To my otherworldly audience,

Before you step into this story, allow me to share a little about the person behind it.

My pen name, NoctisX, carries a meaning deeper than it appears to thee… Noctis is Latin for "night," and X represents the unknown — a mystery waiting to be uncovered.

As for who I am and what I represent…

I'm just a dreamer who finds comfort in stories darker than reality. In the silence of the night, I weave worlds where shadows speak louder than words. My words carry pieces of me — quiet, sharp, and sometimes broken, but always real, seeking beauty in broken souls.

Now that you know me a little, let us descend together into the world I've created…

The first rays of dawn hadn't reached her room yet, but Lyra was already awake. She lay on her bed, staring up at the familiar ceiling, feeling the weight of another day she didn't want to face. School. The word held no meaning this morning, just like every morning.

Turning to the side of her bed, she reached for her phone and glanced at the screen. 4 a.m. Far too early to start getting ready. She sighed quietly and picked up her sketchpad from the desk beside her bed. The blank pages seemed to call her name. There was a kind of comfort in their untainted purity—and the power to change them with just a lead of graphite.

Her pencil hovered for a moment before she pressed it to paper. The familiar scrape of graphite broke the silence of the room. Thoughts, half-formed and wandering, flowed from her fingers onto the page. Drawing was easier than talking. Easier than facing the world outside her room.

A soft knock at her door broke the quiet.

"Lyra?" Nova's small voice called out.

She glanced at her phone. Hours had slipped by unnoticed. 7 a.m. Already. School started in an hour. With a sigh, she set her sketchpad aside, stretched, and prepared herself for the day ahead.

After getting ready, she headed downstairs, grabbed a quick breakfast, and offered a brief, "Bye," to her parents before leaving the house.

As she walked, the familiar sights of the neighborhood greeted her. Mr. Tanaka dragged his trash cans to the curb, muttering to himself as always. Mrs. Hoshino tended to her plants with meticulous care, while two children raced down the sidewalk, laughing without a care. Lyra observed it all silently, letting the small details etch themselves in her mind.

Everything seemed ordinary, predictable, almost boring. Yet she couldn't help but notice—the slight tilt of a mailbox, a cracked tile on the pavement, the rhythm of footsteps against concrete. Little things, insignificant to anyone else, but to her, a quiet record of the world she moved through without ever fully being part of it.

Her brother trailed behind her as they walked to school. She pulled out her headphones and let the music connect her to the world. Soon, she arrived at school, greeted by familiar clichés and friends alike. Nova had already sprinted off to his class, wishing her a quick goodbye.

As she turned, she saw Lex, her best friend. They bonded over art, anime, music, and puzzle-solving. Together, they walked to the assembly that was already in progress, their conversation flowing as naturally as ever.

Meanwhile, in a high-rise office overlooking the school, the Patterson estate was alive with a different kind of morning.

"Mr. and Mrs. Patterson, you are our last stop today," a sharp voice announced. "I believe the details of our contract are complete. Are the specimens ready?"

The owners of the school exchanged a cold, calculating glance. Outside, everything appeared ordinary. Students walked, teachers prepared lessons, and the sun rose over a quiet town. But inside, plans that would soon turn that ordinary morning upside down were already in motion.

Minutes later, without warning, figures dressed in ash suits moved silently through the school grounds. No alarms, no announcements—just sudden, precise infiltration. The ordinary day that Lyra had walked through with detached observation was about to shatter completely.

Lyra sat at her desk, pencil poised, eyes scanning the equations on the board. Advanced Physics was her favorite subject—not because it was easy, but because it obeyed rules. Every calculation, every law was predictable, orderly. Unlike humans. Unlike the world outside.

She was halfway through solving a complex problem when the door slammed open. The sudden noise made heads turn.

"Everyone! Clear your desks. Remove all your clothes. Head to the assembly immediately!" a figure barked, voice sharp and commanding.

Shock rippled through the classroom. Teachers froze. Students stared, unsure if this was some kind of joke. But Lyra, for a moment, just tilted her head and studied them. They were precise, systematic, moving like a coordinated unit. Every detail mattered—the way they held themselves, the way they anticipated resistance.

The teacher tried to protest, but the intruders were already moving to the next desk, enforcing their order with precise, unyielding force.

"Wait… this is ridiculous," one student protested, voice shaking. "How can anyone just ask us to strip in front of everyone? That's—preposterous!"

The words barely left their mouth before the air itself seemed to ripple.

Out of nowhere, a figure appeared—silent, precise, impossibly fast. It wasn't ordinary. Nothing about them was. In one fluid motion, a weapon materialized in their hand. No sound, no warning.

The student's protest cut off in a strangled scream. The bullet struck her head, invisible until it hit. The result was instantaneous—her skull shattered, blood splattering across the classroom, screams echoing as chaos erupted.

Lyra's mind raced, heart tightening despite her composure. Nova… is he alright? She glanced instinctively toward where he should be, hoping he hadn't gotten caught up in the first wave. Her pencil hovered uselessly in her bag. Physics, calculations, rules—none of it mattered now.

The invaders moved with terrifying precision, enforcing a nightmare no human could truly comprehend. Panic swept through the classroom, but Lyra's thoughts stayed with her brother.

She could hear the fearful screams of her classmates filling the classroom, piercing straight through her skull, almost robbing her of the ability to think. It wasn't just her class—it was the entire school. The noise was overwhelming, suffocating. Their cries were so loud they could have reached blocks away… yet no help came.

Why? she wondered. But it wasn't a new question. It was one she had asked herself too many times before.

She snapped back to reality when her seatmate suddenly collapsed. His body convulsed violently—an epileptic seizure. Before anyone could react, the gun fired again. Cold. Unhesitating.

The men in ash-colored suits didn't flinch. "We have no use for the weak and helpless. Only the strong and capable."

The smell of blood thickened—metallic, nauseating—filling the air until every breath tasted of iron. Desks scraped across the floor as students stumbled back. Some shielded their faces, others froze in place, paralyzed by terror.

The figure who had fired didn't move, weapon still raised. Its surface shimmered like smoke trapped in glass—unnatural, unreadable. It didn't need words. Its presence alone suffocated the room.

Then another figure entered. Taller. Steadier. Its voice carried across the silence, flat and mechanical, each word delivered like it had been programmed into it.

"You will comply—whether you like it or not. All students will proceed to the assembly hall. You will be stripped of your garments and assigned identification. You will be given numbers and sorted into your houses. Non-compliance will result in immediate elimination."

Murmurs broke out—anger, disbelief, defiance. A boy at the back slammed his desk. "We're not animals! You can't just—our parents will find us! When they do, you'll pay. My father is the chief of police. You won't get away with this!"

The gun shifted toward him.

The room went dead silent.

The taller figure spoke again, unbothered. "This school is sealed by a soundproof barrier. No matter how loud you scream, no one will hear. Don't bother with your phones—as you've already noticed, there is no signal. All frequencies are jammed. And as for your families…" it paused, almost amused. "Let's just say… we have ways of replacing you. They will never even suspect you're gone. I dare not speak more against my masters' orders. The rest will be explained at the assembly."

Lyra's heart hammered against her ribs. She didn't dare look at the blood staining the floor, nor at the trembling faces around her. Her mind was consumed with one thought… Nova.

If they were gathering everyone, then he would be caught in this nightmare too. She couldn't let him face it alone. No matter how cold she seemed to others, the truth was simple—she loved her brother more than anyone in the world.

The door swung open again—not the smoke-man with the gun this time, but a woman dressed the same way. Ash-colored uniform, face hidden. She didn't speak, only motioned for others to enter. More students. Class B. Then Class C. Soon, their entire grade was crammed into one room.

The air turned heavy. You could feel it pressing down, with everyone shoulder to shoulder, desks shoved aside like they didn't matter anymore. Some students looked like they might break any second. Others stared blankly, too scared to even blink.

Lex leaned close to Lyra, his voice a whisper.

"They're pulling our whole year together. Makes it easier to control us."

Lyra's jaw tightened. "And harder to get away."

He didn't answer. He didn't need to.

For a moment, her thoughts flickered to Nova. He'd be with the younger grades right now, probably terrified, even if he tried to act brave. But she pushed the thoughts down. She couldn't spiral—not yet. She had friends here, classmates, parents at home who had no clue what was happening. She had herself. If she broke now, there would be no hope for any of them.

She and Lex went over everything they knew, piecing scraps of information together like a puzzle. Barriers. Jammers. Replacements. Every possibility was already blocked. Every route, sealed off before it even began.

"They've been setting this up for years," Lex muttered, anger in his voice.

He was right. But no matter how impossible it looked, there had to be something. Even the smallest crack in their perfect plan. After all, even the strongest opponent has a weak point.

And as the room settled into silence, Lyra realized something that made her chest tighten.

If this had been planned for years… then every move they could think of, every reaction, had already been expected and countered.

Which meant the only way out—was to do something they couldn't predict. But how? They were only teenagers, stripped of their freedom, their rights, and soon, even their names.