Arknight : The Rise of The Grand Detective

The rain fell in relentless sheets, drumming against the pavement with a rhythm that seemed to mock the hurried footsteps of the crowd.

I kept my head down, the brim of my soaked hat shielding my face from the cold droplets.

The station was a blur of umbrellas and trench coats, a sea of strangers moving with purpose, their lives intersecting for a moment before diverging again.

I stood among them, yet apart, my shoulders hunched against the weight of the day.

Why do I even bother?

I thought, my fingers brushing against the crumpled receipt in my coat pocket.

Another day, another dollar. Or rather, another yen. Not that it makes much difference.

The train was late. Of course it was.

I leaned against a damp pillar, my hands buried deep in my pockets, and let out a sigh that fogged the air in front of me.

Psychology major. What a joke.

Four years of lectures, textbooks, and late-night essays, all leading to… this.

A job at a black company, a term I'd learned too late to avoid. Long hours, no recognition, and a paycheck that barely covered rent.

Dreams of helping people, of making a difference, had faded into the gray monotony of spreadsheets and endless meetings.

I used to think I'd be someone,

I mused, staring at the cracked tiles beneath my feet.

Someone who mattered. Now I'm just another cog in the machine. Invisible. Replaceable.*

The train's arrival was announced by a screech of metal and a rush of air.

I stepped forward, joining the handful of commuters boarding.

The doors hissed shut behind me, and I found a seat by the window. The carriage was nearly empty, unusual for this time of day. I shrugged it off, too tired to care.

Maybe it's a holiday I forgot about,

I thought, glancing around.

*Or maybe everyone else just has better things to do.*

As the train lurched forward, I stared at my reflection in the glass.

Dark circles under my eyes, a face that had aged beyond its years.

I looked away, focusing instead on the passing scenery—gray buildings, gray sky, gray life.

What if I'd taken that internship abroad?

I wondered, not for the first time.

What if I'd pursued a different career? What if I'd fought harder, dreamed bigger, lived braver?*

But the past was a locked door, and I'd long since lost the key.

The train rattled on, the rhythmic clacking of the tracks a lullaby to my weary thoughts.

I closed my eyes, just for a moment, and wished—not for the first time—for a chance at a new life. A clean slate. A do-over.

But wishes are for children,

I reminded myself,

and I'm no longer a child.

When I opened my eyes, something felt… off.

The carriage was too quiet.

I glanced around, my stomach tightening. The few passengers who had boarded with me were gone.

The seats were empty, the aisles deserted.

Even the usual hum of the train seemed muted, as if the world had been drained of sound.

What the hell?

I stood, my legs unsteady, and walked to the next carriage. Empty. The one after that? Empty too.

My heart began to race, a cold sweat prickling at the back of my neck.

Where is everyone?

I thought, my mind racing.

Did I miss my stop? No, that's impossible. We haven't even reached the first station yet.

I returned to my seat, gripping the edge of the bench as the train sped through a tunnel, the darkness outside the windows absolute.

This can't be real. It's a dream. It has to be.

But the cold metal beneath my fingers felt real enough.

The ache in my shoulders, the dampness of my clothes—all of it felt too vivid to be a dream.

When we emerged from the tunnel, the rain had stopped.

The world outside was bathed in an eerie, golden light, the kind that comes just before sunset. But it wasn't sunset.

It couldn't be.

I checked my watch, but the hands had stopped moving. Time itself seemed to hang in the balance.

What is going on?

I thought, my chest tightening.

Am I… dead? Is this some kind of afterlife?

The idea should have terrified me, but instead, I felt a strange calm.

*If this is death, it's not so bad. Quiet. Peaceful. No spreadsheets, no meetings, no pretending to care about things that don't matter.*

But as the train carried me forward into the unknown, a flicker of hope sparked in my chest.

What if this isn't the end? What if it's a beginning? A second chance?

I leaned back in my seat, staring out at the golden-lit landscape.

My breath hitched as the front of the train dissolved into nothingness, the sun outside fading as though it had never existed.

The world beyond the windows was swallowed by an endless, stretching darkness, a void so profound it seemed to pulse with a quiet, menacing energy.

My heart pounded in my chest, each beat echoing in my ears like a drum. There was no turning back.

The train was gone, the light was gone, and all that remained was the abyss.

Left with no choice, I stepped forward, my footsteps echoing faintly in the oppressive silence.

The darkness enveloped me, cold and unyielding, as I walked endlessly, my mind racing with questions I couldn't answer.

What is this place?

I thought, my voice trembling in my own mind.

*Where am I? Is this some kind of dream? A nightmare?*

But the chill in the air, the weight of the void pressing against my skin, felt too real to dismiss.

My throat tightened, and I forced myself to keep moving, one foot in front of the other, though I had no idea where I was going—or if there was even anywhere to go.

Then, a faint glimmer caught my eye—a single lamp, its light soft and golden, casting a small pool of warmth in the void. Relief flooded me, though it was tinged with unease.

*A lamp? Out here?*

I quickened my pace, my boots clicking against an unseen floor, until I noticed something else: a chair, simple yet oddly out of place.

My steps faltered as I approached, my eyes narrowing at the figure seated there.

A bizarre individual, impeccably dressed in a high-tailored white shirt and polished shoes, sat with an air of calm authority.

My gaze lingered on their face, but try as I might, I couldn't grasp its features. It was as though the face shifted, blurred, refusing to be remembered.

*What the hell is this?* I thought, my pulse quickening.

*Who—or what—is that?*

"Welcome," the figure said, their voice smooth and resonant, yet devoid of emotion.

"Please, sit." As if conjured by the words themselves, a new chair materialized beside the lamp, its design identical to the one the figure occupied.

I hesitated, my mind screaming at me to run, but my body betrayed me, sinking into the chair as though compelled by an unseen force.

"Who are you?"

I demanded, my voice trembling despite my efforts to sound firm.

"Where am I?"

The figure tilted their head slightly, a gesture that might have been amusement or indifference.

"You may refer me Len," they replied.

"As for where you are… well, that's a matter of perspective. Let's just say you're somewhere between what was and what will be."

I stared at them, my brow furrowing.

Between what was and what will be? What kind of cryptic nonsense is that?

My hands gripped the arms of the chair, the material cool and smooth beneath my fingers.

"What does that mean? Why am I here?"

Len leaned forward, their obscured face somehow conveying a sense of gravity.

"You're here because you're special. You possess a unique karma, a thread in the tapestry of existence that cannot be ignored. "

"My role is to process individuals like you—those who have the potential to shape realities, to bend the fabric of the universe itself."

I blinked, my mind reeling.

Karma? Realities? This… this doesn't make any sense. I'm just a normal person.

I didn't ask for any of this.

My voice cracked as I spoke.

"I'm not special. I'm just… me. I didn't sign up for this."

Len's voice softened, though it remained unsettlingly detached.

"Few ever do. But the universe rarely asks for permission. You've been chosen. The question is, will you accept what lies ahead?"

"What… what do I have to do?" I asked, my voice barely audible.