Falling in a video game usually isn't a big deal. You double-jump, or you deploy a glider, or you land in a convenient bale of hay.
Falling in reality hurts.
Falling in a glitching, half-deleted fantasy world that you wrote while sleep-deprived? That’s just insulting.
I hit the ground with the grace of a sack of potatoes. A cloud of dust—no, not dust, particle effects—puffed up around me. My health bar flashed an angry red, dropping from 15 to a critical 4.
[HP: 4/100]
[Status: Concussed, Bleeding, Bruised Ego]
"Ow," I groaned, rolling onto my back.
The sky above was a mess. The moon had duplicated itself, so now there were three translucent moons overlapping like a bad Photoshop layer. The castle ruins around me weren't settling; they were vibrating. A massive stone pillar to my left was hovering three inches off the ground, bobbing up and down in a gentle, rhythmic loop.
I tried to sit up, but my body screamed in protest. I checked my limbs. Still attached. My hoodie was shredded, and my jeans had a hole in the knee that wasn't a fashion statement.
"Okay," I wheezed, spitting out a mouthful of pixelated grit that tasted like copper and static. "Tactical retreat. Let’s go."
I raised a shaky hand and swiped the air. The main menu jittered into existence. It was translucent and flickering, like a hologram running on low battery.
I jabbed the button marked [World Map].
A 2D parchment map unfolded in my vision. I saw my location: The Ruins of Malagor’s Keep. I looked for the nearest safe haven. Starter Village: Oakhaven. It was miles away.
"Fast Travel," I commanded, pressing the little boot icon.
Nothing happened.
I pressed it again. Harder.
[System Error: Cannot Fast Travel while in combat.]
"I'm not in combat!" I yelled at the empty air. "The Demon King is dead! I choked him with oxygen! The combat music stopped!"
As if on cue, the music started.
But it wasn't the generic orchestral swells I’d bought from a stock audio site for five bucks. This was a violin solo. Sharp, high-pitched, and terrifyingly sad. It cut through the chaotic noise of the glitching world like a razor blade.
I froze.
From the swirling dust of the courtyard, a silhouette emerged.
Unlike the orcs, who looked like jagged clay sculptures, and unlike me, a low-res mess in a hoodie, she was... perfect. High definition. 4K resolution. I could count the individual scratches on her silver breastplate. Her cape, a deep velvet blue, billowed in a wind that didn't seem to touch anything else.
Seraphina. The Heroine. The "Chosen One."
She stepped over a pile of rubble that was currently flickering between being a rock and a wheel of cheese. Her boots crunched on the gravel with hyper-realistic audio clarity.
"Author," she said.
Her voice wasn't loud, but it hit me harder than the fall. It was the voice I had described in Chapter 1: 'Like winter bells ringing across a frozen lake.' Hearing my own metaphor used against me was surreal.
I scrambled backward, crab-walking over sharp debris. "Look, Seraphina. I know this looks bad. The castle falling down? Not my best work. But I can explain."
She stopped ten feet away. Her blue eyes were glowing with so much post-processing bloom effect that it hurt to look at them.
"You can explain?" She tilted her head. "Explain why my father had to die in the prologue?"
"Motivation!" I blurted out, my back hitting a wall. "It was the inciting incident! You needed a reason to leave the farm!"
"Explain why my sister was eaten by shadow wolves in Chapter Five."
"Character development!" I held up my hands, checking my Admin Console out of the corner of my eye. "It gave you... depth! Sorrow adds texture to the soul!"
"Texture," she repeated. The word dripped with ice. "You killed everyone I ever loved for texture."
She drew her sword.
It was Star-Caller, the legendary blade I’d given her in the mid-season finale. The steel hummed with holy energy. It was supposed to be the beacon of hope in this dark world. Right now, it looked an awful lot like a murder weapon.
[Threat Assessment: Lethal]
[Recommended Action: Run, you idiot.]
"Wait!" I shouted. "If you kill me, you kill the world! I’m the Admin! I’m the server host!"
"Then let it crash," she said.
She lunged.
ns216.73.216.10da2
and then Add to home screen.