"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! mRYUz WITH THE GODLIKE REFLEXES—HE DODGES THE STUN! THE CROWD IS ON THEIR FEET!"
Dexter's grip tightened around his phone as he paced the factory aisle, eyes locked on the screen. The game's announcer roared through his cracked speakers.
"THE QUEEN UNLEASHES ANOTHER DEADLY WAVE—CAN HE SURVIVE?! OHHHH! IMMUNITY ACTIVATED! THREE HEROES FALL!"
His thumb twitched over the controls, muscle memory kicking in even though he wasn't the one playing. Not anymore.
"IT'S DOWN TO ARCHMAGUS VS TWO—TWO LEFT STANDING!"
A grin tugged at his lips.
"THE MAGUS INFINITE COMBO IS LOCKED IN! SPIRALING, UNSTOPPABLE!"
The factory lights buzzed overhead, but Dexter barely noticed. His world had narrowed to the tiny screen, to the clash of pixelated heroes.
"WHO CAN CHALLENGE THIS DEMON OF THE ARCANE?! HE'S TURNING TAIL—HE'S RUNNING! BUT TOO LATE! TOO LATE!"
His breath hitched.
"KABOOOOOM!"
The explosion lit up the display—
Drrt—
Drrt—
—And then his screen glitched before a bank notification slid down, cold and clinical.
The crowd's chants died in Dexter's ears. The factory's stale air rushed back in.
"Reality always wins."
He sighed as he looked at the remaining balance in his bank account—his savings nearly gone. He hid his phone in his pocket, then continued to walk.
"I really should've focused on my studies when I was young."
With his meager salary as a factory worker, he couldn't afford any of the luxuries he'd once enjoyed when his parents were still alive.
"At least I can still afford some cigarettes."
Stepping out of the factory, he trudged along the sidewalk, kicking pebbles despondently.
Gazing up at the night sky, he thought:
'A zombie apocalypse might be my only chance to survive. At least money wouldn't matter then, right? Then again, maybe I'd turn into a zombie first. Well, at least I could eat anyone if I got hungry.'
Entering the convenience store, Dexter grabbed a can of beer and some cheap snacks from the fridge. He browsed the aisles for anything else useful and affordable before heading to the counter.
"Hey... where's Fred?"
The clerk stared at him apathetically.
"He's on leave."
"Oh, that's a surprise. I thought the guy never got tired."
'Now I can't put the cigarettes on credit... Oh well.'
He pointed to the cigarette rack behind the clerk.
"That one—no, give me the Reds."
After handing him the pack, the clerk studied Dexter with sudden curiosity.
"Aren't you Dexter Crawford?"
"Yeah, why?"
'Fuck it, Fred—did you tell this guy about my unpaid tab?'
"Weren't you the guy who made that huge comeback in TW... hmm, 10—no—15 years ago?"
'Oh. Not the debt... Sorry, Fred, I cursed you for nothing.'
"Yeah, that's me. What about it?"
The clerk's eyes lit up like diamonds.
"I'll never forget those insane combos you pulled off with 'Archmagus'! Why'd you quit?" he asked eagerly.
"The game's different now—way more complex than before." Dexter glanced at his left hand; the tremors were faint but unmistakable if you looked closely.
"And I'm too old for gaming anyway."
The clerk gave him a sad smile, bagged the items, and slid them across the counter.
"Kinda tragic for a legend who set the standard. But hey—these are on me. A gift for my idol." He paused, grinning.
"Though... can I get a selfie with 'mRYUz'?"
The free beer and cigarettes tugged a smirk from Dexter. The clerk assumed it was the nostalgia of hearing his old username.
"Sure, no problem..."
After saying goodbye to the salesclerk, Dexter went to the park a mile away from his house.
He sat on the bench, drinking beer, smoking, and munching on the snack he had bought.
Gazing at the sky, he could still remember it—the roar of the crowd chanting his IGN. He had been a legend, but you're only called a legend once you're gone.
He smiled deprecatingly, looking at his shaking hands—hands that trembled from the trauma of finding his parents dead in the hospital after the car crash.
After taking a drag from his cigarette, he muttered to himself:
"I'm afraid to die..."
Finishing his beer, he lit another cigarette and inhaled deeply before exhaling a thick cloud of smoke.
'Yeah... the nicotine...'
He walked unsteadily, the alcohol in his veins making him groggy.
His eyes were nearly slits, yet somehow, he could still see where he was going.
"I really love this... being drunk, having a smoke... At least this way, I know I'm alive."
But as he approached the crosswalk, he only noticed a barricade standing on the other side of the road—not the dancing glitchy "Walk" sign.
Beep— Beep—
Then he saw it—the light, blinding like the sun.
'WTF... Am I really gonna die here to Truck-kun?'
Suddenly, his innate talent—the reflexes that made him faster than any gamer—kicked in. His muscles tensed, his breathing turned shallow, though the alcohol still clouded his system.
'Not today, Truck-kun.'
In an instant, he dropped low—
His legs bent—
Then, with a burst of adrenaline, he leaped!
He lunged like a wildcat toward the other side of the road.
The wind rushed past his face like a storm; his feet nearly grazed the truck's bumper. He hit the ground hard, rolling painfully before finally coming to a stop.
The pain reassured him—he was still alive.
He had survived Truck-kun, but not the driver's furious curses.
"FUCK YOU TOO!" Dexter shouted, nearly exhausting his lungs.
As he got up, brushing dirt off his clothes, he walked beside the open manhole lid, not noticing it.
Then suddenly a cat darted out of nowhere, startling him into sidestepping.
"Oh shi—"
And that was the biggest mistake of his life.
…
…
...
Dexter opened his eyes with difficulty, scanning his surroundings only to see nothing but darkness.
It was pitch black, as if light couldn't penetrate the abyss.
'Am I dead? Did I get Isekai'd'
Then he heard it—the soft drip of water. His body was soaked, and when he took a deep breath—
—He immediately pinched his nose shut, recoiling from the stench.
Gritting his teeth, he breathed through his mouth and looked up, spotting a dim light filtering through a small hole above.
...
"Out of all the manholes in the world, I had to pick the VIP of crap... What kind of bullshit is this..."
Grumbling, Dexter trudged forward, his clothes drenched in filth.
"Oh Yeah? From 'Archmagus' to a 'Sewage Rat Mob'... Why am I so goddamn unlucky? I thought free cigarettes and beer were a blessing—turns out it was karma. Should've paid for it... Never taking anything free again."
With a shudder, he fished the key from his shit-soaked pocket, every movement sending disgust crawling down his spine.
Finally home, he tiptoed across the clean floor and bolted straight for the bathroom, scrubbing himself raw with soap. Yet, the stench clung to him—burrowed deep in his nostrils like a curse.
He stuffed his ruined clothes into a garbage bag and hurled it outside, then frantically cleaned his house. But no matter how much he scrubbed, the foul odor lingered.
"Damn it... How the hell am I supposed to sleep like this?"
Defeated, he slumped into his gaming chair, eyeing his bed with longing before giving up. Instead, he booted up his PC and launched his favorite offline game—Eldor Ring, complete with DLC.
Slaying mobs to pass the time, he waited for his nose to adjust to the putrid stench—worse than rotten eggs.
"Tsk... even my PC is old now! Why does it keep on glitching?"
Eventually, exhaustion overtook him, and he dozed off mid-game.
...
...
...
[Initiating Multiverse Convergence...]