The first thing I learned about dying is that there’s no white light. There’s just a server error message.
[CONNECTION LOST.]
I was floating in the digital void, a pixelated purgatory where the only sound was the hum of a cooling fan the size of a galaxy. I had been Level 94. A Warlord. A king of the Kowloon Server. I had enough HP to buy a skyscraper in the Upper Districts and enough mana to nuke a small country.
But none of that matters when your best friend puts a dagger made of "Admin Code" through your spine.
"Sorry, Kai," Viper had whispered, his snakeskin suit shimmering under the raid boss lights. "You’re just too expensive to keep around. The Guild needs to trim the fat."
I didn't even get to curse him out. My avatar shattered into a billion blue particles. Game Over. Delete Account.
Or so I thought.
Instead of fading into nothing, a new window popped up. It wasn't the standard blue system font. It was jagged, red, and bleeding code like a fresh wound.
[SYSTEM ERROR: SOUL REJECTED.]37Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡGlwuZI754p
[INITIATING LEGACY PROTOCOL...]37Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡuTy6HiACNg
[LOADING SAVE FILE: 10 YEARS AGO.]
[WARNING: USER HAS ACQUIRED FORBIDDEN TRAIT.]
My eyes snapped open. I wasn't in the void anymore. I was tasting mud, blood, and the sour rain of District 9. And I was absolutely starving.
ns216.73.216.10da2
and then Add to home screen.