Game over

Kade blinked as his eyes adjusted to the soft sunlight pouring in through a gaping hole in the ceiling. Dust drifted through the air like lazy fireflies. Whatever this place used to be, time had definitely taken a sledgehammer to it.

The ruins were silent—except for the occasional creak of old stone settling or a bird calling somewhere far above. Vines crawled along broken pillars. Cracked tiles lined the floor like a forgotten mosaic puzzle. He could even hear wind whistling softly through the collapsed roof.

"Okay," he muttered, arms crossed over his pajama top. "First impression: love the natural lighting. Zero out of ten on interior design."

There were two visible paths.

One led through a collapsed wall—open to the world outside. He could see rugged cliffs, dry grass swaying in the breeze, and something that might've been a road once upon a time.

The other path? A stairway, partially hidden behind a fallen arch and trailing into shadows so thick they practically dared you to trip on them. It looked like a place where moldy secrets went to retire.

Kade stood between them, slippered feet silent on the dusty floor.

"So… go outside and risk wild animals, or head downstairs and meet whatever lives in horror basements."

He rubbed his chin. "Classic game design. Two obvious choices. Probably gonna die either way."

There was no sign, no floating quest marker, no tutorial NPC waiting to explain the stakes. Just ruin and quiet.

And still no VR menu.

He exhaled slowly, almost amused. "Okay, brain. Either this is a bug, or I'm inside the most immersive, high-stakes roleplay server of all time."

He glanced toward the sunlight. Warm air. Fresh breeze. Possibly civilization.

Then he looked back at the stairs. Darkness. Musty air. Mystery.

He hesitated only a second.

"…Screw it. If I'm gonna get stuck in a hallucination, I want the version with treasure chests."

And with a light sigh, he started his descent into the barely visible hallway—completely unaware that every choice he made was about to matter a lot more than he thought.

Kade descended step by careful step, the beam from his cellphone slicing through the stale air like a sword made of cheap plastic and desperation. The battery sat at 52%—not ideal, but better than nothing.

His other hand clutched the wireless mouse like it was some kind of totem. Completely useless, but somehow comforting. Like bringing a spoon to a swordfight.

The stairs were uneven and damp, the kind of place where mold had probably evolved its own language. The silence down here wasn't normal quiet—it was the kind that pressed in on your ears and made you want to make noise, just to be sure you still existed.

The light flicked across the walls. Old stone, worn carvings, a cracked tile floor.

Then his foot landed on something that wasn't stone. It gave a crunch.

He froze.

"Please be a dead rat," he whispered. "Please be a rat and not a cursed bone flute or someone else's foot."

He slowly angled the phone down—and found an old, dusty skull, split clean down the middle.

"…Yeah okay, that's worse."

And then—just faintly—he thought he heard footsteps echoing his own. Just one extra step.

Kade paused mid-step.

Tap… tap…

The sound echoed faintly, just ahead—but it wasn't him. He hadn't moved.

He held his breath. The phone's flashlight flickered, casting uneven light along the narrow walls. Shadows twitched like they were waiting.

Then he heard it again.

Tap. Drag. Tap.

"…That's not me," he whispered.

The sound was coming from below. Slow. Deliberate. Like someone—or something—was trying not to be heard, but didn't care enough to really try.

He considered turning around.

He considered screaming.

Instead, he stood there, pajama-clad and frozen, his wireless mouse still clutched like it might click the enemy away.

"Okay," he said, voice hoarse. "I officially hate this dungeon."

Another footstep. Louder.

Kade flicked off the flashlight. His world went dark.

He crouched low, chest tight, heart hammering somewhere in his throat. A faint shape moved down the hall ahead—too tall, too thin, and wrong in a way he couldn't explain.

Then, the thing sniffed the air.

And moved faster.

Kade froze.

That wasn't the wind.

That was a sniff.

A very wet, deliberate sniff.

His phone light trembled in his hand as he slowly turned it forward—and caught a glimpse.

Something pale and twisted lurched into view, hunched over with bones showing through rotting skin. Its jaw hung crooked, its eyes pale and empty but locked on him.

There was a beat of silence.

Then Kade screamed.

"NOPE! NOPE NOPE NOPE! I DID NOT SIGN UP FOR THE ZOMBIE DLC!"

He turned and bolted, slippers slapping against stone.

Behind him, the ghoul let out a low, rasping snarl—and gave chase.

"I'm just a guy in pajamas! I don't even have a weapon! Or socks!" Kade shouted, dodging a fallen structure, nearly slipping on loose tiles.

His phone light swung wildly, throwing shadows on the walls, revealing more broken corridors and ancient carvings he had absolutely no time to admire.

The ghoul was gaining.

Kade didn't think—he just ran.

His slippers slapped against the cracked stone floor like panicked applause, echoing down the hall. The flashlight beam from his phone bobbed wildly, illuminating half-collapsed walls, broken pottery, and very unhelpful debris.

Behind him, something gurgled. Then came the sound of feet—wet, heavy, fast.

"Okay! Okay! Nope! Cancel! Back button! Escape key!" Kade wheezed, already regretting every decision he'd ever made involving stairs.

He glanced over his shoulder—and saw it.

Pale, bony limbs. Rotted skin clinging like wet tissue. Its face was a stretched parody of human features, hollow-eyed and sniffing the air like a dog who lost its glasses. The ghoul let out a dry, scratchy hiss and gained on him.

Kade screamed.

"WHY is there no stamina bar?! Where's my HUD?! I have zero cardio build—this is false advertising!"

His legs burned. His lungs screamed. His phone battery? 51%. Completely unhelpful.

He yanked open a half-broken door and dove inside without thinking. The room was empty—except for a collapsed pillar in the middle and way too many shadows.

He pressed himself against the far wall, panting hard, trying to quiet the sound of his own breathing.

"…This better be one of those tutorial chases," he muttered, staring at the door.

Thump.

Thump.

The ghoul's steps stopped just outside.

Kade held his breath.

The door creaked.

He silently prayed for plot armor.

Thump.

Thump.

The ghoul's feet dragged just outside the doorway.

Kade was frozen in place, one hand clutched over his mouth, the other still gripping his phone like a holy relic. The light flickered slightly—50% battery.

The door groaned. Then—a hand.

Pale, thin fingers curled around the edge of the wooden door, slowly pushing it open. The ghoul peeked in, hollow sockets glowing faintly with a sickly green light.

Kade whispered, "Please be allergic to dumb decisions."

The ghoul stepped forward.

Kade did the only thing he could think of.

He threw his wireless mouse at its face.

It bounced off with a sad little clack. The ghoul didn't even flinch.

"Oh, cool. Damage output: emotional."

The thing lunged.

Kade screamed.

The ghoul didn't tackle him—it stabbed. A jagged, rusted sword punched through his gut with a wet crunch, metal grinding bone as it pinned him to the wall.

He gasped. Air left his lungs in a sharp wheeze. He stared down, unbelieving, at the blade jutting through his stomach.

"Ah—hah… that's... not regulation…"

Blood stained his pajama top. The phone slipped from his hand and clattered to the floor, screen dimming.

His legs gave out. But the sword held him upright like a grotesque display. He couldn't even scream anymore—just tiny, choked coughs of pain.

Then the ghoul leaned in.

It didn't speak. It sniffed, long and slow. And then—like biting into a ripe fruit—it began to feast. Teeth tore into his shoulder. Skin peeled. The last thing he saw through fading vision was its rotting face gnawing close to his ear.

Then—darkness.

Not the nothingness of death.

A waiting room kind of dark.

Static crackled softly.

Then three glowing words appeared in front of him, suspended in the void like a haunting pause screen:

> Game Over

> Try Again

> Select Saved File

Kade blinked. His breath came in ragged little hiccups. He wasn't in pain anymore—but his heart raced like he still was.

"…What the actual hell?"

He stared at the words floating in the darkness, hovering with a faint purple glow.

His hand twitched—he could move.

A cursor blinked near Select Saved File.

"…This isn't VR."