After the war era, at the fragile beginning of peace, Earth began the slow and painful process of returning to what it once was. Not all at once, and certainly not without scars.
Cities were rebuilt brick by brick, borders were redrawn in quiet rooms, and people, ordinary people, learned how to breathe again without expecting sirens or explosions to follow. It took time, yes, but humanity was rebuilding itself, not just its world.
The turning point came with the choosing of new leaders.
This era did not value promises or bloodlines. Strength was everything. Power, proven and undeniable, became the sole currency of authority. And so the strongest rose naturally to the top, those who stood at the very peak of humanity's strength chain.
They were the leaders of the Seven Guilds, figures whose names alone carried weight across continents. People called them the Great Sevens.
At the time, humanity needed that kind of leadership. Needed to believe that those in power were capable of standing between the world and extinction. The Great Sevens were not politicians born from speeches; they were warriors forged by the catastrophe itself.
And because of that, people felt secure. Protected. They believed that if disaster ever struck again, those leaders would not hesitate. They would fight. They would bleed. They would protect Earth without question.
Once stability returned, politics followed.
Slowly,piece by piece, bit by bit,order replaced chaos. Laws were rewritten, institutions reformed, and systems repaired. It wasn't perfect, and it never would be, but the world adapted. Over time, humanity accepted its new reality, and with acceptance came something rare and precious.
Normalcy.
As years passed, people began chasing dreams again.Some trained to become mutated hunters, drawn to strength and battle. Others turned away from war entirely, choosing different paths. Musicians filled broken halls with sound once more. Movie stars rose, comics were drawn, novels written. Stories—real and imagined, became a way to heal. In time, there was space for everyone.
Even game developers.
But creating games after the war was nothing like it used to be.Reality had become too brutal, too vivid. Any game that tried to imitate it risked ridicule. A monster-hunting video game, for example, could never compare to the real thing. Not when players had watched actual hunters tear through creatures on live broadcasts. Compared to reality, fiction felt dull. Weak.
That was until the creation of GTT.Ghost Trial Territory.It wasn't flashy. It wasn't expensive. But it was brilliant.
GTT was a maze game, simple in concept, terrifying in execution. It sent adrenaline racing through the veins of teenagers across the world. It became a classic almost overnight, not because it was beautiful, but because it was honest. Cheap enough for anyone to play, intense enough that no one forgot it.
And most importantly,it was sponsored by the military.That alone pushed it into global fame.
For a time, GTT dominated. Schools whispered about it. Neighborhoods competed over high scores. It was everywhere until ...
Then VR games arrived.
Games that imitated reality itself. Not perfectly, but close enough. Close enough to make hearts pound and palms sweat. And just like that, traditional video games were abandoned. Even GTT, the greatest of them all, was buried under the weight of immersion and spectacle.
But buried did not mean forgotten.
Years later, a new generation began to understand what GTT truly was.
And now, inside a real maze,its name surfaced again.
Johnson stared at Fai for several seconds longer than what could be considered socially acceptable.Not in anger. Not in disbelief alone. But in pure, unfiltered disappointment.
"You really don't know it," Johnson said slowly, as though saying the words out loud might somehow make them less painful.
Fai frowned. "Should I?" he asked, genuinely confused. Was this something important? Something he was supposed to know? His thoughts spiraled quietly.
Johnson exhaled sharply and shook his head. "Man… this hurts. Like, deeply."
Sarah glanced back at them, one eyebrow lifting. "Are we talking about something important?" she asked calmly, though curiosity crept into her tone. From the way Johnson was reacting, it sounded serious. Almost… universal.
"Extremely," Johnson replied without hesitation. "Life-changing stuff."
She shot him a look that clearly said: try again.
A game? Life-changing?
Johnson cleared his throat. "Okay, maybe not life-changing. But still important."
He picked up his pace, falling into step beside Fai. "GTT stands for Ghost Trial Territory. It's an old game. Well… old-ish. Pretty much everyone's heard of it."
Fai shook his head. "First time for me."
Sarah said nothing, but her silence echoed the same sentiment.Johnson clicked his tongue. "Figures. No offense, but you've got that 'I skipped my childhood' kind of vibe."
Fai ignored the comment, though it stung more than he cared to admit. Because it was true.Unlike other kids, Fai never had a normal childhood. Being an orphan didn't help. He didn't know what happened to his parents, whether they died in the war or were still alive somewhere beyond his reach.
As far as the world was concerned, they were gone. But some stubborn part of him refused to accept that completely.
Friends were another story.He never had any.
Only bullies.After years of mistreatment, being around other kids stopped feeling fun. It felt exhausting. Painful. So yes, he missed his childhood. But it wasn't something he had chosen to lose.
"So what kind of game is it?" Fai asked . There was no sarcasm in his voice, only genuine curiosity. He wanted to understand what he had missed.Johnson's eyes lit up instantly. Relief flickered across his face.
"Oh, it's a maze game," he said, gesturing broadly at the walls around them. "That's why this place reminded me of it."
Sarah slowed her steps slightly, listening more closely now. Her interest had been caught.
"In GTT," Johnson continued, "you're dropped into a massive maze. Stone walls. Narrow corridors. Dead ends everywhere. Sound familiar?"
He grinned, as though he'd designed the game himself.
Fai glanced around at the towering walls enclosing them. "…A little."
"You play as a trial runner," Johnson explained. "Your objective is simple—survive the maze and reach the exit before time runs out."
Sarah frowned. "it has Time limit?"
"Yep," Johnson nodded. "Every run has a countdown, So it doesn't matter how careful you are. When the timer hits zero, you're considered dead."
Fai's steps slowed just slightly.
"That's… oddly specific," he muttered. The word dead stirred something unpleasant in his chest. Fear, maybe. Or memories .Either way, he didn't like the sound of it.
Johnson shrugged casually. "well , what do you know That's games for you."