Trace swallowed hard behind me. "Old man… is it just me or is everyone looking at us?"
"It's not you," I muttered. "Stay close."
Then the airport's PA system crackled alive.
A voice boomed across the terminal. Smooth. Corporate. But dripping with something hungry.
[NEO SINGAPORE ANNOUNCEMENT]
"Attention Neo Singapore Players. Foreign Awakened-Class entities detected in the Common Zone. Continental Leader Rui Shen has authorized a public bounty. Rewards: Blueprint Caches x10, CR Credits x250,000, and enhanced reputation with Neo Singapore."
"Engage on sight."
The airport froze.
NPCs vanished. Billboards blanked. Ambience cut.
The entire terminal went silent — the kind of silence that comes right before a feeding frenzy.
Trace's hands shook uncontrollably. "Drum… DRUM… the continental leader—THAT'S THE HIGHEST AUTHORITY IN ASIA REGION!"
"Yep."
"He put a bounty on us?!"
"Yep."
"FOR ENTERING THE AIRPORT?!"
"Because of the global announcement," I said calmly, raising the barrel of my DLQ. "Calm down Trace. Give them all a wave. We're celebrities now."
A slow rumble echoed from the far end of the arrival hall.
Boots.
Lots of them.
Players. Armed to the teeth. Kho Tech armor, Quantum blasters, Ranger suppressors, Engineer drones, Phantom cloaks flickering in and out of visibility. Some were low levels hungry for scraps. Others were PK guild hunters. Pros. Reapers.
A Cipher-class girl whispered, eyes glowing with scanning code:
"There. Target identified. Legendary Vanguard… and the awakened Cipher."
Dozens of helmets locked onto us with synchronized ka-chk sounds.
Trace's energy pistol trembled in his grip. "O-Old man… w-we can talk this out, right? Maybe they respect elders here—"
A plasma bolt streaked past, vaporizing a metal column behind him.
Trace screamed. I didn't give him the chance to panic.
I grabbed him by the collar. "Four minutes, kid."
The item countdown blinked in my vision.
[3:21]
And then everything exploded.
Whistles. Bullets. Energy bolts. Grenades. The entire terminal became a killing floor.
"MOVE!" I roared.
We slid behind a luggage conveyor as the first wave opened fire.
Trace peeked over the belt. "OLD MAN, THERE ARE LIKE FIFTY OF THEM—"
"I don't care if there are five of them or fifty of them. Let's go!"
I swung my DLQ, loaded with kinetic-piercing rounds, and fired.
The shot cracked the air like splitting thunder.
A Ranger's helmet shattered. His avatar dissolved into blue shards.
The kill feed popped.
[You eliminated: Ranger_Asia34]
[Local Reputation –100]
Trace fired quick bursts with his energy pistol, the bluish shots buzzing as they hit a Cipher trying to flank.
"I got one! I GOT ONE!" He shouted like a kid hitting his first headshot.
The Cipher dissolved.
Then three more took her place.
[2:44]
Explosive drones hummed toward us, lights blinking red.
Trace's voice cracked. "Drones—DRUM—DRONES!"
I shot the first two out of the air, then flipped the conveyor belt panel, using it like a shield as the drones detonated.
The blast sent us hurling behind a row of automated check-in kiosks.
Trace gasped for breath. "Why are they sending so MANY?!"
"Because the leader ordered it," I spat. "Continent leaders set global bounties. City leaders enforce them. Their entire server gets rewarded for killing us."
"That's broken!"
"That's politics."
[2:08]
A Phantom decloaked behind us, blade slashing down.
I blocked with my gauntlet, sparks bursting as metal screeched against forcefields.
The Phantom hissed. "Die for the continent, Vanguard."
"Not today."
I broke his jaw with a headbutt, spun him by the arm, and hurled him into a group of incoming players.
Trace fired into the pile, detonating somebody's overcharged battery pack.
A chain explosion ripped across the floor.
Bodies dissolved.Loot scattered.
[1:57]
We dove over a fountain that rendered digital koi fish. The water flickered violently as stray bullets tore through the holograms.
Trace landed face-first. "WE ARE THE SAME CONTINENT AS THEM! WHY KILL US?!"
"Focus!" I said, dragging him up. "Stay behind me!"
I fired three quick DLQ rounds —One hit a Forge tank square in the chest. Another pierced an Engineer drone. The third hit a Ranger sliding toward us.
But the DLQ's durability gauge flashed warning red.
[Durability: 27%]
Trace saw it too. "Old man… we can't last two more minutes!"
"We don't need two."
I checked the Echo Cache.
[1:06]
More players repelled into the terminal from the upper balconies —Grappling hooks. Jet boots. Teleporter pads.
This entire continent wanted our heads.
Trace was hit by a shock-round. His body jerked. He fell to one knee.
"TRACE!"
"I—I'm fine! Shields drained but—"He raised his pistol, firing desperately. "—I REALLY REALLY HATE THIS PLACE!"
"Fall back!" I dragged him behind a pillar as bullets tore through it like paper.
A Vanguard heavy stomped forward from the smoke — shield glowing red, tower rifle humming with charge.
He aimed at Trace.
I froze.
"No you don't."
I tackled Trace sideways as a crimson beam cut a burning line across the marble floor.
[0:57]
The portal generator beeped.
[Echo Cache Ready]
I activated it.
Blue distortions rippled in the air, swirling into a circular rift. Warm light shimmered — a doorway back to Neo Manila.
Trace saw it and nearly cried. "YES—YES—LET'S GO—LET'S GO OLD MAN COME ON!"
But something felt wrong.
The footsteps behind us.
The shift in the air.
The glow on the floor.
A Phantom had teleported directly behind Trace — blade drawn back to stab him clean through the neck.
Without thinking, I moved.
I shoved Trace—hard.
"DRUM—?!"
The blade pierced through me instead.
A critical hit.
My vision blurred. My health bar plummeted.
The Phantom whispered, "Only one bounty target left."
I grabbed his wrist, snapped it, and shot him point-blank with my DLQ.
We both fell.
Trace scrambled to me, voice cracking. "DRUM—NO—NO—NO—GET UP—WE CAN BOTH MAKE IT—WE HAVE FORTY SECONDS—DRUM—PLEASE—"
Players were swarming. Dozens. Hundreds.
I felt my body fading. Pixels breaking off like burning ash.
I reached out and grabbed Trace by the jacket.
"Trace…"
I mustered the last strength I had.
And kicked him into the portal.
The rift swallowed him in a flash of blue.
The last thing I saw was the bounty hunters rushing in —weapons raised, eyes hungry, system lights flashing red.
My health hit zero.
My avatar shattered.
And for the first time since Season 12… Death.
Death in COD:VR is nothing like the instant cut-to-black most games use.It is an experience.
Designed by the developers to feel uncomfortably real — just long enough to remind players that dying has consequences.
When a player's Health hits zero, the world doesn't disappear all at once.
It peels away.
Sound is the first to go.
I can still hear the sounds in Neo Singapore's airport. Footsteps stretch into slow, watery echoes. Voices distort like they're submerged underwater.
My vision fractures around the edges — sharp white cracks spreading across their field of display, like my avatar's eyes were glass breaking outward.
Gravity becomes inconsistent. It was as if being pulled backward through your own spine.
Then, my avatar broke. Literally.
My avatar dissolves into glowing polygons — shards of data peeling off in slow-motion and scattering into the air like burning embers.
It feels like your hands crumble before you see them vanish.
And in my own field of vision. A notification appeared.
[YOU HAVE DIED]
And then the system takes over.
After shattering, I know, I won't respawn immediately.
I will fall into a space called the Void Layer.
It's a place where there is no floor. No ceiling. No sound. Only an infinite horizon of shifting dark blue and black — like a sea of code suspended in limbo.
I can't move. I can't speak. My avatar is gone.
Only my consciousness exists, floating in a cold weightless space.
Particles of my broken avatar drifts around me like fragments caught in a gravityless breeze.
Some players describe this moment as:
"like drowning but without pain,"
"like my soul got unplugged,"
"like listening to silence scream."
The Void lasts anywhere between 10 seconds to 2 minutes, depending on the player's number of deaths for the day.
In the Void, a white interface unfolds in front of your vision like origami made of light.
Then the system speaks — always in the same calm, neutral voice.
If the player has no Revival Cache:
A single prompt appears:
[Respawn Available]
Respawn at: (Last Local Safe Zone)
[You will lose: CR Credits, Equipped Item(s), Data Cache]
A countdown begins.
00:1000:0900:08…
If the player does nothing, the system auto-respawns them at the last local Safe Zone.
If the player HAS a Revival Cache:
The prompt changes.
The system asks a question:
[Revival Cache Detected]
Would you like to revive on the spot?
YES / NO
A glowing golden icon spins slowly beside the prompt — the player's one and only chance to avoid item loss, credit penalties, and humiliation.
If the player selects YES, their avatar regenerates instantly on the battlefield, restored in a burst of white-blue data fire.
If the player selects NO, the Revival Cache is preserved, and they respawn normally.
But the window is short.
A 3-second confirmation timer pulses around the "YES" button.
321…
If the player doesn't decide in time, the system defaults to NO, and they are respawned to the nearest Safe Zone.
Respawning is the opposite of shattering.
Your avatar reforms piece by piece: limbs, torso, armor, weapons, HUD, minimap.
Color floods back into the world.
Sound slams into your ears.
Gravity stabilizes.
And the first breath you take isn't real —but it feels real.
Like your lungs are catching up to your soul returning.
The system's final message appears:
[Welcome back, Drumstickkk.]
And the world moves again.
For a second, I just stand there—breathing hard, gripping the DLQ that is so close to shattering. I decided to bring out my M4 Black Gold Royal. I have to prevent DLQ's durability drop to zero. I'll have to fix that later.
The respawn fog fades from my eyes. My legs still tremble. My chest feels… hollow.
Trace.
I yank open my menu, hands shaking, scrolling through my friend list until I find his username.
TraceZero — Online
I tap call.
It rings once.
"OLD MAN!?" he practically screams into my ear the moment the connection stabilizes. His voice cracks with panic, like he hasn't taken a breath since he got teleported.
I exhale—slow, relieved. "Listen, Trace—"
"I—I didn't mean to— I couldn't—" He sucks a breath through his teeth. "I'm so sorry. I should've— You shouldn't have been the one who—"
"Trace," I cut him off gently. "Relax."
"I panicked. I froze. I should've stayed. I should've covered you. I—"
"Trace."
I put more weight in my voice this time. Enough to ground him.
Silence.
I look around the Central Plaza again—the vendors, the neon, the players running quests like nothing happened. Like my death wasn't blasted on a local announcement board back in Neo Singapore's airport. Like the whole city didn't just watch the Legendary Vanguard get swarmed by PK guilds.
"I'm the one who pushed you into the rift," I remind him. "You didn't do anything wrong."
"But—"
"But nothing," I say. "I made the call. I'd do it again. You'd be dead right now if I didn't shove you through that Echo Cache portal."
Another silence—this one heavier, but steadier.
I continue, "From now on… we can't move like normal players anymore. The Continental Leader of Pacifica continent put a bounty on our heads." I snort. "Such an asshole."
Trace lets out a shaky laugh—just barely, but it's something. "Yeah. Bet he thinks taking you out will boost his rankings and reputation."
"Let him try." I roll my shoulders, stretching my neck. My avatar still aches with phantom pain even though it's just code. "But things have changed, Trace. They know what we are now. Awakened. And that means PK guilds, bounty hunters, city scouts… They're all coming."
"…Old man," Trace says quietly. "Next time… we fight together. I'm not letting you die like that again."
I grin despite myself. "Next time, huh?"
"Yeah." This kid's fun time in this world just turned into a politics warfare.
I never wanted to deal with politics, too many egos, and a mess of rules that felt designed to strangle fun. But the Pacifica continental leader just put a bounty on our heads across the continent.
Even Neo Manila isn't safe now. We'll be safe inside safe zones, but in common zones, many players will still try.
The list of names targeting us will keep growing… I can't shake the thought that maybe flying solo won't cut it this time. I have to keep Trace safe from now on. I'm glad he genuinely wants to help me despite the fact that I now put him in danger.
"Like I promised you Erica when I proposed to you, there's no wall that can keep me from chasing you."
Even if it's just a signal, I will find my fiancée.