Waking up in an unknown and unfamiliar environment, the young man's lungs burned with a stabbing chill, each breath a shard of ice slicing through his chest. He shivered, sprawled on a damp, almost slick floor that reeked of earth and decay. His fingers twitched, clawing at the ground, but all he felt was stone or perhaps was it rock, cold as death, biting into his skin. Where the hell was he? He wondered. His eyes fluttered open, catching faint slivers of light through a canopy of gnarled branches above. A forest? It didn't make any sense at all to him how it could be possible, certainly he was dreaming, right? The office couch wasn't this uncomfortable after all. His heart raced, mind scrambling for answers, but at that moment in face of all that, all he could think was 'What the actual fuck happened?'
…
Three days ago, life was normal for Keane, boring, even. After waking up early and preparing for work as he normal does, he stepped out of his cramped apartment, the morning air crisp against his casual hoodie and jeans. At twenty-six, he carried himself with a quiet confidence, not too excited, not too down, just… steady, a deep nonchalant kind of person he appeared to be. He hit the bus stop right as the 7:15 roared up, sliding into an empty seat with a practiced ease, noticing as some of the passengers glance twice at him.
Keane was tall, lean, with sharp green eyes and a jawline that got him second looks, especially from the opposite sex. He wasn't vain, but he knew his charm worked when he needed it to, and in his line of work, charm was a survival skill… at least he used to hope so.
The bus rattled through the city, slowly leaving behind the more modest environment into more domineering lands, as skyscrapers loomed everywhere side by side like steel giants. Keane disembarked at his stop, weaving through morning crowds with a certain experience. A few turns later, he was standing before the gleaming tower of what appeared to be a tech related company building, NexTech Studios, its glass facade reflecting the dawn. Another day, another grind. He rode the elevator to the 17th floor, the hum of fluorescent lights greeting him as the doors slid open.
Almost as soon as he got off the elevator, a voice out of nowhere got to him. "Yo, Keane, you look like you slept in a dumpster," called Mira, his team's lead designer, her voice cutting through the office buzz. She leaned against a cubicle, coffee in hand, her dark hair a mess from her own overtime stint.
"And I somehow manage to look better than someone," Keane shot back, grinning as he dropped his bag at his desk.
"Tsk, showoff." Mira clicked her tongue as a few others laughed over the lighthearted jab from both, certainly, Keane won this bout, as he almost always did.
The open-plan office was a warzone of energy drinks, crumpled notes, and monitors glowing with unending work. Keane's team of five programmers, three designers, and a perpetually stressed project manager, huddled around a whiteboard, already bickering.
"Alright, people, focus," said Raj, the manager, rubbing his temples. "The -Eternal Realms- demo is due in a few days, and we're behind… Again." Raj spoke, his tone filled with tiredness, frustration, and whatever else every other person was feeling simultaneously.
Keane sank into his chair, cracking his knuckles. As one of NexTech's top programmers, he was the guy who made game's systems tick. "Eternal Realms" was their latest, a fantasy RPG with a world so immersive it felt alive. But the deadline was a guillotine, and the team was drowning. "We're coding a masterpiece in two weeks?" Keane muttered. "Might as well ask for a dragon to QA test it."
"Tell me about it," groaned Sam, a junior, slumping beside him. "They can't just dump an unfinished project for such a small team… I haven't seen my bed in days."
"Bed's overrated," Keane said, already pulling up his IDE. "Let's just not fuck this up."
"Heh… It's not even subtle anymore, that damn woman wants our heads. What did we even do to deserve this kind of sabotage?" Sam slumped himself on his working desk, pushing his keyboard a bit.
"Hey, better don't go around saying that before someone hears you." Keane said with a faint smile at the younger colleague.
The day went by fast under work, and soon it was lunch.
Lunch was a blur greasy takeout scarfed in the break room, the team griping about crunch time. "If I see one more bug in the skill system, I'm burning this place down," Mira said, stabbing her noodles.
"Save the arson for after the demo," Keane replied, smirking. His calm hid the pressure, as though it was none existent. He himself was buried under bugs and balance issues that seemed unending. "Not to mention, what business do you have with bugs?" He asked in a teasing manner, after all, Mira wasn't a programmer.
"Shut your mouth, don't pretend it doesn't affect me too…" She complained. Their back and forth, be it bickering or unrealistic conversations, was always a source of laughter for the team.
Dinner came too fast also, pizza boxes piling up as the day came to a close. Most of the team stayed late, Keane included. By midnight, the office was a ghost town except for him, Sam, and Mira, hunched over their screens. Keane's eyes burned, but he pushed through, fixing a glitch in the mana regen code.
"I might need one of those anti-blue light glasses Mira keeps bringing up." He said to himself as he stretched his back. At 2 a.m., he crashed on a couch in the break room, promising himself a quick nap.
The next day was a repeat. He splashed water on his face in the office bathroom, the mirror showing bags under his eyes but that same sharp jawline. "Looking like a zombie, champ," he muttered to himself, then got back to work. The team was fraying, Raj snapped at Sam for a typo, Mira cursed the art assets, and the frustration was building all round, but Keane stayed cool, knocking out tasks like a machine. He was the guy who got shit done, even if it meant carrying the team.
Day three was worse. The demo review loomed, and Keane was drowning in code. A bug in the skill tree logic had players maxing stats too fast, and he was the only one who could fix it. By 4 a.m., his fingers ached, his coffee was cold, and the office felt like a prison. "One more hour," he told himself, tweaking variables. At 5 a.m., he finally cracked it, the system coming together perfectly. He groaned, exhaustion gripping him tightly. "This game's gonna be the end of me."
Finally done, he curled up on the couch again, setting his phone alarm for 7:40 a.m. A two-hour nap would have to do… Then darkness took him.
…
Back in the present, Keane bolted upright, his breath fogging in the frigid air. His hoodie and jeans were gone, replaced by a rough tunic and leather pants that clung to his frame. His body felt… different… Stronger, even taller. He flexed his hands, muscles rippling under skin that wasn't quite his. "Okay, this is weird," he muttered, his voice sharper than he remembered, clearer, and a little deeper.
Just then, while he tried to grasp the situation and simultaneously fighting the cold, a faint glow pulsed in his vision, like a heads-up display. Words floated, crisp and clear before his eyes, drawing plain disbelief on to his face…
[Welcome Player… System Booting…]
"You've got to be kidding me."