The stale smell of burnt coffee and alcohol hung heavy in the air, clinging to the man's clothes as he leaned back on the worn-out chair. His eyes, bloodshot from lack of sleep and rest that his body carves, flicked across lines of encrypted data flashing on the screen.
It was another routine job—sifting through confidential reports, cleaning up messes for people far more powerful than himself.
Corporate espionage. Black market dealings. Silent disappearances.
He didn't ask questions. He just made problems go away.
A fixer. A middleman in a world where power flowed like blood, and he was just another cog in the machine.
His office was dimly lit, a neverending haze from all the half smoked cigarettes on the ground curling lazily into the air.
Outside, the city pulsed with life, but in here—
"Just another day," he muttered under his breath, rubbing his temples. His account had grown fat over the years, filled with offshore wealth, but what was the point? He was still a pawn.
No power. No control.
His jaw clenched as that bitter truth gnawed at him. The people he worked for would dispose of him the moment he became a liability. He knew it.
That's why he didn't trust anyone.
With a sigh, he reached for his controller, the glow of the monitor casting a faint blue hue on his face.
A distraction.
The game booted up—a world he had conquered countless times.
A world where power was earned through blood and sacrifice.
Dark Vortex: Age of Ruin.
A game which released some time ago and instantly became a hit because this game had almost real human like NPC's and also the fact that story changes by even a minute thing you have done or even if you don't do it other NPC's actions also change at random which causes almost infinite endings.
But despite all these things it was a single player game with pvp as a option.
Because of this reason this was a relly famous game which broke multiple records.
His character stood at the edge of a ruined cathedral, the fog gate looming ahead. Beyond it waited a boss he had defeated a hundred times—a god of suffering, twisted by ancient madness.
"Alright… let's finish this."
His fingers gripped the controller, ready to enter the fray.
BANG.
Pain.
A searing, white-hot agony exploded in his chest. His body stiffened. Breath caught in his throat as he looked down, his shirt rapidly turning crimson.
What…?
The controller slipped from his fingers, clattering onto the desk.
Slowly… too slowly… he turned his head.
A figure stood in the doorway.
A gun. Silencer attached.
A familiar face.
A co-worker.
Someone he had shared drinks with. Joked around with.
But now…
Why?
His mind struggled to piece it together, but the darkness was already closing in.
The pain was unbearable, but the betrayal hurt more.
A hit?
Ordered by who?
What did I do wrong?
His vision blurred. His body slumped forward.
On the screen, his character still stood—waiting at the fog gate.
Beyond that gate was a god of suffering and ruin. A being that crushed all who dared oppose it.
Just like him… a fool who never made it past the gate.
A bitter, hollow laugh barely escaped his lips before the void swallowed him whole.
[SYSTEM BOOTING…]
Pain.
Cold.
A wretched stench assaulted his nostrils—rotting flesh and burning wood.
His eyes fluttered open.
What the hell…?
Blinding light. Smoke.
The air was thick with heat and the acrid scent of death.
Screams echoed through the night—the wails of the dying, the shrieks of the desperate.
He blinked, his vision swimming into focus.
A village. Burning.
Flames devoured thatched rooftops. Men in tattered armor, their faces twisted with cruelty, rampaged through the chaos.
Looters. Raiders.
Steel flashed. Blood sprayed.
"No, please!" A woman's voice shrieked before being silenced by the cold edge of a blade.
A child cried nearby, only to be yanked away by grimy hands.
Bodies littered the ground—men, women, children—all reduced to broken, lifeless husks.
This wasn't a battle. It was a slaughter.
"Take the women and the brats!" one of the raiders barked. "Kill the rest. Leave nothing standing."
The village, once full of life, was now an inferno of death.
With only Screams and Ashes remaining at its place.
But amidst the destruction…
A child.
Tucked away in the shadows, hidden deep within a pile of rancid dung used to fertilize the fields, a frail boy huddled, his body trembling violently.
Barely fourteen.
Thin. Malnourished.
His face was streaked with dirt and blood, eyes wide with terror as the screams echoed around him.
His chest heaved with labored breaths, his body wracked with pain.
Wounds.
Gashes marred his arms and legs. Blood seeped from a deep cut along his side, staining the soil beneath him.
He was dying.
Cold. Weak.
His small hands gripped the earth, nails digging into the filth as he clung desperately to life.
But why?
Why struggle?
Everyone he knew… his family… they were gone. Slaughtered.
Yet, something deep within him refused to let go.
A spark.
Survive.
Even as death's shadow loomed over him, his body refused to surrender.
And then—
[System Binding…]
A cold, mechanical voice echoed in his mind.
[Umbral Devourer System Activated.]
A flicker of light. A sliver of power.
His body shuddered. The pain dulled.
But he was still on the brink.
Darkness threatened to claim him.
Unless…
As he hovered over the Start button, the screen flickered. Just for a second.
[Devour or be devoured.]
The words flashed at the bottom of the screen, barely visible before disappearing.
His brows furrowed. That wasn't in the game.
Weird. Maybe just a bug?
Then—
BANG
He felt his soul becoming weaker inside this new body like it was being rejected.
A choice.
A cruel one.
But in this world, mercy was a luxury.
And he had already learned what happened to pawns who hesitated.