The world didn't end with fire or thunder. There were no screams, no earthquakes, no apocalyptic storms. It simply stopped... feeling.
Kaelen was there when it happened. Not that he could explain it. No one could. One moment, people laughed, cried, argued. The next, there was silence—not the absence of sound, but the absence of emotional weight. No fear. No longing. No joy. Just stillness.
He walked through a city that looked untouched yet felt completely hollow. Buildings stood firm, neon signs blinked, streets remained smooth and well-kept. But something essential was missing, like the world's breath had been held indefinitely.
Kaelen felt it in his skin. A chill that had nothing to do with weather, and a warmth that didn't come from the sun. A dull, ambient discomfort—like a memory fading before it ever had a chance to matter.
Then, he saw it.
A fragment.
Floating above a cracked patch of pavement where a fountain once stood hovered a golden mote of light, no larger than a moth. It shimmered faintly, as if trying to hum in a voice the world had forgotten how to hear. Kaelen extended his hand toward it. And in that moment, something ancient and unseen whispered inside his mind.
"Empathic Ruin System initialized."
The message wasn't spoken. It was imprinted—etched directly into thought. A translucent interface unfolded before him, hanging weightless in the air.
[ FRAGMENT DETECTED ] Type: Broken Bond Origin: Unspoken Farewell Stability: Unaligned Absorb fragment? [Y / N]
He didn't know what it meant. But somewhere between instinct and desperation, his fingers touched the light.
The world shifted.
First came flashes—disjointed, blurred. A hug that never happened. Tears held back. A torn letter never delivered. Then came the ache. Not pain. Not quite. But the memory of it. Like a song striking a note he'd never heard but somehow remembered.
The fragment dissolved into golden dust, pulled into his body. The HUD pulsed.
[ FRAGMENT ABSORBED ] New ability unlocked: Residual Emotional Perception (Lv.1) You can now perceive traces of broken emotional bonds in your surroundings.
Kaelen stumbled backward. His vision blurred. Then... color.
Not literal color, but saturation—the emotional kind. Faint pulses in the air. Glows around objects. Places no one would notice began to hum.
A bench flickered with the pale blue of lost companionship. A rusted bicycle glowed faintly with childhood frustration. A wilted flower pulsed with the faint red of love never spoken aloud.
The world was painted in remnants.
He could hear something now. Not voices. Not wind. The muffled sound of things left unsaid.
Echos.
He dropped to the ground, breathing deep. His hands trembled. But clarity settled into him like warm water in frozen veins. He wasn't broken. Not more than the rest of them. But now, he had something no one else seemed to:
Sensitivity.
"Did you see that?" he asked a passerby.
A man in a suit carrying a briefcase walked past without a glance. His eyes blank.
"Nothing?" Kaelen said, louder.
Silence. The man vanished down the street.
It wasn't that Kaelen was invisible. It was what he carried now—what he saw—that was.
The system blinked again.
[ ALERT: Collective Dissociation Level – 98% ] Emotional Fracture Cluster detected in Zone-04 Mission: Stabilize Initial Zone Reward: Access to Fusion Module
Zone-04? Kaelen had no idea what that meant. But if the system had picked this place, if fractures were here… maybe they could be found. Felt. Maybe even healed.
He began to walk.
Each step revealed more fragments. Tiny sparks hovering in corners and doorways. A child's shoe lit up with residual warmth. A bus stop whispered quiet dread. Everything was marked.
There were no corpses. But grief lingered like a fog.
The world wasn't empty. It was too full—of emotions no one could bear. So they stopped noticing. They stopped listening. But Kaelen… Kaelen was listening now.
The first fracture was close.
And he was ready to hear it.
The fracture was near. Kaelen didn't know how—there were no sounds, no signs, no system pings. Just… pressure. Like walking into a space that wasn't empty, but waiting. Like grief holding its breath.
He turned the corner of a street where every window was closed, the curtains pulled tight like the eyes of someone who no longer wanted to see. Nothing moved. No wind. No birds. Only stillness that tasted like forgetting.
A playground.
Rust laced the metal frames. Swings hung limp—except one.
It swayed gently. No wind, no reason. Above it, hovering in silence, was a fragment. Not gold like the first. This one pulsed in green and gray, like sadness pressed under glass.
Kaelen stepped closer. The fragment recoiled.
He felt it. Not physically. But emotionally—like it didn't want to be touched. Like it wasn't ready.
Then—
"Don't"
The voice wasn't his own. It wasn't the system either.
He turned.
She stood at the edge of the playground. Pale. Too thin. Clothes oversized. Seventeen, maybe? Her arms were crossed, but not in defense—more like she was holding herself together.
"You see it too?" he asked.
She nodded, slowly. "Yeah."
"Is it… yours?"
She didn't answer at first. Just stared at the swing. Then: "It was. Might still be."
Kaelen hesitated. "How is that possible?"
She shrugged. "I didn't let go. Not really. It split off from me. Grew teeth."
He looked back at the fragment. It was quivering now—like a sob being held in.
"Was it… your brother?"
That startled her. A twitch in the jaw. She didn't ask how he knew. Just said:
"We fought. Over something stupid. He left. I watched him go and didn't stop him. I told myself it was fine, that we'd talk later. We didn't. And now he's—gone, I guess. Somewhere."
Kaelen said nothing. What could he say?
She looked at him. "You gonna take it?"
"I don't know. Should I?"
"It won't leave until someone does. But if you touch it… you'll carry part of it. Not just the memory. The weight."
He studied the fragment. It shimmered. It wanted to leave. Or wanted to be held. Maybe both.
He didn't ask permission. He stepped forward. The air thickened.
If you take this, it will echo.
That wasn't text on a screen. It was a voice—low, ancient, and made of more feeling than language.
Kaelen reached out and let the fragment sink into his palm.
The world tilted.
He saw the swing move. Two kids laughing. A slammed door. A face that looked like hers—but younger, smiling—then angry, then scared, then gone.
He dropped to one knee.
The pain wasn't sharp. It was... dull. Long. Lingering. Like sitting too long in a memory you thought you'd forgotten.
When he opened his eyes again, she was gone.
No goodbye. Just silence.
The swing had stopped moving.
The world was the same—but not.
Something was lighter. Or maybe something inside him had just shifted to make room.
Fragment received.
Echo stabilized.
Trace: Incomplete but accepted.
He hated the way that felt—so clinical. Like filing away someone's sorrow in a cabinet.
But then again… maybe it was better than leaving it there, hanging in the air, never heard.
He stood, slowly. His chest ached. His legs felt hollow.
Not everything he absorbed made him stronger.
Some things just made him… more aware.
More responsible.
He turned down the next street. Didn't know where he was going. Didn't need to.
Another echo was waiting.
Somewhere ahead.
And maybe next time, it would be his.