The rhythmic click of keys, once a comforting lullaby, had morphed into a tune of frustration. Laila's fingers hovered over the keyboard, muscles tense, jaw clenched. Another loss. Not just any loss, but a soul-crushing defeat in ONI Online, the only virtual world where she felt even a semblance of control, of purpose. Thousands of hours, countless late nights fueled by energy drinks and the desperate hopes of victory. All for nothing.
The glow of the monitor cast her small room in an eerie light, highlighting the haphazard stacks of textbooks on her desk, the scattered empty ramen containers, and the lingering scent of dried up leftovers of her stale coffee from the multiple mugs sitting on the base of her desk. It was the habitat of a self-proclaimed NEET statistic she'd begrudgingly accepted. University, she'd naively believed, would be her escape, a gateway to a vibrant new life. New friends. New BOY-friends. Getting to hang out with popular and pretty girls, going out at expensive places, but instead, it had become a breeding ground for more isolation, more loneliness that clung to her like a second skin.
The stark contrast between her expectations and reality was a constant source of simmering resentment. High school had been a painful walk through the crowded hallways, punctuated by silent lunches spent hunched over books in the library. She'd dreamed of university being different; of making friends, or just maybe, a chance of romance. Instead, she found herself more invisible than ever, a ghost in the academic machine.
Her online forum, 4chxx had become her only sanctuary. There, behind the veil of anonymity, she shared her struggles with others who understood the quiet ache of loneliness, the frustration of being an outsider. She'd also found other such "femcels" on this forum. They talked to each other about patriarchy and how they'd dismantle it piece by piece, but once she stepped outside her home, she would walk with slumped shoulders and an aura of gloom hovering around her.
Laila's avatar in ONI , an elf archer named Layla, was her alter ego: a confident warrior who moved with grace and precision. Lyra embodied everything Laila felt she lacked in real life: strength, beauty, and a clear sense of purpose. She even had her own orbit of male servants, who she'd order around, but that would only satisfy her up to a certain point.
But tonight.
Tonight, was a different night.
This particular defeat, a team wipe at the hands of a rival clan known for their ruthlessness, had pushed her past the edge of insanity. A male player on the enemy team had taunted Laila, and she'd dreamed of beating him black and blue when she'd finally win this fight.
Her breath hitched in her chest, a tight knot of anger forming in her throat as she stared at the words, DEFEAT, written boldly on her screen.
Without thinking, she clenched her fist and slammed it against the monitor, the satisfying crunch of glass momentarily blinding the pain that surged through her knuckles.
A wave of shame washed over her immediately. It was a stupid, impulsive act, the kind she'd secretly mocked others for.
Raging over pixels? Hah! That's retarded~
She closed her eyes, willing the screen to be intact, which was kind of impossible at this point. Instead of the humiliating glow of the game, a strange, flickering sound filled her room. It was high-pitched and erratic, like a broken fluorescent light about to give out.
Heart pounding in her chest, she opened her eyes, the image in front of her making a cold knot form in her stomach. Her fist-shaped dent sat prominently in the center of the screen. A crack, thin at first, was now rapidly spiderwebbing across the glass, like a dark map of the turmoil within her. The display wasn't just broken; it was pulsating with an odd, internal light. The colors of the game, once vibrant and familiar, now swirled and bled together in a psychedelic image.
The air around her began to shimmer, the walls seeming to ripple and distort like a reflection in disturbed water. A low hum filled the room, not just a sound but a physical sensation that vibrated through the floor and up into her bones, making her teeth rattle. The light emanating from the broken monitor grew brighter, the fractured glass seeming to hum with some sort of unnatural energy...
Laila's breath hitched.
W-What the fu-fuck's going on..?
Confusion warred with a strange sense of unease. She wasn't just looking at a broken monitor anymore; it felt like she was staring into something…else. Something ancient and powerful was being unleashed, and she, with a foolish punch born of frustration, had somehow become its catalyst. As she gently pulled her gentle fist out of her broken monitor, the glass pricked at her wrists. She flinched and squinted, trying to take the pain on the chin, but as she felt like she was getting pulled in.
H-How do I explain this to M-Mom..?
Taking a shaky breath, Laila decided on a swift, decisive movement. She pulled her hand back sharply, yanking the glass free. But instead of freedom, she felt a terrifying sensation of being pulled forward with equal, if not greater, force. The countless tiny shards of glass seemed to latch onto her, their energy dragging her closer to the source, and in an instant, the room dissolved into a blinding white light.
Her small, cluttered room, the sanctuary of her lonely existence, was about to become the gateway to something far grander and more terrifying than anything she'd ever imagined. The virtual world she'd sought refuge in was, quite literally, beginning to bleed into her reality.