Started At Zero Novels & Stories

The intense nature of the craving that had held him back was still a little shaken this morning. Layla. He had noticed that silence, and her feminine scent from the first day he hired her as his secretary. He had coveted her from the beginning but he had suppressed his sexual urges because he neither wanted nor needed some kind of trouble at work. Even so, the lust grew stronger and stronger, until it became an unbearable need that tormented him day and night, and the control began to crumble.

This time I would finish him. "Shaurya Agnihotri starts counting your days in reverse manner. I am coming." The room heard my growling and frustration with my utmost hateful statement.

Above ground, every light in the forest died simultaneously. Mercer dropped to his knees. Replacement stopped smiling. Genesis Zero whispered a prayer. Hope screamed. And somewhere beneath the earth— The ORIGIN system announced: CREATOR IDENTIFICATION CONFIRMED. PRIMARY REALITY RESET INITIATED. THIRTY SECONDS REMAINING.

“Day 7. We start proving it.” “Okay,” Adrian said. _Silence. 11:17 PM._ _Beep. Beep. Beep._ My watch. 76 BPM. Not fear. Not yet. Just us. Day 7 done

[CURRENT RACE PROGRESS: 12/50] [CURRENT RANK: 15] Race thirteen she won. [CURRENT RACE PROGRESS: 13/50] [CURRENT RANK: 13] --- The night after race thirteen she sat at her desk and looked at the number for a long time. Thirteen. She had started this at rank forty one, four months ago, with no race history in this world and no understanding of how the ranking system worked and the Archive still fresh enough that the transition back to ordinary life had felt like walking into a room where all the furniture was in the wrong place.

If he wants to see the glitch in his perfect world, I will show him exactly how much it's going to cost him to fix it. Valerius raises the watch, and in the reflection of the glass, I see it—a countdown, glowing in red pixels that shouldn't exist in a stable system. Protocol Zero. He mouths a single word, silent beneath the hum of the dying machines. *Begin.*

But this one was imperfect—tangled, lopsided, frayed in some spots. "Not perfect," Elira whispered. No," Caelan replied, "but lived." Then he pointed to one with only this written on it: Clause Zero: The Listening That Begins. And underneath, a fresh card Elira had written an hour ago: > The system does not start with design. It starts with breath. --- 9:03 PM — Outer Balcony, Rooftop Shelter The wind bore laughter and stories of late night. Individuals sat in little groups. A stringed instrument out of tune but brimming with essence was played by someone. A child recited tales his lolo shared with him under stormlight.

The year I started middle school, my parents solemnly handed my sister and me each a bank card. "This is your college fund. There's 100,000 dollars in each one. The password is your birthday. Don't touch it unless it's truly an emergency." I listened. I treated that card like a treasure. I never bought a single new piece of clothing. Even my worn-out canvas shoes got patched with glue and worn again. I thought that if I was just responsible enough, I'd live up to my parents' idea of "fairness." Then, after the SATs ended, I wanted to use the money on the card for a graduation trip with my classmates. Instead, the ATM screen flashed a number that burned my eyes: [Balance: $0.00]. At th

Richard turned the photograph over. There were only six words written on the back. THE FIRST CHILD WAS NEVER A CHILD. Seraphina’s stomach dropped. “What does that mean?” Richard looked toward Zero-D. “It means we were wrong about Project Zero.” The baby suddenly stopped moving. Her tiny eyes opened. She looked directly at Seraphina. Richard continued. “We thought you were the beginning.” He pointed at Seraphina. “Zero-A.” Then he looked at Noah’s file. “Zero-B.” Then Zero-C.

“Why is there only 200 bucks left in my account?” The line went quiet for a second. “What do you mean? Wait, I thought the account still had money in it.” “Nope.” Gnashing my teeth, I asked, “All I have is 200 bucks. I just got word from the hospital, and my dad needs immediate surgery for his brain tumor. The initial payment is 150,000 dollars, and I have not spent a single cent. So tell me. How did my balance get so low?” “Um… Easy there, babe.”