Ears ravaged by the symphony of gunfire, he pressed forward through the desolation around him. Numb to the agony that clawed at his lungs and muscles, unfeeling the numbness in his feet, deaf to the screams that echoed in his ears, his burden weighed heavily on his back. Holding his weapon firm, his mind was prepared to take another life. To die for his nation. None of it held any meaning at this point. Bodies dropped to the ground all around him like ragged dolls – this was not glory, nor was it patriotism. This was nothing but torment, a harrowing ordeal filled with agony and emotional trauma…
However, he stayed calm and pressed on. The cruel 'shell shock' and excruciating pain inflicted by the deceit and manipulation of propaganda twisted his reality, the tunnel vision of war rendering him aloof to the eerie clinkering sounds of gas shells dropping near. A pale, ominous blue fog slithered across the bloodied mud, slowly wrapping its cold tendrils around his legs before crawling up to his throat and lungs. The very air itself felt like daggers against his body.
As the darkness enveloped him, the battlefield filled with a chorus of agonised screams. A painful tingling sensation took over his tongue and mouth, while a crushing weight pressed against his lungs, constricting his chest. Glory? What lies. Compared to the horrors of this nightmarish reality, funerals seemed to be joyous celebrations. For the first time, he felt truly enlightened and disillusioned to the lies of the world. What a shame this didn't come sooner, for now he would meet his end.
A faint golden shine sparkled in the corner of his eye. The gold spread, enveloping his vision. It slowly became brighter, until it masked everything in sight.
Was this heaven?
He was disoriented, dizzy, his ears were still ringing and his vision was blurred. He slowly gathered his consciousness, to see a vast and expansive green field beneath a beautiful blue sky. Birds chirped, clouds floating along like great, fluffy, majestic white whales. The wind brushed past the back of his neck, his fluffy black hair flapping with it. Two bars, green and blue, were in the top left corner of his vision. Not on the landscape or sky, but almost like they were painted onto his eye. He slowly and shakily climbed to his feet, stumbling slightly as he got to grips with the new reality. The grass was soft and smooth beneath his hands as he pushed off the ground. He rose, and looked up to see a large white and blue patterned square saying 'choose player name: ________.' His breath caught in his throat, he thought to himself; Is this some kind of game? This couldn't be Heaven or an afterlife, could it? I died though, right? Still bewildered and in shock. He hesitated in choosing a name, confused and still trying to take such a massive rush of new information in. His head spun, confusing what was real, reality itself blurring at the edges in his mind. Actually, what is real? Is any of this real? Who was he now? Was he still himself? Amidst the confusion, he left the space blank. The system filled it in…
'Welcome to the game, Player 7.'
A monstrous, blood-red eye loomed in the sky above, its malevolent presence cold and unfeeling as it surveyed the scene below. Suddenly, the pupil of the eye began to dilate, growing larger and larger until the whole eye transformed into a vast, gaping hole in the sky, a portal to another dimension of pure void and shadow.
Within the vast abyss, a colossal figure could be seen, sitting upon a sturdy yet ancient wooden chair. His clothing was solely in shades of black, consisting of a shirt, unbuttoned halfway, tailored jacket, trousers, and dress shoes. Yet, the upper half of his head was shrouded in darkness, his features hidden from view. Long, unruly locks of midnight black cascaded over his shoulders, flowing down to midway of the torso. The lower half of his face was a grotesque grin, stretched impossibly wide, with exposed bone and muscle where skin should have been. The sight of it sent icy shivers down Player 7's spine. He leant forwards, resting his forearms on his knees. He leaned further, his grin widening unnervingly, as if he was savouring the moment. His voice crackled with rough ecstasy as he spoke, both booming and intimate, as if it crawled through the very air.
"Welcome to the games!" He paused, observing the audience's reaction with glee. "There are 100 of you, all have been abducted from different backgrounds and situations. Some saved from war, some taken out of cramped office work. Maybe some of you were, and maybe still are, asleep. Well, you're all here now and have been put into a game. Not VR, just abducted from the physical world into a new dimension of fantasy from my own creation. The rules are simple; 100 people, one winner. Run, loot, learn, fight. You all have three lives. The first two? Feel free to do whatever you like: form guilds, fight, level up. But, as soon as you are on your last life…" He paused, his grin stretching impossibly wide, leaning forward and holding the back of his chair as he let the tension build. "That's where the real fun begins. You are marked as 'Red'. You lose all allies and are now a vampire; removing lives from others heals you and increases your HP by 5. Got it? Yes? Okay, no recaps. Now, let the game begin!" He paused, "one more thing…" The man in the chair swung back and laughed. "If you die here… you die in real life! Have fun!" He rocked back and forth on the chair, clearly relishing every moment. "I'll certainly enjoy watching you all kill each other."
The man gave an unnerving smile with a twisted excitement as the pupil of the eye shrunk back to its normal size. The pupil of the eye quickly darted around, surveying everything once again, as if memorising every face in the crowd, examining every detail of the landscape, before rolling back. As the eye's invisible lids closed, the air seemed to thicken, as if the world itself paused, holding its breath, as if it expected something unspeakable. Player 7 couldn't shake the feeling that even with the great eye gone, something dark still lingered. Watching. Waiting. Always.
Most people ran in separate directions, with some staying at 'spawn' leaving giant brawls and mobs of people. Some started spam inviting the entire 'server' to a guild called 'Jammy Doughnuts with Lettuce'… what a weird name…
The further he ran, the quieter it became, until he eventually stumbled upon an abandoned hamlet of weathered wood with peeling paint on it. The air lingered with the smell of rotting flesh and wet paint, the sound of heavy rain filled his ears. However, there was one building with no damage and in perfect condition, not even any rain falling on it, not even a single drop, despite all houses nearby being absolutely drenched. How strange…
As he cautiously moved closer, Player 7 began to notice a peculiar phenomenon; ripples in the air, almost like shimmering waves. He reached out and tentatively touched one of these ripples. As he did so, a jolt of warmth ran up his arm, but it was followed by a strange, unnerving numbness. It was like a ripple had stolen his control of muscles as they seemed to convulse involuntarily. His fingers twitched, his heart skipped a beat, something didn't feel right. Without warning, the ripple began to rapidly spread out from the point of contact, blossoming beautifully into an astonishing aurora-like force field encompassing the house like a soapy bubble. His breath caught in his throat, it truly was a sight to behold. A kaleidoscopic display of contrasting and complimenting colours shimmering and swirling in the air. The hues seemed to shift and change with each passing moment, creating a mesmerising and ever-evolving display of light. It was as if the force field was alive, responding to the air around it and reacting to even the slightest movement. It was almost too beautiful to behold, yet at the same time, it was a stark reminder of the power and mystery contained within the house. Player 7's awe battled with a rising sense of dread as he struggled to understand it. It was beautiful, yet so unnaturally strange.
Suddenly, his arm was pulled into the shield and the aurora vanished. He tried to turn around, but everything had shifted. The silence echoed loudly, absent of the usual chirping of birds. The air was heavy, no wind, no rain - only the soft glow through the house's windows, casting long shadows across the cold stone ground, highlighting every imperfection in the rock. His heart raced as he tried to make sense of the sudden transportation. Was this real? He was in a cave, and standing before him was the house. The only source of light here was through the windows of the house. A shiver ran up his spine… his only option was to explore this house. Then, a notification came through…
"New Job: House Sweep."
"New job? House sweep? What in the world does that mean?" Player 7 muttered under his breath. The phrase alone filled him with unease. It surely couldn't be anything good. His eyes scanned the dim surroundings, and though he felt his heart pound with reluctance, he simply had no choice. He approached the house cautiously, the eerie silence broken only by the faintest of sounds. The cold steel of the doorknob sent a shiver through his body as he gripped it tightly. Slowly, he twisted the handle. There was a soft click, followed by the slow, groaning creak of the door opening. A rush of frigid air and dust surged from the doorway. Bats screeched from the darkness within, flapping their wings as they darted past him, disappearing into thin air behind him.
An ominous presence seemed to loom over him as the shadows inside deepened. The air felt thick, heavy, as though something unseen was watching his every move. He couldn't shake the sensation that the house itself was alive, waiting for him to take his first step inside.
A soft chime echoed in his mind, cutting through the silence.
"Journal Updated. New Enemy Type: Ghost."