts startled her. She sat down and ate before anyone else could arrive. She stuffed the extra supplies and bottles into the wide pockets of her new coat.

  Food tasted different after cheating death. It wasn’t even good food—just one of the cheap sandwiches sold at kiosks—but she devoured it as if she hadn’t eaten in days. Not much time had passed since the first hours of the apocalypse, yet it felt as though she had lived here for months. The terror she had felt while hiding in the restroom was still fresh in her heart, but it was now overshadowed by worse memories.

  Leaning against the counter, taking the last bite of her sandwich, she realized that the dark corners of the station no longer felt so frightening. Humans adapt so quickly, she thought. She hadn’t expected to grow attached to this place while trying to escape it.

  I have to leave. I have to go home. I have to find my family.

  A second thought smothered the first. It wasn't hers.

  They’re probably already dead. Forget them.

  Another thought laughed.

  “Be quiet… I’m not listening to you,” Sloane said, closing her eyes. “I’m getting out of this shithole,” she said with determination, and headed for the stairs.

  The reason she hadn’t tried to leave from the beginning was the constant presence of people at the exits. It had taken everything just to find Evan and form a group; the others had already grouped up and started killing one another.

  As she approached the stairs, she saw the number of corpses increase. Festival posters—advertising an event scheduled for a week later—were scattered among the bodies. The world had fallen apart on the very first day. A week later, maybe all of them would be dead.She had spent the first hours of the apocalypse underground. She wondered what had happened above.

  Sunlight poured down the stairwell. At the top, she saw three people waiting with clubs. One of them wore a police helmet he had found somewhere. Another carried a riot shield. Had the police really tried to intervene? Or had they killed each other?

  “Oy, stop right there,” said the man with the club. “No one goes up. Unless you’ve got money.”

  Sloane saw the sly grin on his face. His friends joined in. Narrative Sense wrapped around her with unease. His words didn’t match his intent. Money? In this world?

  [Reality Check triggered]

  [First use tutorial displayed]

  [Checking targets’ Charisma stats…]

  [Your Charisma stat is higher than targets’]

  [Initiating 1d6 roll]

  Sloane thought she heard the sound of dice hitting a table inside her head.

  [Rolled: 4]

  Intimidation → Successful

  [Perspective triggered]

  [Executing targets’ POV]

  < The light spilling down the stairs shrank as the woman slowly emerged from the metro’s darkness. As she approached, the men noticed their hands trembling. They watched her long black coat and her body distort. Shadows stretched from her coat, concealing her pale, emotionless face. Her features blurred and twisted. >

  < As the distance closed, the terror of the inhuman sight spread through their bodies. The smoke turned into black flames, and fear seeped into their bones. The man could no longer grip his club properly. He threw it aside and ran to the other end of the metro. The man with the police helmet followed him. >

  < Only the man holding the riot shield remained. The creature walking within flames stopped before him. It wasn’t looking at his eyes—it was looking at his soul. Sweat poured down his face as he wondered why it was waiting. He saw its fiery lips part. A single word rose from within the flames: “Boo.” The man threw the shield and ran up the stairs without looking back. >

  [POV ended]

  Sloane had only walked forward. She had no idea how they had seen her—but she assumed they had been scared half to death. Reality Check was truly powerful. Her thoughts drifted again to the rare skill she would have gained in third place. It wasn’t because she was brave or strong that she desired it. It was pure greed.

  If even an Uncommon skill makes this much difference… I can’t even imagine the higher tiers.

  A sinister thought crept into her head: Don't think you're special, little shit!

  She climbed the stairs slowly. Sunlight burned her eyes. Concrete gave way to asphalt; dampness to the smell of fire and blood. The city was still there… but it was not the city she knew. The silence above was even more unsettling.

  She took a few steps and looked up at the sky. The clouds were gray. Very gray.

  Just as she drew breath, the familiar tremor returned.

  [System Notification]

  [You have entered the stalker’s radar for the second time]

  [Your location is being transmitted]

  [Understanding of Stalker classes decreased]

  Sloane held her breath. That persistent child wouldn’t leave her alone. Her throat went dry. “No… not now.” Her nightmare had returned. She looked around. The streets were empty—but empty didn’t mean safe.

  She had finally reached the surface. There were fewer walls and shadows to hide behind. The roads were wide… but the choices were many.