1. Game Over... Or Not

Date: July 17, 2025

Let me get this out of the way—my name's Jessic Lim.

I'm sixteen, from Singapore, and yes,

I'm that "good student" type.

The kind who brings extra pens to class,

hands in homework on time, and doesn't start drama.

Teachers love me. Parents trust me.

Bored?

—Maybe.

But here's what nobody knows: I'm not built for school. I'm built for games.

Especially the kind that chew you up and spit you out.

Twisted dungeons, cruel puzzles,

bosses so brutal they make full-grown streamers rage-quit on camera?

That's my playground.

That's where I come alive

—not some classroom with bubble-sheet tests.

This week was my escape.

Summer break, seven days long.

And I spent every second in Backrift

—the hell-difficulty game with no walkthroughs,

no cheats, and no second chances.

They say no one's ever beaten it.

They say the final boss deletes your character file for good.

Guess what?

I beat it.

At 3:07 a.m. this morning.

No sleep. No snacks left.

Just me, my keyboard, and the biggest win of my life.

I even screamed a little—okay, a lot.

And then the screen went black.

Not "game over" black.

Not crash-black.

I mean gone.

As if the monitor itself just stopped existing.

A high-pitched beep sliced through my headphones, sharp and rising.

My head throbbed, my vision twisted, and then—

Gravity disappeared.

I wasn't sitting anymore.

I wasn't even in my room.

The world pulled away like a drain.

I fell into nothing.

My stomach flipped inside out.

And then—

Boom.

Grass.

Cold, damp grass under my palms.

Smoke in my lungs. Ash in the wind.

The sky overhead was shattered

—veins of yellow lightning crawling across dark,

cracked clouds like someone had tried to rip the sky in half.

This wasn't a dream.

This wasn't virtual.

This was real.

I scrambled up, coughing. My hands shook.

A scream rang out in the distance—raw and human—and I turned just in time to see a creature I couldn't even name tear through a burning house.

Everything smelled like metal and fear.

Then came the voice.

"You finally woke up," it said, cool and distant.

I spun around.

A boy stood behind me. Silver hair. Green eyes so bright they looked unnatural.

He was my age—maybe.

But something about him felt older, like he'd been through more wars than he could count.

He held a sword. Black metal, glowing faintly. Blood crusted the edge.

I backed away, breath caught in my throat.

"Who—where—what is this place?!" I stammered.

He didn't blink. "You crossed the rift."

The rift?

The word hit like a lightning bolt.

Backrift.

No. No way.

"This isn't the game," I whispered. But even I didn't believe it.

I looked around again. The monster screams. The broken sky. The burned-out houses.

It was the game. Or something worse.

The boy turned, sword raised toward the smoke-filled village.

"If you want to survive," he said, "stay close. And don't die."

I stared after him, heart pounding.

That was the moment I knew—

I hadn't just beaten the game.

I'd entered it.

I kept asking myself the same thing as I ran: Was I really pulled into the game?

The smoke stung my lungs.

The sky above looked like golden dusk smeared with charcoal, and yet... none of this felt real.

I had just spent my entire school break playing Backrift for seven days straight.

I knew every scene, every glitch. But now? This wasn't just game graphics.

This was a real world—one without a pause button.

"Stay calm, Jessic," I told myself. "Stick with the silver-haired boy. If I survive, maybe I'll understand everything."

I tried speaking. "My name's Jessic. What is your name?"

He didn't reply. He just kept moving—quick, sharp, fluid, like someone running a well-practiced tactic.

I followed, dodging past shattered wagons, scorched wood planks, and fallen beams.

And then—

The ground shook.

The monster appeared.

It exploded out of the ground like a giant armored worm, thick-bodied, its mouth spinning with saw-like teeth.

It looked like something straight out of a nightmare.

"Down!"

The silver-haired boy's voice cut through the chaos like an alarm.

I dropped instantly, heart hammering in my chest.

"One Style."

He whispered it like a code.

His black sword sliced the air, leaving a streak of light behind.

It felt like the wind itself had been slashed.

In the next second, the creature collapsed, shivered

—then crumbled into ash and blew away.

"Don't freeze. Move!" he snapped.

I jumped up, legs still trembling.

Okay.

This wasn't a game. Not anymore.

We'd made it to the edge of the village. Just a few more steps and we'd be out of danger.

"We're almost at the safe zone," he said, glancing back at me.

But—

I wasn't behind him anymore.

He looked around and spotted me

—I was walking out of a half-collapsed house, a little girl clinging to my back.

She looked four, maybe five, barefoot, trembling, her face streaked with tears.

"You're safe now. I'll protect you," I whispered softly, offering her a smile.

The silver-haired boy suddenly shouted, "Jessic!"

The second threat…They are coming....

For a second, I really thought that was it.

This thing was way bigger than the last one—almost the size of a house.

Its cracked, mossy green scales looked like they'd been baked in a volcano,

and its limbs were pure muscle.

Sharp claws gleamed like metal hooks under the broken sunlight. But the worst part?

Its blood-red eyes. Locked right onto me, glowing like rage on fire.

And the way it flicked its tongue...

I swear it was thinking about appetisers.

The silver-haired boy cursed under his breath.

"Crap… that's a Level-B mutated Lizardman. Nearly level-A."

He barely finished his sentence when the creature roared and lunged.

I couldn't even move.

The monster opened its disgusting, spiked mouth and swiped its claws straight down toward my face.

All I could think was:

"Sibeh jialat."

Which is Singaporean slang for "this is really, really bad."

Because yeah,

I'd been in this world for maybe five minutes and was already about to be monster sashimi.

Then—click click click.

Not real clicks. Like… keyboard typing. In my head.

[Critical attack detected.]

[System panel activating.]

[Beginner protection triggered: Damage nullified + Auto-counter activated.]

[Uses remaining: 9]

Suddenly, a faint blue shield shimmered around me.

The Lizardman's claw slammed against it—BAM—and it bounced back like it'd hit a wall.

It looked confused. Honestly, same.

Then it froze.

And that's when the wind blades came.

Dozens—maybe hundreds—of invisible slices cut across its body from all directions. Fast, clean, brutal. It didn't even scream. It just dropped, twitching, then dissolved into a slow swirl of black mist.

And just like that... silence.

Except for the soft crying of the little girl still clinging to my back.

The silver-haired boy rushed up to me, eyes wide. "You… You can cast magic?"

"Dude, I just got here," I muttered. "Pretty sure that was not me."

He stared at me a second longer, then shook his head. "Whatever. Let's move. Now."

We ran.

Didn't stop until we made it to a cave just outside the ruins. Only then did we finally sit down and breathe.

That's when the "click click click" came back.

[System connected successfully.]

[Hello, Master~ I'm your personal support AI—]

[Little System! ]

[Welcome to Backrift!]

"…What the heck are you?"

[Not a bug]

[Not a hack]

[100% clean]

[legal!]

[Your trusted companion!]

I squinted at the air. "You sure you're not malware?"

[Zero viruses. Pinky swear.]

Okay. So either I was hallucinating or—

No. If this was a dream, I wouldn't still be this sweaty.

I nearly died five minutes in.

This world? Not playing around.....