I leaned back in my chair, rubbing my tired eyes before standing to stretch. The faint murmur of co-workers and the rhythmic clatter of keyboards filled the office.
As I straightened my desk, I waved to a few familiar faces on my way out, offering a casual smile.
"See you tomorrow," I said, my voice carrying just enough warmth to show I meant it.
But I wasn't heading straight home.
My feet led me to my favorite spot a quiet coffee shop tucked away from the busier parts of the city.
The rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee greeted me as I stepped inside, and the cozy stillness wrapped around me like a warm blanket.
"Another new day, another new chapter," I murmured to myself, slipping into my usual corner seat.
After ordering a cappuccino, I pulled out my phone. This was my ritual. With a quick swipe and tap, I opened 'The World is Doomed',
The novel that had become my obsession. It was my escape, a portal to a world far more chaotic and somehow more thrilling than my own.
Hours slipped by unnoticed. I devoured chapter after chapter, the once-steaming cappuccino now cold and forgotten. The twists, the tension, the characters I couldn't stop.
By the time I reached Chapter 30, my heart was pounding. The cliffhanger was unbearable, and I was teetering on the edge of the story's resolution.
"You've got to be kidding me," I groaned. "It can't end it like this."
Frustration spurred me to act. Without hesitation, I upgraded my subscription to access the next chapters.
As the app processed my payment, a soft voice interrupted my focus.
"Sir, we're about to close," one of the staff said with a polite smile.
I glanced up, startled by the reminder of reality.
"Oh, right. Thanks for letting me know," I replied, pocketing my phone.
"No problem at all," she said before walking away to finish her closing tasks.
The cool night air greeted me as I stepped outside. The hum of distant traffic filled the silence,
But my thoughts were elsewhere, still entangled in the novel's gripping events.
"Back to reality," I muttered, crossing the street without much thought.
Then it happened.
The screech of tires jolted me out of my daze.
Too late.
A blinding light. A deafening crash.
Darkness.
I couldn't see, couldn't move. But my mind was racing.
Am I dead?
The thought felt absurd, even as it circled in my head.
"This can't be it," I thought desperately. "I still have so much to read... and to do."
Then something strange pierced through my panic.
Why do I feel... alive?
With effort, I forced my eyes open. My vision swam, filled with dust and rubble. The sharp smell of blood hit me, and I gagged.
Slowly, I pushed myself up, wincing at the ache in my body.
And froze.
The ground around me was littered with corpses, their lifeless eyes staring into the void.
Their uniforms were tattered, but they struck a chord of familiarity deep in my gut.
I glanced down at myself and gasped. I was wearing the same uniform.
My hands were painted with blood whether mine or someone else's, I couldn't tell.
"What the hell...?" My voice was shaky, my words barely audible.
I stumbled backward, catching my reflection in a cracked piece of glass.
The face staring back wasn't mine. Taller, leaner, unfamiliar.
It clicked.
The uniforms. The wreckage. The scene. It was straight out of The World is Doomed.
I wasn't in my world anymore.
The realization hit like a freight train. I had somehow transmigrated into the very novel I'd been obsessively reading.
My breath quickened as I scanned the chaos around me. This wasn't just a story anymore. It was real.
The scene I'd awakened in was unmistakable a moment in the novel, a battle turned massacre.
Whose body is this? The thought gnawed at me. How can I survive?
I clenched my fists. In the story, only a handful of characters survived this event. But I wasn't the main character, and if memory served, even secondary characters weren't safe.
Then why am I here? And who am I?
The questions swirled, but one thing was certain: this wasn't a story anymore...
It was my reality.
[System Loading...]