Chapter 1: The Beginning of a Nightmare (1)

"Good job, Tilus."

Make no mistake.

"Great word today as well Tilus" 

Done work with precise and efficient on deadline

"You too, thank you all for your hard work"' 

How many times had he repeat these words ? 

A friendly, model employee, a cog in the company machine. After long sighs, endless overtime, and sleepless nights, he finally heads home.

The streets of Ho Chi Minh City pulsed like a living organism, its arteries clogged with motorcycles and pedestrians locked in an unspoken battle for space. The air shimmered with the heat of overworked engines, carrying the tang of sizzling meat from roadside grills and the acrid bite of exhaust fumes. 

Beneath the din of honking horns, Tilus Chu caught fragments of conversations—a fruit vendor haggling over jackfruit prices, students debating the latest K-drama plot twists, the metallic clang of a repairman beating dents out of an aluminum pot. He wove through the congestion on his motorcycle, a nameless specter slipping through cracks of reality. His reflection flickered in a passing shop window between advertisements for Samsung phones and Dutch Lady milk—hollow-eyed, skin pale under the fluorescent glow. Not sickly, not frail. Just… thinned out, like a man halfway between being and disappearing.

The rented house welcomed him with its familiar smells of mildew and jasmine air freshener. Tilus navigated past his roommates' abandoned flip-flops in the entryway, the ceiling fan's lazy rotation doing little to disperse the day's trapped heat. 

His own space is a sanctuary of escapism: shelves of books stacked high, an unsteady fortress of stories that offered everything reality never could. Power, adventure, purpose.

Tilus collapses on his bed and begins his usual doom-scrolling on the phone. Headlines flash by:

"Mysterious 'C-Virus' cases detected in several cities.""Experts say it's not serious, just another flu.""Quarantine measures suggested—but no need to panic."

In the comments, voices murmur:

"Another media scare.""It's fake news.""My cousin works in a hospital—this is worse than they say."

Then his phone buzzes—it's Dad.

Tilus hesitates for a moment before answering.

"Hello, son. How are you doing?"

"I'm fine, Dad."

"Good, good. Take care of yourself over there. Oh, by the way, you coming home this Tet? It's been four years, you know. Your mom keeps—"

"I'll try my best." His voice cracks slightly. He's been saying that for years.

After a brief pause, Dad sighs. "Yeah. We can travel, you know. Life is short; enjoy it while you can."

Tilus glances over at the orange pill bottles peeking out from beneath a well-worn Romance of Three Kingdoms book. "Yeah. Short."

"Oh, and guess what? Your brother's having a kid soon. You're going to be an uncle!"

The news hits him like a sucker punch. Somewhere back home, life goes on—family dinners, newborn giggles, incense burning on ancestral altars. A life if he had not make these mistakes

"Find a nice girl," Dad adds. "Don't wait until—"

"A wife won't fall from the sky," Tilus cuts in.

"You won't know unless you look up."

They talk a bit longer, filled with small talk and comfortable silences until a nurse calls Dad back to work. But just before hanging up, his father's tone grows firm.

"One last thing—stock up on supplies. The news says this C-Virus is spreading fast. Get food, water, medicine—whatever you can. And wear a mask when you go out."

Tilus sighs. "Dad, I know. You've told me ten times already."

"And I'll say it an eleventh if I have to! You always forget these things."

A faint smile tugs at his lips. Some things never change.

"Alright, alright. I'll take care of it."

"Stay safe, son."

The call ends, leaving silence in its wake. But Tilus isn't alone in the quiet—the buzz of his phone on the nightstand breaks the stillness. Its screen glows, illuminating a mess of scattered papers and an untouched cup of instant noodles from last night. He groans, rubs sleep from his eyes, and answers.

"Yo, you awake?"

William's voice crackles through, steady as ever but with a strange edge today.

Tilus yawns. "Barely. What's up?"

"You really need to stop sleeping like a corpse," William teases.

"You didn't call just to roast my sleep habits."

There's a pause before William's tone turns serious. "No. Something weird's happening."

Tilus sits up, suddenly alert. William isn't one to get rattled.

"What do you mean, weird?"

William lists his observations:

A man coughs violently in a café, and no one helps—just uneasy glances.A woman wears a mask and keeps muttering about safety. People glare at her like she's the problem.The Big C supermarket shelves are nearly bare. Rice, instant noodles, water—everything's being hoarded.Someone even got into a fistfight over a can of food.

"It just feels off," William murmurs.

Tilus frowns. "You're not usually the paranoid type."

"I'm not. But my gut says something big is coming."

Suddenly, a loud bang echoes from outside the front door.

"Shit," William hisses. "I forgot my key."

Tilus blinks. "Wait—you forgot something? You?"

William's routine never slips. That slip means he's stressed.

Tilus sighs and gets up, heading for the door. "Alright, I'm coming."

As he reaches the door, his phone buzzes again. This time, an unknown number. Tilus frowns—unknown calls are never a good sign. A text follows immediately:

"A catastrophe is coming. Prepare yourself."

He scoffs. It's probably just some dumb scam, but a chill crawls up his spine.

Then—

The power goes out.

Outside, William's voice cuts through the sudden dark. "Hey, did you forget to pay the bill?"

Tilus swallows hard. "No. I did."

Darkness swallows the house, and the city—usually alive with the sounds of traffic and chatter—falls eerily silent. Tilus's breath catches as the air suddenly feels wrong.

Then, a holographic screen flickers to life, its edges crackling with static. Tilus jerks back when he sees glyphs forming across the void. A figure hovers on the screen.

Not a human.

It's about four feet tall, its body made of cracked porcelain. Its face wears a grotesque jester's mask—one side blood-red, the other an endless black void. Hollow eyes gleam with something sinister. Dressed in a harlequin outfit, its bells ring out an unnerving, low hum, as if even reality shudders at its presence.

The figure moves—too smooth, too lifelike for a broken puppet. Then, it speaks.

"Greetings, everyone."

Its voice slithers into the room, warped and inhuman.

"My name is Verismon. Right now, I broadcast across Vietnam. There are others like me, all over the world, with the same message. The guardian God who protected this world is gone. Now, we must activate the Self-Selection Sequence for a new guardian God. You humans will face trials that push you to despair."

The figure pauses, then continues with a cheerless grin.

"Now—let the Stage begin."

A floating window appears before Tilus:

[Stage 0: Survive the Corrosion Disaster]

The world is being hit by a mysterious virus called C-Virus. It's airborne, and it spreads fast. Once people catch it, they go berserk and turn violent. Their eyes glow red, a clear sign something's wrong. At first, the change is subtle, but soon their bodies begin to decay. Their skin starts to peel like old wallpaper, and a foul smell of rot hangs in the air. Muscles slacken, making movements clumsy and jerky. It's not a quick death—it's a slow, unsettling breakdown that leaves nothing but a withered, lifeless shell behind.

Every person gets one antidote pill per day. After that, you're on your own, facing a race against time.

Type: Main

Difficulty: F

Clear Conditions: Survive for 7 days

Time Limit: 7 days

Compensation: 100 Coins

Failure: Death

Verismon's voice comes back, a cheerful yet sinister whisper.

"Good luck, humans. You'll need it."

And then—

The lights flicker back on.

The holographic display updates:

[The first infected has already turned.]

He turned to William, eyes wide with realization.

And outside—

The screaming began