AndyB_writes

Have you ever felt nostalgia so powerful it hurt? The kind that hits whenever you think about that one game you played with that one friend?

For Ren Yamada, it’s worse.

Because his best friend, Kenji, isn’t just gone—he’s trapped in the past they shared inside The Game, a hyper-realistic VR world they once ruled together. A year after losing him, Ren logs back in... and what he finds is more than just memory. It’s the beginning of something darker, deeper—and far more dangerous than he ever imagined.

Some games aren’t meant to be played alone.

The Game: Project Rebirth

The voice echoed through the chamber like thunder—deep, mechanical, and cold.

Ren and Kenji didn't speak. They just ran.

Back through the corridors of Sector Null, footsteps echoing, guns raised. The door they came through had sealed shut, so they pushed through alternate tunnels—lower maintenance paths carved through glitchy geometry. The world warped around them. Floors bent. Lights flickered like the system was panicking.

"We're not supposed to be here," Kenji said, breath ragged as he sprinted beside Ren. "This part of the city isn't just locked—it's reacting."

They finally burst out into a long-forgotten subway line. It was barely functioning—half-glitched with floating debris and partially rendered platforms—but it was enough to escape. As they climbed out into Sector 7's edge, the sky above Kōto was no longer neon-lit.

Konran's logo floated in the sky like a warning.

They stood on the rooftop of an old garage, panting, looking out over the city. Every screen, billboard, and sky-projected advertisement now showed the same thing:

It wasn't just a visual effect—it had changed the gameplay. NPCs now ran from players. Resistance missions disappeared from the board. The economy crashed. Gear merchants were gone. Players in public chat started asking what was going on.

Player_947: Anyone else seeing the sky??

IvaNova: My safe zone just vanished???

DataGhost: My character… froze mid-quest. Can't move.

"They're rewriting the whole system," Ren muttered. "This isn't just part of the lore anymore. It's real."

Kenji opened his logs. The files from the cube had updated again. One new line.

"Subject KS-03 approaching full sync. Emergency countermeasures authorized."

"Emergency counter—?" Kenji stopped reading. "They're targeting me."

"Then we log out," Ren said quickly. "Now."

"Kenji," Ren repeated, louder. "Let's go."

Kenji opened his menu and turned the screen toward Ren.

Ren checked his own. His was still there—but grayed out, blinking with an error code.

[Logout disabled. Connection override in progress.]

"What the hell is happening…" Ren muttered, throat tightening.

They stood there in the rising red light of Kōto, realizing that this was no longer just a game.

They ran one more scan of the system, hoping to find a way out—but instead, Kenji's screen glitched violently. His character froze for a split second.

"Kenji?" Ren reached out. "What's wrong?"

Kenji dropped to one knee, groaning. "I don't know—it's like—pressure—in my head—I—"

The screen warped again. Colors inverted. The city flashed.

[Subject KS-03 - Neural Response Disrupted.]

Ren fell to his knees, screaming into the mic.

The world around him blurred. Aiko appeared beside him, glitching, her voice repeating.

His room reappeared. He was back. But he was shaking, drenched in sweat. His headset beeped with an error code he'd never seen before.

Ren tore it off and gasped for air.

It was a call from Kenji's mother.

And in her voice—shaky, broken—only one sentence:

"Ren… it's Kenji… something's happened."

The Final Night Before the Fall