Unwritten Mythos

In the dimly lit basement, Splitter tossed the bottles into the center of the room with practiced indifference. The glass clinked softly as they rolled across the floor. Without a word, he turned and left, the heavy door creaking shut behind him, plunging the space into deeper shadow.

All around the room, people sat bound to iron chairs, their limbs strapped tightly, heads lolling as if in a dreamless sleep.

Suddenly, Fan Ye's eyes snapped open. The world around him was dark and unfamiliar. He groaned, his head throbbing painfully. 'Where am I?' he thought. The dull ache in his skull was like a vice, squeezing his thoughts into fragments.

'It feels like my mind's been chewed by a beast...'

His arms and legs strained against the cold metal of the chair, bound tightly, rendering him motionless. It was a scene out of a nightmare. His surroundings were too dark to make out clearly, but the tightness around his chest told him he wasn't alone.

'An interrogation room? No...'

Memories flooded back in jumbled flashes. A company outing, casual greetings with colleagues, and then—the white-haired man. He had approached Fan Ye with a calm smile, and Fan Ye had responded out of politeness. Then, nothing but blackness.

'I've been kidnapped.'

Fan Ye's eyes swept the room, adjusting to the shadows. He wasn't alone. Rows of figures, all tied to chairs like him, formed a circle around the center of the room. In the middle of this strange gathering, a display of colorful potions gleamed faintly in the darkness—potions of unknown purpose.

The man beside Fan Ye stirred, his groggy voice breaking the silence. "What... where am I? What's this place?"

His loud question echoed through the room, stirring the others.

"Hey! Where are we?" the man shouted again, his voice rising in panic.

A young man with glasses, sitting a few chairs away, raised his head slowly. "I suggest you keep your voice down," he said in a calm, measured tone. "If you wake our captors, they may decide to deal with you sooner rather than later."

The man frowned. "What do you mean?"

The bespectacled young man sighed. "It's hard for some to understand, I suppose. Not everyone uses their brain, even when they have one."

His voice was quiet, but sharp. "I'll tell you what I know, but only for those capable of listening." He adjusted his glasses, the lenses glinting faintly. "A white-haired man approached me in Hainan. I thought he was law enforcement, but I was wrong."

The young man paused for effect, then continued. "The moment he clapped his hands, I blacked out. Maybe it was some sort of drug, maybe something else entirely. I woke up here, bound like all of you. It's been three hours and fifteen minutes since I regained consciousness. My body's already feeling the hunger and thirst creeping in."

A voice spoke up from the shadows. "You said you were in Hainan?"

The young man nodded.

"But I was in Ha Long Bay, Vietnam," another voice chimed in from the opposite side of the room.

"Ha Long Bay?" came the response. "I was in the three Northeastern provinces of China."

The young man with glasses frowned, the pieces not adding up. "What month is it now?"

"September," someone muttered.

"And it's getting cold," added another.

The bespectacled young man looked around thoughtfully. "It seems we've been brought here from vastly different regions. I was in Hainan, someone else was in Vietnam, and another in the north. How could we all end up in the same place in such a short span of time?"

There was a long silence as the group pondered this impossible question.

"Teleportation?" someone joked weakly, though there was no laughter.

Fan Ye's head spun with confusion. "I'm from Ningxia," he said softly, almost to himself.

"Ningxia?" another captive asked, incredulous. "That's north, too."

The young man with glasses leaned back in his chair. "Then, what's the purpose of all this? None of us seem wealthy or important. Why would they go through the trouble of kidnapping people from so many places?"

The others murmured in agreement, their thoughts circling the same perplexing question. Why them? Why here?

Fan Ye's mind churned in the eerie silence, but no answer came.

In the suffocating darkness, the sound of footsteps echoed ominously. The faint light from the scattered potions cast long shadows on the floor.

Splitter emerged, his presence filling the room with an unsettling energy. He made his way to the center of the circle, his gaze sweeping over the bound figures.

"You're more alert than I anticipated," he said, a sly smile creeping across his face. "It's quite impressive, really. I carefully selected each of you, and while you're far from perfect, you'll serve just fine as a secondary."

The bespectacled young man's eyes narrowed. "You're the one who brought us here?"

Splitter's smile widened as he sauntered over to the young man, his steps slow and deliberate. "No, no, no. You should say Sir, not you."

The young man's heart raced, a cold sweat forming at the back of his neck. Something terrible was coming—he could feel it.

"Is it... Sir who brought us here?" the young man corrected, his voice trembling.

"Ah, yes," Splitter replied, grinning. "Now you're getting it. I brought you all here. I expected you to be as confused and pathetic as stray dogs abandoned by their masters." His eyes darted toward Fan Ye. "In fact, I even brought along an extra... just in case I needed to make an example."

Fan Ye's heart skipped a beat as Splitter's gaze fixed on him. The glint in Splitter's eyes sent a chill down his spine.

"You, my friend," Splitter said, pointing at Fan Ye, "are the expendable one. Wouldn't the rest of you like to see how I dispose of unnecessary baggage?"

Before Splitter could act, a bald man sitting in the circle interrupted with an impatient growl, "Can you just get to the point? I hate when people waste my time with pointless talk."

In an instant, Splitter was upon him, his hand around the man's throat, lifting him off the ground as if he weighed nothing.

"I said, Sir," Splitter hissed, his voice deadly calm. "You'd do well to remember that."

The bald man's eyes bulged, his breath coming in shallow gasps as he clawed at Splitter's grip. "S-Sir," he choked out.

Splitter released him, watching with mild amusement as the man fell back into his chair, gasping for air. "Good. I'll forgive you just this once."

Stepping back into the center, Splitter spread his arms, addressing the room once more. "I know you all want answers, so I'll get to the point. Do you really think the world is a good place? Don't bother answering aloud. The truth is already in your minds."

His voice softened, growing almost thoughtful. "Everyone, at some point, dreams of changing the world. But very few ever try, because deep down, they know it's impossible."

"But," he continued, pacing slowly, "there are a select few who do try. Those who challenge fate, though they don't realize... it's already decided for them."

He paused, letting his words hang in the air like a dark omen. "Humans cannot control their own destinies. Your life, your death—it's never been yours to command."

The captives listened in stunned silence.

"But," Splitter added, a dangerous glint in his eyes, "what if I told you that you could change that? Right here, right now? What if I offered you the chance to seize control of your fate?"

He gestured toward the glowing potions scattered on the floor. "These... are your rebirth. Drink them, and you will surpass your humanity. You'll become something greater, capable of bending destiny to your will."

His grin returned, wicked and gleeful. "But, there's a catch. The potions are limited. Some of you will claim this power. The rest? Well... I regret to say, they won't be leaving here alive."

The captives exchanged nervous glances as Splitter pointed to a button embedded in each of their chairs. "In three seconds, your buttons will light up. The first to press theirs will be released immediately. The rest will have to wait. Destiny, as it always has been, is unfair."

"One... two... three!"

The buttons lit up, and the room erupted in frantic motion. Each captive slammed their hand down on their button, desperate to escape.

A soft click echoed through the room as the bald man's restraints released. He stood, flexing his freed limbs, a smug grin spreading across his face.

"Sigh..." He exhaled deeply, relief flooding through him. Slowly, he walked toward Splitter, who smiled, waiting for him to make his choice.

"First place," Splitter said, gesturing toward the potions. "You get to choose."

The bald man's muscles tensed, his eyes cold as steel. Without a word, he swung his fist toward Splitter's face, a snarl on his lips. "I choose to kill you!"