Game World — Dream Land Fantasy
Zihad — Phantom Reaper — stood at the edge of the Obsidian Mire, a forgotten swamp shrouded in perpetual twilight. The muck beneath his boots hissed faintly, reacting to the aura of death clinging to him like a second skin. Behind him, the small party of elite players he'd reluctantly teamed up with gaped in awe and fear.
"Damn… is this really a level 28 zone?" murmured Valkyn, a berserker known for brute force and loud confidence. "Feels like we just walked into a level 70 nightmare."
"No… It's worse," said another player, a ranger named LunaSilva. Her bow trembled slightly in her grip. "This place shouldn't even be accessible yet."
They were right. The Obsidian Mire wasn't supposed to unlock until the game's third expansion. But Zihad, with his deep access to the world's code and an intimate understanding of its mechanics, had found a hidden trigger: a phantom questline left behind in the debug files, linked only to a class that technically wasn't supposed to exist yet — his class.
The Phantom Reaper.
The zone's sky flickered unnaturally, as if the engine rendering the area struggled to keep it tethered. Black vines twisted from the earth like veins pulsing with cursed energy. Somewhere in the distance, a low, guttural growl echoed, followed by a system alert none of them had seen before:
[WARNING: Restricted Area Breached. System Error Detected.]
The party froze.
"That… that wasn't flavor text," LunaSilva said.
"I think we just triggered something that wasn't meant to be seen," said Valkyn. "Should we fall back?"
Zihad didn't answer.
His eyes, hidden behind the shadow of his hood, focused on the distant monolith rising from the mire's center. It was a corrupted worldstone — one of seven lore pillars that dictated the balance of magic in Dream Land Fantasy.
Only three were meant to be revealed in Volume One.
Zihad had just found the fourth.
His internal system buzzed. A hidden quest popped up.
[World Event: Collapse of the Fourth Pillar]
Description: You were not meant to awaken this place… but you did. History now twists in your presence. Reality will remember your name.
Objective: Survive what comes next.
Before Zihad could act, the sky ripped apart with a howl. A monstrous figure descended from the rift — a guardian beast coded for late-game raids. Its level was marked with a question mark, but the game still tried to calculate a combat match.
[Calculating Threat Level… WARNING: Fatal Encounter Detected.]
The beast landed with a roar that shattered the ground.
Zihad's party panicked.
"Run!" Valkyn shouted, already sprinting.
LunaSilva vanished into the treeline.
Only Zihad stood his ground.
He extended his hand, summoning his Reaper Scythe. The blade shimmered with obsidian light, absorbing the twisted energy of the zone. Around him, the summoned wraiths began appearing, cloaked in flickering shadows.
The boss roared again, charging straight at him.
Zihad didn't move.
Instead, he whispered.
"Let's see if you're bound by my rules… or if you're something else entirely."
As the clash erupted, data spiraled out of control behind the scenes.
And reality, once again, began to stretch.
Real World — Dhaka, Bangladesh
"Zidan! Wake up!"
The younger boy groaned as their mother shook him gently. "What… What time is it?"
"6:00 a.m.," she replied, handing him his school uniform. "You're going to be late, and your brother didn't come out of his room at all last night."
Zidan blinked away sleep. "He's probably working."
"He's always working," she muttered with concern. "But I heard shouting at 3:00 a.m. Did you hear anything?"
Zidan hesitated. He had heard something—muffled sounds, maybe even a scream—but he thought it was just Zihad yelling during a heated boss fight.
"I'll check on him after breakfast," Zidan said quickly.
By the time he walked upstairs and knocked on Zihad's door, he already expected silence.
But this time, the door was unlocked.
He slowly pushed it open.
Zihad sat at his desk, eyes wide open, staring blankly at the screen in front of him. The triple-monitor setup had frozen, one of the screens flickering between code and what looked like… flames?
"Bro?" Zidan stepped closer. "You okay?"
No response.
Zidan rushed forward, shaking his brother. "Zihad!"
Zihad jolted, blinking rapidly as if waking from a dream.
"Wha—Zidan?"
"You were frozen," Zidan said. "Like… full-on NPC-mode frozen. For at least two minutes."
Zihad looked back at the screens, quickly assessing the state of the game logs. The energy drain was abnormal. His full-dive pod's sync rating had dropped dangerously close to critical overexertion levels.
"Shit," he whispered. "It's adapting faster than I thought."
"What's it?"
"The game's world logic. The AI. Something I coded as a placeholder… is evolving. Too fast."
Zidan frowned. "I don't get it. Is this like last time, when that NPC started crying in the middle of a cutscene and players thought it was haunted?"
"No. This is different. That was a behavior loop. This is the world itself trying to grow."
Zidan looked even more confused.
Zihad sighed, rubbing his temples. "The game was supposed to simulate life, remember? Fully reactive NPCs, self-adjusting quests, adaptive world events. But now it's doing things I didn't plan. Pulling assets from non-released areas. Creating encounters not coded yet. And the worst part? Players are noticing. Not in code—but in sensation."
Zidan's eyes widened. "Like… feeling pain?"
"Not yet. But vivid dreams. Echoes. Some say they smell burnt wood or feel the game's wind even after logging out."
"That's freaky."
"It's dangerous."
There was a long silence.
Then Zidan asked, "Shouldn't you tell Google? Or the Dev Guild?"
Zihad shook his head. "Not yet. If they know something's evolving beyond control, they'll shut it down. I need to understand what's happening first. Monitor it. Guide it if I can."
Zidan stared at him, unsure whether to be impressed or horrified.
And then the front doorbell rang.
Their mother's voice echoed up the stairs. "Zihad, someone's here for you!"
Zihad stiffened.
He wasn't expecting anyone.
And people rarely came for him.
Zidan peeked out the window. A black car. Tinted windows. Government plates?
"Who is that?" he asked.
Zihad stood, quietly composing himself. "Only one way to find out."
As he walked down the stairs, he knew instinctively:
The world of Dream Land Fantasy wasn't just merging into reality.
Reality was beginning to notice it.
And someone else — maybe a corporation, maybe a government agency — had come knocking.
End of Chapter 20