January 1, 2026 — 4:00 AM
The world outside was frozen. The only signs of life in the predawn chill were the distant, rhythmic strobes of blue and red lights accompanied by the lonely, haunting wail of an ambulance.
Inside Apartment 4B, the atmosphere was thick with the scent of stale Nacho Cheese dust and unwashed laundry. The frantic, metallic clack-clack-clack of a mechanical keyboard was the only heartrate the room possessed.
Gilbert sat hunched in his "Heavy Duty" gaming chair, his silhouette dominating the small, cluttered desk. His breathing was heavy, a wet wheeze that misted slightly in the cold air. His skin was pale and oily, reflecting the harsh blue light of the monitor, and a patchy, unkempt beard clung to his neck. He paused for a split second to gurgle a lukewarm Monster Energy, washing down the salty grit of a handful of Hot Doritos. He left orange, greasy smudges on his $150 mouse. He needed the fuel. He needed the frame-perfect timing.
The chat box on the side of his screen was a warzone.
xXThunderCkXx: "Where the hell is my healing!?"
BunnyYummi: "Dude. You are pushing too far, can you back up?!"
xXThunderCkXx: "Hello! Heal me!"
xXThunderCkXx: "Heal!"
xXThunderCkXx: "Heal!"
xXThunderCkXx: "HEAL!"
PDrizzly: "I'm about to ult."
CmNGo: "Ulting!"
xXThunderCkXx: "Why did you double Ult!?"
BunnyYummi: "Why did you double Ult!?"
Pdrizzly: "Why did you double Ult!?"
CmNGo: "Why did you double Ult!?"
DicclePickle: "I'm pushing top, keep them busy."
The screen faded to a dark, mocking grey.
DEFEAT.
Six losses in a row. Gilbert slammed his fleshy palm against the desk, making his empty cans rattle. Frustration bubbled in his chest, a toxic mix of caffeine and entitlement. He adjusted his glasses, which were sliding down his oily nose, and wiped his hands on his 3XL t-shirt—a faded black garment featuring a cat-eared girl and the words: DON'T TALK TO ME, I'M LEVELING UP.
He needed to vent. He needed a "cleanse."
He opened a private browser, navigating to a site that would make a librarian faint. After nearly an hour of searching, he finally found a manga with the exact "proportions" he required.
"NTR really is where all the good stuff is," Gilbert muttered, his voice raspy.
He stood up just enough to slide his sweatpants down to his ankles, settling back into the mesh of the chair and reaching for a bottle of lotion.
Then, the world blinked.
The smell of stale snacks vanished, replaced by the scent of ozone and sterile air. Gilbert wasn't in his room anymore. He was standing in a vast, white hall filled with hundreds of people.
To make the situation worse, his pants were still gathered around his ankles. His pale, doughy legs were exposed to the clinical light of the "system."
"EEEEEEK!" a woman nearby shrieked.
"Oh god, what is that?!" a man yelled, pointing with a look of pure loathing.
Panic surged through him. Gilbert frantically reached down to pull his pants up, but his feet caught in the elastic. He overbalanced, his heavy frame tilting forward like a falling boulder.
THUD.
He planted face-first onto the cold, hard floor. His pants were still down, his dignity was non-existent, and his weight made it nearly impossible to scramble back up quickly. He floundered like a beached whale, his face burning a bright, shameful crimson.
By the time he finally managed to yank his clothes into place and stand up, the crowd had moved. They had formed a wide, empty circle around him—a literal "Circle of Shame."
Suddenly, the walls flickered and transformed into a singular, massive screen. A female announcer appeared, wearing a smile that was far too bright.
"Hello, Earth!"
"I'm standing here today to showcase the beginning of a new season of 'Planet Fittest'!"
"The planet chosen for this new season will partake in a survival game where randomly selected participants will do their best to entertain the viewers from all over the cosmos."
"If they fail to win and entertain, then their planet will be eliminated."
"Now, get ready to be transferred to your new home!"
The room erupted into screams and sobbing. Gilbert's mind raced, but it didn't go to his family.
"Oh shit," Gilbert whispered. "I haven't finished reading Bleach yet."
"Plus, a new season of JJK was about to start soon!"
"Send me back!" he yelled at the screen, waving a fleshy arm.
The announcer only smiled wider.
"3..." "2..." "1..."
The crowd vanished.
Gilbert was alone in a windowless stone room. Sparse furniture: a cot, a table, a chair, and five wooden boxes.
He moved to the boxes, his breath coming in heavy, shallow hitches. He pried the lid off the first one. Bottled water and sealed rations.
"I'm going to die. I'm actually going to die before I see the ending of One Piece," Gilbert muttered.
A sudden, heavy thud against the metal door made Gilbert jump. He froze.
"Who's there?!"
Silence.
He waited for three minutes, sweating profusely, before he finally cracked the door open. The hallway outside looked exactly like his apartment complex—but it was too clean. Too quiet.
He stepped out, his thighs chafing, and looked out a window.
The world outside was a perfect replica of his city. The streets, the buildings, the parked cars—everything was there. But there was no life. No birds, no wind, no people. A ghost world.
"Hello?!" Gilbert screamed. "Is this a prank?!"
"I'm giving away a thousand dollars to anyone who responds!"
Silence.
"Scam," Gilbert muttered, retreating into his room and locking the door. "They probably evacuated everyone and left me because I was 'too dangerous' to be moved."
He opened the small package that had been left at the door. Inside was a sleek, black smartphone. No branding, no camera. He pressed the power button. Two icons: CHAT and PROFILE.
He tapped CHAT.
[System: Would you like to display the chat messages in real-time? Yes or No.]
"Real-time? Like a Twitch stream?" Gilbert tapped Yes.
A transparent blue window flickered into existence in his field of vision.
[LIVE FEED: UTAH SECTOR CHAT]
u-20329: "Wait, I know that guy. I've seen him at the Maverick on 400 South buying three Monsters at a time. We are actually, unironically, toast."
Utah_Momma_Jen: "Why is he in his underwear? Is there a way to report this feed? My children are watching their future depend on a man who clearly doesn't own a laundry machine."
Diesel_Truck_Dave: "I just flipped over to the Texas stream. They got a whole squad of ex-Marines and a guy who looks like he hunts bears for fun. Meanwhile, we get a kid who looks like he's allergic to a light jog."
SLC_Dev_92: "The UI says 'Group Utah: 1 Member.' That isn't a glitch. California has a team of 50. New York has 40. The math is not mathing. We are mathematically guaranteed to be eliminated first."
Skater_Boi_Orem: "LMAO look at the orange grease on his fingers. He's gonna fight for our lives with Dorito hands? I'm going to go jump in the Great Salt Lake before the aliens get here."
Frantic_Grammy: "Someone tell that poor boy to pull his trousers up! Is this what the 'viewers' want to see? We are all going to be 'decommissioned' because this young man doesn't wear a belt!"
Bernie_in_the_Burbs: "Is this the 'rugged individualism' the governor is always talking about? Because it looks a lot like a neckbeard in a basement. We need a recount on this representative selection immediately."
Zion_Hiker: "I'm literally at the top of Angels Landing right now and even the tourists are crying. We're watching the end of the world through the lens of a guy who hasn't seen a salad since the Obama administration."
Gilbert stared at the text, his face twisting into a mask of indignation.
He reached for a bag of rations and ripped it open with his teeth, chewing loudly.
"These normies don't know anything," he mumbled. "They're just jealous because the System recognized my 'Lone Wolf' potential. Quantity is for the weak."
He tapped the PROFILE icon.
[Hello, User. Because you are the only member to represent your given state, a 'Balance Adjustment' has been triggered.]
[You will be granted a Unique Skill.]
Gilbert's fleshy, grease-stained hands began to shake.
"Yes! This is the 'Cheat Code'!"
"I knew it! I'm going to get something broken! Something like 'Infinite Mana'!"
He leaned in, his glasses fogging up from his heavy breathing.
"Give it to me! Give me the power to make them all bow!"
The screen flashed a violent, neon violet.
[Unique Skill: Fiction Manifestation (Rank: EX)]
[Description: You may materialize entities from 'Sacred Texts' (Manga, Anime, Light Novels, comic,etc).]
[Current Summoning Slots: 1]
[Note: Loyalty is not guaranteed. Safety is not gauranteed.]
Gilbert let out a high-pitched, wheezing giggle. "Rank EX… Why would I need a weapon when I can just summon a servant to carry me?"
He didn't hesitate. He didn't even read the warning.
"Initialize first summon!" he barked, his voice cracking with a mix of adrenaline and puberty-defying greed. "Come forth! My loyal, submissive battle-maiden! Your master commands you!"
The room didn't just glow; it screamed.
A vertical rift of blinding, blue-white light tore through the center of the cramped stone room, accompanied by a sound like a cathedral's worth of glass shattering at once. The pressure in the room spiked so sharply that Gilbert's ears popped painfully. The scent of ozone was joined by something sharp and cold—the smell of mountain air and expensive starch.
From the heart of the radiance, a silhouette emerged.
The jagged white light of the summoning circle was instantly choked out by a thick, swirling mist the color of rusted iron and dried blood. A heavy, floral scent filled the cramped space—the smell of a thousand lilies blooming atop a fresh grave. It was beautiful and sickly all at once, enough to make Gilbert's eyes water.
From the heart of the crimson haze, a metallic clink-thud, clink-thud echoed against the stone floor. It was the sound of heavy, unyielding weight.
A silhouette emerged, tall and impossibly graceful. The first thing Gilbert saw was gold—but not the bright, polished gold of a fairy tale. This was dull, tarnished, and scarred. A slender arm reached out of the mist, but as the light caught it, Gilbert realized it wasn't skin. It was a prosthetic, a masterpiece of unalloyed gold and intricate clockwork, terminating in a hand that gripped a hilt with terrifying strength.
Then came the helm: a winged, eyeless crown of gold that hid the upper half of a pale, stoic face. Long, unkempt hair the color of dying embers fell over a tattered cape of rotted scarlet. She towered over him, her presence making the small room feel like a cage.
Gilbert's jaw dropped. He wasn't looking at a "submissive maiden." He was looking at a goddess of war who had clearly walked through hell to get here.
The woman adjusted the prosthetic on her right shoulder with a sharp, mechanical whir. She didn't look at the room first; she looked at the orange grease smudge Gilbert had left on the table near her feet. Her head tilted slightly, the eyeless helm directed toward the "Don't Talk to Me" slogan on his chest.
The air in the room grew cold, vibrating with a quiet, mounting pressure.
"I dreamt for so long," she murmured, her voice a soft, low cadence that carried the weight of centuries. "But this... this is a nightmare I did not foresee."
She looked at the stained bed, then at the pile of empty Monster cans, and finally at the trembling, sweaty man-child sitting on the floor with his pants still partially twisted. A faint, low sound escaped her—a sigh of genuine, weary disappointment.
"Who are you?" she asked, her voice sharpening like a whetted blade. "And by what hollow authority have you summoned the Blade of Miquella to this den of filth?"
In the floating chat window, the text moved so fast it was almost unreadable.
[LIVE FEED: UTAH SECTOR CHAT]
u-9921: "NO. NO WAY. ANYONE BUT HER."
UtahMom_88: "Who is this woman? Why is she dressed like that? And why is that boy's room so filthy? This is a disgrace."
SLC_Skater_Kid: "Yo, is that a real golden arm? That tech is insane. Is this a movie?"
GamerGod_69: "YOU IDIOTS, THAT'S MALENIA. SHE HAS WATERFOWL DANCE. WE ACTUALLY HAVE A CHANCE!"
u-1255: "Is that the prosthetic? The red hair? Oh my god."
Provo_Husband: "I don't care who she is, tell her to put some clothes on and get that boy to a gym. My taxes are paying for this survival game?!"
u-8329: "Utah is actually saved? Wait, no—Gilbert is going to be the first person she kills."
RealEstate_Deb: "Does anyone know where this apartment is? The property value in that neighborhood is going to plummet if this is what the 'representatives' look like."
u-1234: "HE SUMMONED MALENIA?! BRO, HE CAN'T EVEN BEAT A SILVER-RANK LOBBY!"
LDS_TruthSeeker: "Is this a sign of the end? She looks like an angel of destruction. Lord help us if that gamer is our only hope."
u-2022: "Look at her sword... it's longer than the room. Gilbert, if you move, you're a kebab."
Mildred_J: "I can't see the text very well, but that young man needs a haircut and a salad. Who is the lady with the wings on her head?"
u-0042: "I am Malenia, Blade of Miquella... and I have never known defeat. Until I met my summoner, apparently."
SaltLake_Savage: "F's in the chat for Gilbert. He's about to get 'Let Me Solo Her'd' by his own summon."
Worried_Dad_4: "My kids are watching this! Can we turn off the feed?"