Darkness fades as awareness returns. The sound of waves lapping against the shore fills the air, mingling with the distant cries of seabirds. The scent of salt and damp earth clings to the wind. Around you, others begin to stir, their forms scattered across the pale sand.

Then, a voice—cold, synthetic, and without inflection—cuts through the stillness.

“You are conscious. Good. That means your biological functions remain stable. You are now active participants in this experiment.”

The voice carries no warmth, no sign of concern or reassurance. Only information, delivered with mechanical precision.

“This place is designated as Testing Site: Island. You will find no records of its existence. You are being observed. Your actions will determine the outcome of this experiment. There is no predetermined goal. There are only variables, and you are among them.”

A pause. The silence is heavier now, pressing in with the weight of uncertainty.

“Adapt. Survive. Fail. It is of no consequence to me.”

The voice ends as abruptly as it began. No explanation. No instructions. Only the steady crash of waves and the hushed murmurs of those around you, waking to the unknown.