The most popular MMORPG of the moment:
«Eternal Hearts».
A simulation game based on a fantasy novel with the same name that, since its release on PC more than eleven years ago, became a worldwide phenomenon.
Its fame was such that, even today, people of all ages have tried it at least once.
And, curiously, the general opinion is the same:
"What a damn madness…"
What was supposed to be an ordinary dating simulator ended up trapping a bunch of idiots like me too. Why? Because besides its impeccable visual aesthetic and absurdly intense P.V.P. scenarios, the game hid mechanics that seemed taken straight out of a hardcore RPG: cruel progression systems, irreversible decisions, hidden events that punished the slightest mistake.
The plot, in theory, was simple.
The world was invaded by external creatures. Humanity, on the brink of extinction, awakened special abilities and managed to stop the invasion…
But that was only the beginning.
In preparation for a coming catastrophe, the Imperial Academy Arsidius was founded, meant to train the new generation of heroes… sounds incredible, right?
Well, no.
It was hell.
Impossible dungeons.
Ridiculously unbalanced enemies.
Tragic endings triggered by NPCs without conscience.
And no matter what you did…
No matter how hard you tried…
The world always, always, always ended in damn ruin.
I laughed. It was a short, hollow sound. Because now it wasn't funny.
Now… that damn game was my reality.
But to understand how this happened, we have to go back.
***
[2 hours earlier — Leving Entertainment headquarters]
The floor lights were still on even though it was ridiculously late.
The coffee machine had been slowly dying for hours, just like us.
On the screen in front of me, lines and lines of code scrolled endlessly.
The company's greatest success: "Eternal Heart" shone before my eyes as I polished the final details.
Six months.
Six. Damn. Months. Fixing the last patch.
"Hey, Lucy! Are you done yet?" Nick shouted from his desk, without even bothering to look at me.
I clenched my teeth.
"Bastard. I've told you about five hundred times not to call me that."
"Why? It's short. It's cute. It suits you."
"My name is Lucen. Lucen. It has two syllables. It's not that hard."
"Relax, Lucy."
I slowly turned my chair until I was facing him.
"I swear if you say it again, I'll disconnect the servers and announce it was your fault."
There was silence.
"…You wouldn't dare."
"Try me and you'll see."
Nick raised his hands as if surrendering.
"Alright, alright, Mr. Sensitive," Nick muttered, turning back to his monitor.
I let out a snort and turned back to the screen while he muttered something unintelligible.
The truth was that we were both exhausted.
We had spent more than six months fixing bugs, optimizing events, and patching exploits for this last update.
We slept at the office.
We ate junk.
We lived for the game.
And now only one step was left to finish it…
My fingers moved quickly over the keyboard, but when I pressed Enter, the cursor didn't jump to the next line. It stayed there, static. Blinking slowly.
[Error code034… Critical System Failure]
"What the hell…?" I frowned.
The text on the screen began to vibrate. It wasn't deleting itself; it was reorganizing.
The system was frozen, but the code kept moving. The lines and scripts intertwined with each other, forming impossible patterns, structures I didn't recognize… that I had never written.
The glow of the monitor soon changed.
It went from pale white to a deep crimson that flooded the room, staining the walls red.
"Nick!" I called.
My voice sounded strange, distant, as if I were underwater.
"Nick, something's wrong with the server. Disconnect the power!" I shouted.
There was no response. I glanced to the side; Nick wasn't moving. He wasn't blinking or breathing. He was completely frozen in place.
"Nick…?" I called again, but the word got stuck in my throat.
A sheet of paper that had fallen from his desk remained suspended in the air, motionless, as if someone had paused the scene. Even the ceiling fan was stopped halfway through a turn, frozen in an impossible instant.
Then I understood.
Time had stopped.
An absolute silence filled the room… until suddenly, the screen flickered again.
[Syncing data… 1%… 10%… 30%… 99%…]
A chill ran down my spine.
"Wh… what is this…?" I managed to stammer, but my own voice sounded muffled.
Beep
A sharp, unnatural electronic sound pierced my ears.
[Synchronization complete]
At that moment, the world began to spin violently. I felt as if gravity had ceased to exist, while the strength left my body, drained by the crimson glow of the monitor.
I tried to hold onto the desk, but my hands wouldn't respond. My vision became blurry; pixels devoured the office walls, and the last thing I felt was the unmistakable sensation of falling…
Soon, everything turned completely black.