The apartment was quiet. Too quiet.
Rohit flicked on the lights as he entered, illuminating the small 2BHK space that had been his home—and prison—for the past five years. Ever since the accident. Ever since his parents...
He didn't let himself finish that thought.
The living room still had traces of family life frozen in time: his mother's embroidered cushions on the couch, his father's reading glasses on the bookshelf. Rohit never moved them. Couldn't bring himself to.
Mohan was the only person who still came by. The only one who'd been there when everything fell apart. Childhood friend. Basically a brother at this point.
(And the only person who thinks I'm insane for playing this game every night for seven years.)
Rohit grabbed leftovers from the fridge—some dal and rice from three days ago—and shoved them in the microwave. While they reheated, he changed into worn sweatpants and an old tournament T-shirt, then carried his food to the second bedroom.
His sanctuary.
The room was a shrine to his obsessions: walls plastered with sci-fi movie posters, shelves crammed with manga volumes, dog-eared science fiction novels, and textbooks on quantum mechanics he'd never quite finished. And there, in the center of it all like some kind of futuristic sarcophagus—
—his VR pod.
Rohit set his food down and ran his hand along the pod's smooth surface. Seven years. Thousands of hours. All leading to tonight.
"Okay," he whispered to himself. "Let's end this."
He climbed inside, the pod's cushioned interior molding to his body as the visor descended over his face. His heart hammered in his chest.
KINGDOM X MONSTER
WELCOME BACK, CID
The world materialized around him.
He stood before a castle that defied sanity.
Black spires clawed at a blood-red sky. The architecture twisted in ways that made his eyes hurt—impossible angles, gravity-defying towers, windows that seemed to watch him. This was the Eternal Throne, seat of power for the Pandora Continent's greatest tyrant.
Ven De Reinhert. The Eleventh Circle Mage.
Rohit—no, Cid now—tightened his grip on his sword. Beside him, his party members stood ready:
Lyra, the elven spirit mage—silver hair cascading down her back, pointed ears, eyes like distant stars, and a bow that channeled both arrows and spiritual energy.
Dravik, the half-dragon tank, scales gleaming like obsidian.
Borin, the dwarf warrior who'd saved his ass more times than he could count.
Serina, the saintess whose healing had kept them alive through impossible odds.
Aldric, the sword saint and silent guardian.
And him—Cid, the magic swordsman who'd spent a year and a half reaching this moment.
"Ready?" Lyra asked softly.
Cid nodded. "Let's finish this."
They pushed open the massive doors.
The throne room was vast and empty—just a long crimson carpet leading to an ornate throne where he sat.
Ven De Reinhert.
He looked almost bored. Silver hair, crimson robes, eyes that held the weight of centuries. Behind him, through massive stained-glass windows, shapes writhed in the darkness—thousands of monsters, enslaved by his will.
"So," Ven said, his voice echoing. "You've finally arrived. The hero. How... predictable."
"Release them," Cid demanded. "Free the monsters. End your tyranny."
Ven smiled. "Or what? You'll defeat me? You—a player?"
(Wait. Did he just—?)
Before Cid could process that, Ven raised one hand.
PRESSURE.
Magic exploded outward like a tidal wave. Cid's party crumpled to their knees, crushed by pure magical force. Even Dravik—half-dragon, built like a mountain—slammed face-first into the ground.
[HP: 892/1200]
[Status: SUPPRESSED]
Cid gritted his teeth, every muscle screaming. Move. Move!
His hand found his sword. He pushed against the invisible weight, inch by agonizing inch, until—
He stood.
"Impossible," Ven murmured.
Cid launched forward, blade igniting with magic.
"VOID SPEAR!"
Ven's voice thundered through the chamber. A lance of pure darkness materialized and shot toward Cid at impossible speed.
Cid twisted mid-air—barely dodging—but the spear grazed his shoulder, tearing through armor like paper.
[HP: 743/1200] [Status: BLEEDING]
"Serina! Heal!" Cid barked.
Golden light washed over him as the saintess's magic took effect. The bleeding stopped, but his health only partially recovered.
"He's level 250," Dravik growled, slamming his shield into the ground. "This is going to hurt."
Ven rose from his throne, crimson robes billowing despite the absence of wind. "You think sheer determination will save you? How naive."
He snapped his fingers.
The stained-glass windows exploded inward. Shapes poured through—monsters. Dozens of them. Corrupted beasts with too many eyes, too many teeth, all under Ven's absolute control.
"Borin! Dravik! Hold the line!" Cid commanded. "Lyra, Aldric—with me!"
The dwarf and half-dragon slammed into the monster wave, buying them seconds.
Cid dashed toward Ven, Aldric flanking left. The sword saint moved like water—silent, efficient, deadly. They attacked in unison.
Ven blocked both strikes with a barrier of pure magic, not even moving from where he stood.
"Pathetic."
He thrust his palm forward. "IMPACT."
The invisible force sent both Cid and Aldric flying backward, crashing through stone pillars.
[HP: 621/1200]
(Behind the screen, Rohit's jaw clenched. Come on, come on—this pattern, I know this pattern—)
"Lyra!" Cid shouted, struggling to his feet. "Spirit Arrow—NOW!"
The elf drew her bow, but instead of a physical arrow, three spirits materialized around her—blue, silver, and gold. They merged with the drawn string, forming a single radiant projectile that pulsed with otherworldly energy.
"Spirit Arrow: Trinity Surge!"
The arrow flew.
Ven's eyes widened—just slightly.
He raised both hands. "REFLECTIVE VOID—"
Too late.
The spirit arrow punched through his barrier and slammed into his chest, detonating in a burst of spectral light. Ven staggered backward—the first time he'd moved involuntarily.
[VEN DE REINHERT: 87,432/120,000 HP]
"Impossible," Ven hissed. "That technique—you shouldn't have access to—" He stopped himself. Smiled coldly. "Ah. I see. You've been quite thorough, haven't you... player?"
There it was again. That word.
No time to think about it.
"Everyone—FULL ASSAULT!"
The party converged. Borin's axe blazed with dwarven fire-runes. Dravik's claws extended, dripping with corrosive venom. Serina's holy magic burned away the corrupted monsters. Lyra fired arrow after arrow, each one trailing spiritual flames.
Ven laughed—actually laughed—and raised his staff high.
"BEAST TIDE: MASTER OF ALL!"
The ground trembled. From every shadow, every corner, hundreds—thousands—of monsters emerged. The room filled with roaring, screeching chaos. Wolves with bone spurs. Serpents wreathed in poison. Gargoyles with razor wings.
All under his absolute control.
"Shit!" Cid barely deflected a lunging wolf. "We can't fight them all!"
"Then don't fight them!" Lyra shouted. She planted her bow in the ground and pressed her palms together. "Spirits of the ancient forest—heed my call! SANCTUARY DOMAIN!"
A dome of silver light erupted around the party, repelling the monsters. They clawed and bit at the barrier, but couldn't break through.
"That'll hold for sixty seconds!" Lyra gasped, sweat beading on her forehead. "Make it count!"
Ven tilted his head, intrigued. "Impressive. But meaningless."
He began chanting—words in a language that predated kingdoms, that bent reality itself.
The air grew heavy. Wrong. Suffocating.
"He's casting Eleventh Circle magic," Aldric said quietly. "If that finishes—"
"It won't." Cid's eyes blazed with determination. He glanced at his party. "Dravik, Borin—when the barrier drops, you hold off the beasts for ten seconds. That's all I need."
"You got it, lad," Borin grinned.
"Serina, full buffs on me and Aldric. Lyra, one more Trinity Surge—aim for his casting focus."
"On it."
"Aldric..." Cid met the sword saint's eyes. "Eclipse Cross?"
Aldric nodded once. "Eclipse Cross."
(Rohit's hands flew across the controls, swapping characters, queuing abilities, timing cooldowns down to the millisecond. This was it. Seven years of practice. Every boss. Every impossible fight. All for this moment.)
The barrier shattered.
Monsters flooded in.
Dravik and Borin roared, meeting the tide head-on—buying seconds with blood and steel.
Serina's magic washed over Cid and Aldric—speed buffs, damage amplification, protective wards.
Lyra fired her Spirit Arrow.
It struck Ven's staff dead-center, disrupting his chant. The Eleventh Circle spell collapsed, backlashing into raw magical chaos.
"NOW!" Cid screamed.
He and Aldric moved as one.
Cid's blade ignited with crimson fire—every enchantment, every skill, everything he'd built over seven years channeled into a single strike.
Aldric's sword blazed with pure white light—the legendary technique of the sword saint lineage.
They crossed paths at impossible speed, both blades carving through Ven from opposite angles.
"ECLIPSE CROSS!"
The attack formed an X of light and fire across Ven's body.
Time seemed to freeze.
Then Ven's HP bar plummeted.
[VEN DE REINHERT: 0/120,000 HP]
The monsters vanished—control severed.
Ven collapsed to his knees, staff clattering to the ground. Blood—or something like it—seeped from his wounds.
The party stood frozen, weapons ready, waiting for the trick. The second phase. The surprise mechanic.
But Ven just... laughed. Quietly. Almost sadly.
"Well played," he whispered. "Seven years. All leading to this. And now..." He looked up at Cid, and for a moment, his eyes seemed to see through the avatar. "Now it begins."
"What?" Cid stepped forward. "What begins?"
"You'll understand soon enough." Ven's form began to dissolve into particles of light. "Good luck, Rohit. You're going to need it."
(Rohit froze. His real name. Ven just said his REAL NAME.)
"Wait! How do you—"
But Ven De Reinhert was gone.
Silence fell over the throne room.
They stood among the wreckage—pillars collapsed, scorch marks covering every surface, the stained-glass windows shattered. Through them, the night sky was clear. No monsters remained.
The party was battered, bloodied, barely standing. But alive. They'd all survived.
"Is it... over?" Serina whispered, voice hoarse.
Cid nodded slowly. "Yeah. It's—"
CRACK.
Everyone spun toward the sound.
The throne—carved from black stone and pulsing with residual magic—was splitting down the middle. Cracks spiderwebbed across its surface, glowing with blue light.
Then it shattered.
Something rose from the wreckage. A chest. No—not a chest. A relic. Ancient. Covered in symbols that hurt to look at.
"What is that?" Kael breathed.
The screen flickered.
(Rohit frowned. "What the—")
END CREDITS
The text scrolled across the screen in elegant script, accompanied by the game's haunting main theme.
"WHAT?!" Rohit shouted at his monitor. "No! What was in the box?! You can't just end it like—"
The credits stopped.
The screen went dark.
Then—
His character moved on its own.
Cid walked toward the relic, footsteps echoing in the ruined throne room. The party members stood frozen like statues as he approached.
"No, I'm not controlling this," Rohit muttered, hands off the keyboard. "What's happening?"
Cid reached the relic.
Opened it.
BRILLIANT BLUE LIGHT ERUPTED FROM THE BOX.
It swallowed Cid whole, dissolving him into particles of pure radiance. The light grew brighter, brighter, consuming the entire screen—
Then Rohit's VR pod started glowing.
"Oh shit—"
The same blue light poured from the visor, from the console, from every seam and surface. It filled the room like liquid fire.
Rohit tried to rip the visor off. Couldn't. His hands wouldn't move. The light wrapped around him, pulling him in—
Through his window, barely visible through the blazing radiance, stood the glowing humanoid figure from before.
Watching.
(Who—what are you—?!)
The light consumed everything.
Rohit's consciousness flickered.
And went dark.
Birdsong.
That was the first thing he noticed. Real birdsong, not the synthesized sound from the game.
Then: grass. The smell of it. Fresh. Alive.
Rohit's eyes fluttered open.
Blue sky. Clouds drifting lazily overhead. A gentle breeze carrying the scent of wildflowers.
He sat up slowly, head spinning.
He was in a field. An endless sea of grass stretched in every direction, dotted with trees and—was that a lake?
"Where..." His voice came out hoarse. Wrong. Different.
Rohit looked down at his hands.
They were gloved. Armored. Not his hands.
Panic surged through him. He scrambled to his feet—taller than he should be, moving with a grace he'd never possessed—and ran toward the lake.
Please no. Please no. Please—
He reached the water's edge and looked down at his reflection.
Silver-white hair. Sharp features. Heterochromatic eyes—one gold, one blue. Armor of black and crimson, a sword at his hip that hummed with dormant magic.
Cid.
He was looking at Cid.
His game avatar.
"No," Rohit whispered. Then louder: "No, no, no, NO—"
His voice echoed across the empty field.
He fell to his knees at the water's edge, staring at the impossible reflection.
This wasn't real. Couldn't be real.
But the grass was too detailed. The sun too warm. The fear in his chest—Cid's chest—too visceral.
Somewhere in the distance, something roared.
Rohit looked up sharply.
Through the trees, something massive moved. Scales glinting in the sunlight.
A dragon.
"Oh," he said faintly. "Oh fuck."
End of Chapter 2 – To Be Continued...