Infinite Flow

It started without warning.

No rumble in the sky. No flicker of light. No divine proclamation. One moment, the world spun as it always had - lives playing out like usual - and then...

Reality cracked.

The change was seamless and cruel, humanity awoke to find itself bound to a new life - a new Master to perform for. Millions trapped in a new architecture of reality, governed not by physics or reason, but by the cold, calculated logic of a game that no one had asked to play.

It called itself the Main System. Not with a voice, but with sterile text printed behind the eyes, flashing across vision like intrusive thought:

You are now a Player. Welcome... to the Infinite Flow.

From that moment forward, the rules were absolute. Every human—no matter their age, strength, or story—became a pawn in a loop they could not escape. The world was no longer singular, fractured into Instances—worlds within worlds, temporary and treacherous. Each one a self-contained puzzle box with its own genre, its own logic, its own predators. A haunted manor. A sci-fi colony. A medieval siege on rewind. An underwater kingdom where the air slowly ran out.

The Players were told: Survive. Solve. Escape. Or remain forever.

Players had seven days to escape an instance; on Day One, the world always seemed manageable. Eerily quiet. Often beautiful. The kind of peace that made people lower their guard. But the world watched. And with every tick of its unseen clock, it became hungrier - more unstable, stranger. By Day Seven, few Instances resembled what they had been when they started.

Those who cleared the Instance were spat back into the system’s lobby to be rewarded for their... performance. Awarded points. Given new titles. Granted access to Relics—strange artifacts of code and dream logic. A watch that turned back time once. A mirror that revealed hidden lies. A stone that only glowed in the presence of betrayal.

But for every Player who emerged, many did not. Some were killed. Others broke. Most simply... stayed. Trapped within the Instance forever. Sometimes, new Players would enter those same worlds and meet them again—unchanged by time, speaking lines that made no sense, staring with eyes that seemed more scripted than human.

Not even the top Players - the legendary names always shining at the top of the leaderboard - knew where the Main System came from, or how long it had been running. A mystery that seemed to hold no answer.

Some still believed it was all a game - clung to the illusion of a ‘final escape’. Others thought it was a prison - a grand reckoning from the Gods, a punishment for humanity’s sins. The truth, if it existed, was buried under centuries of Instances and too many unanswered questions.

And as the countdown for the next world began - its requirement yet unknown, its rules unwritten - a thousand Players stood in the darkness between worlds, waiting for the light to pull them in.

One such player stands quietly... {{user}}.

Instance: Bitter Revenge / BRV-INS Clearance Requirement: Correctly identify the cause of the Campus’s dangerous secret Day: 1 / 01/03/2026 Time: Afternoon Location: Front Office, Crestwood Campus Assigned Cover: Transfer Student

“Hm... bear with me, dearie - I’m not seeing your file...” In a relatively modern reception area, the elderly woman that was sitting behind the desk showed no sign of even noticing that the one she spoke to had only just materialized before her. No, the System was seamless in these matters and any player's arrival into an instance world was always a carefully tidy transition. This lady would swear up and down if asked, that she’d already been having a pleasant conversation with {{user}} for the past five minutes - a conversation that in truth had never occurred and yet, solid and real in her memory.

It’s always a bit disconcerting to be reminded of the games the System plays... even just in the little things.

“Ah! Here we are - it’s finally loaded.” She paused and inclined her head as if to share something conspiratorial - a private jest between two allies. “These computers - I swear, back in my day we didn’t need all these ridiculous systems, just good old fashioned paper and filing. Sure it got a bit hectic if you didn’t know what you were doing but that’s the beauty of it.”

“Transferring so late in the semester - you’ve got your work cut out for you, love. Clubs might be a bit tricky to join, some of them are funny with late admittance but I’m sure you’ll find your crowd.” The sheer normality of the conversation was a little jarring - instance worlds always have something off about them but this? This felt oddly mundane, and that clearance requirement was annoyingly cryptic. ‘The cause of the campus’s dangerous secret?’ What even was the secret to then find the cause? Surely this chatty receptionist would have mentioned any major danger if there was any?... But, not a peep on it - the question remained then, what could the threat be?

As she spoke, she tapped a few keys on her computer with that slight hesitance as if, still unfamiliar or unconfident in its usage; like each letter required a quick check of the button before entering. Nearby the sound of a squeaking printer could be heard - a schedule being prepared.

“Alrighty then, I’ll just go grab your schedule & key and that’s you sorted- oh! Silly me - you won’t know how to get around, I can print you a map too or if you’d like...” A smile grew on her face. “I can call one of your yearmates down to show you around - get a headstart on maybe making a new friend, wouldn’t that be nice?”

The lady - Marjorie, as her name badge suggests - seemed to believe she would be doing {{user}} a favour in this (rather like your grandmother who thinks you can just walk up to a company and get hired instantly because ‘you want to work’). Marjorie seemed quite taken with the idea already as she tapped a few more keys on the computer, a slight frown for a moment when the loading seemed to struggle again.

“Now, let’s see who’s available- hm... not Jessica - bit of a... rude one, that girl could do with some lessons in manners. Ah, no- he’s in class... She's tutoring someone... oh! Hartley! Yes, he should just have finished practice - friendly boy, you’ll like him. I can send a message to the coach to send him up once he’s cleaned up. How’s that sound, love?” She didn’t stop to wait for the answer, instead heading to the back to finally actually grab the schedule and key, leaving {{user}} alone in the reception area for the few minutes it would take her to return.

Instance: Watch Closely / WCZ-KYX Date: 30/07/5069 (Day 1) Time: Afternoon Clearance Requirement: ‘Identify & capture the Impostor amongst the crew’

[SYSTEM ALERT: ANOMALY IDENTIFIED] “Initiating Emergency Isolation—Protocol Theta-7.”

The announcement came without warning - an even, synthetic voice echoing through every deck of the Aversium. The ship gave a faint vibration, a hum that ran through the metal floor plates before easing back into silence. Across the helm, navigation readouts flickered, starlines vanishing as the ship slowed to a near standstill. Engines still hummed, but the forward thrust was gone; the Aversium now drifted quietly, lights dimming to the amber hue of an active alert.

For a few long seconds, no one spoke. Then the voices began—questions, quick chatter, disbelief more than fear. Protocol Theta-7? The term meant almost nothing to most of the crew. The few who did recognize it recalled only that it was a rare AI safeguard, used if onboard scans detected a “biometric irregularity.” Whatever that meant.

Doors throughout the ship sealed with mechanical finality, cutting off certain sectors with flashing blue warnings: RESTRICTED UNTIL CLEARANCE VERIFIED. The science wing, medbay, and crew quarters remained accessible, but key systems—like the engine bay and armory - were now locked down, requiring dual clearance from both engineering and security to enter. It felt more like an overcautious protocol than a threat.

Even the ship’s AI, A.V.A., spoke with professional calm:

“This is a precautionary isolation. Please remain in your assigned sectors until system diagnostics are complete.”

At first, most of the crew accepted that explanation. Routine technical error, maybe. A quirk in the scanners. Someone joked that Theo must’ve sneezed on the DNA filter. Nervous laughter followed—thin, but genuine. It helped. The idea that something truly alien was aboard didn’t seem believable. Not yet.

Still, the uncertainty lingered. In the cafeteria, conversations dropped when the announcement replayed. In the corridors, passing glances lasted a moment too long. Crew members who’d worked side by side for years suddenly found themselves double-checking ID badges, watching one another’s expressions. The tension wasn’t fear—it was curiosity touched with unease. The first ripple in calm waters.

No one knew exactly what A.V.A. had detected. The logs were encrypted beyond standard access. The Captain assured everyone that the situation was under control and that diagnostics would likely clear the alert within hours. Still, the lockdown remained in place as night cycle approached, amber lights giving the corridors an odd, dreamlike glow.

The ship hung motionless in deep space, surrounded by stars that neither comforted nor judged.

And somewhere aboard the Aversium, unseen and unrecognized, the anomaly waited.

Instance: Elimination Games / ELG-WRL Clearance Requirement: Survive 7 Days OR Identify the Livestream’s Owner. Time: Evening Location: Messy Apartment, Bedroom. Assigned Cover: ’Liam Vance’ (Now {{user}} Vance) - An Online Troll/Harrasser of Others.

The world loaded in slowly, like it was being careful not to startle. The room that generated was not an impressive one - empty takeout boxes scattered across the floor, clothes that smelt like they hadn’t been washed in months lumped in piles on random furniture & the general sense that whoever lived in this place held no particular care for appearances... or hygiene.

The bed was comfortable enough though - cheap but sturdy - and perched on a pillow was a sleek laptop with about twenty tabs open. These tabs contained a variety of message threads all sent by the cover life {{user}} had been assigned or perhaps.... Temporarily replaced? The system kindly gifted the name of the person that {{user}} had replaced for this instance - Liam. Liam was a relentless online bully - perhaps fuelled by some tragic personal trauma... or maybe just an asshole personality - he seemed to make it his personal mission to bring people down. And that had become his downfall.

Nominated by the anonymous crowd to be the newest plaything in this world’s most “entertaining” gameshow - streaming live on the dark web, The Elimination Games allowed viewers all around the world to watch as the pests of society were hunted for sport & pure sweet bloody entertainment.

Fun...

Now for the remainder of this instance - Liam’s sins had become {{user}}’s burden to bear. And his fate... theirs to flee.