"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! mRYUz WITH THE GODLIKE REFLEXES—HE DODGES THE STUN! THE CROWD IS ON THEIR FEET!"
"THE QUEEN UNLEASHES ANOTHER DEADLY WAVE—CAN HE SURVIVE?! OHHHH! IMMUNITY ACTIVATED! THREE HEROES FALL!"
"IT'S DOWN TO ARCHMAGUS VS TWO—TWO LEFT STANDING!"
"THE MAGUS INFINITE COMBO IS LOCKED IN! SPIRALING, UNSTOPPABLE!"
"WHO CAN CHALLENGE THIS DEMON OF THE ARCANE?! HE'S TURNING TAIL—HE'S RUNNING! BUT TOO LATE! TOO LATE!"
"KABOOOOOM!"
The crowd's roar faded into static as Dexter's phone glitched, a bank notification slicing through the screen. The factory's hum replaced the cheers, while its greasy air choking his lungs.
"Reality always wins," he muttered, his voice barely audible over the hum of machinery.
He sighed, thumbing his phone awake again. The numbers glared back at him: his savings, once a safety net, now whittled down to scraps. He shoved the phone into his pocket, the weight of it heavier than it had any right to be.
"I really should've focused on my studies when I was young."
The thought was bitter, familiar. His meager factory wage barely covered monthly bills, let alone the comforts he'd taken for granted when his parents were still alive—when he was still someone. Now, even the cheap beer tasted like regret.
"At least I can still afford cigarettes."
The factory doors groaned shut behind him as he stepped into the night. The sidewalk was cracked and uneven, littered with pebbles he kicked absently, each one skittering into the darkness like another wasted opportunity.
Above him, the sky stretched vast and indifferent, speckled with stars he couldn't name. He wondered, not for the first time, if his parents were up there somewhere—watching. Judging.
Or if they'd just... moved on.
...
Dexter pushed open the convenience store door, the bell jingling overhead as he stepped inside. He grabbed a can of beer and a bag of cheap snacks from the fridge, then wandered the aisles, scanning for anything else useful—or at least affordable—before trudging to the counter.
The clerk barely glanced up from his phone.
"Hey... where's Fred?" Dexter asked.
The clerk shrugged, his expression indifferent.
"He's on leave."
"Huh. That's a surprise. I thought that guy never got tired."
'Damn. Now I can't put the cigarettes on credit... Oh well.'
He gestured toward the rack behind the counter.
"That one—no, give me the Reds."
The clerk handed him the pack, then suddenly squinted at Dexter, recognition flickering in his eyes.
"Aren't you Dexter Crawford?"
Dexter tensed.
'Shit. Did Fred tell this guy about my unpaid tab?'
"Yeah. Why?"
The clerk's face brightened.
"Weren't you the guy who made that insane comeback in TW... what, like, 10—no—15 years ago?"
'Oh. Not the debt. Sorry, Fred—cursed you for nothing.' Dexter exhaled.
"Yeah, that's me. What about it?"
The clerk's eyes lit up like he'd just unearthed buried treasure.
"Dude, I'll never forget those god-tier combos you pulled off with 'Archmagus'! Why'd you quit?"
Dexter flexed his left hand unconsciously. The tremors were faint, but unmistakable if you knew where to look.
"The game's different now. Too complex." He forced a smirk. "And I'm too old for that shit anyway."
The clerk gave him a wistful smile, then bagged the items and slid them across the counter.
"Kinda tragic—a legend like you setting the standard, then just... vanishing." He paused, then grinned. "But hey, these are on me. A gift for my idol."
He hesitated, rubbing his neck.
"Though... can I get a selfie with mRYUz?"
The free beer and cigarettes tugged a dry laugh from Dexter. The clerk probably mistook it for nostalgia at hearing his old username.
"Sure, whatever."
...
After leaving the store, Dexter wandered to the park a mile from his apartment. He slumped onto a bench, cracking open the beer, lighting a cigarette, and tearing into the snacks with mechanical bites.
Above him, the sky stretched wide and indifferent. He could still hear it—the deafening roar of the crowd chanting his IGN, the weight of a thousand eyes on his every move. He'd been a legend once. But legends were just ghosts people praised once they were gone.
He felt a shiver slowly going down his spine and his hands started trembling, just like they did that night, after the crash, when he'd found his parents' bodies in the hospital.
He took a long drag, the ember flaring in the dim light.
"I'm afraid to die," he muttered to no one.
Finishing the beer, he lit another cigarette, inhaling until his lungs burned. The nicotine buzzed in his veins, a fleeting comfort.
'Yeah... this shit.'
He stood, swaying slightly as the alcohol hummed through him. His vision blurred at the edges, but his feet carried him forward on muscle memory alone.
"I love this," he slurred to the empty street.
"Being drunk, smoking... At least this way, I know I'm still alive."
But as he approached the crosswalk, he only noticed a barricade standing on the other side of the road—not the dancing glitchy "Walk" sign.
Beep— Beep—
Then he saw it—the light, blinding like the sun.
'WTF... Am I really gonna die here to Truck-kun?'
Suddenly, his innate talent—the reflexes that made him faster than any gamer—kicked in. His muscles tensed, his breathing turned shallow, though the alcohol still clouded his system.
'Not today, Truck-kun.'
In an instant, he dropped low—
His legs bent—
Then, with a burst of adrenaline, he leaped!
He lunged like a wildcat toward the other side of the road.
The wind rushed past his face like a storm; his feet nearly grazed the truck's bumper. He hit the ground hard, rolling painfully before finally coming to a stop.
The pain reassured him—he was still alive.
He had survived Truck-kun, but not the driver's furious curses.
"FUCK YOU TOO!" Dexter shouted, nearly exhausting his lungs.
As he got up, brushing dirt off his clothes, he walked beside the open manhole lid, not noticing it.
Then suddenly a cat darted out of nowhere, startling him into sidestepping.
"Oh shi—"
And that was the biggest mistake of his life.
…
Dexter opened his eyes with difficulty, scanning his surroundings only to see nothing but darkness.
It was pitch black, as if light couldn't penetrate the abyss.
'Am I dead? Did I get Isekai'd'
Then he heard it—the soft drip of water. His body was soaked, and when he took a deep breath—
—He immediately pinched his nose shut, recoiling from the stench.
Gritting his teeth, he breathed through his mouth and looked up, spotting a dim light filtering through a small hole above.
...
"Out of all the manholes in the world, I had to pick the VIP of crap... What kind of bullshit is this..."
Grumbling, Dexter trudged forward, his clothes drenched in filth.
"Oh Yeah? From 'Archmagus' to a 'Sewage Rat Mob'... Why am I so goddamn unlucky? I thought free cigarettes and beer were a blessing—turns out it was karma. Should've paid for it... Never taking anything free again."
With a shudder, he fished the key from his shit-soaked pocket, every movement sending disgust crawling down his spine.
Finally home, he tiptoed across the clean floor and bolted straight for the bathroom, scrubbing himself raw with soap. Yet, the stench clung to him—burrowed deep in his nostrils like a curse.
He stuffed his ruined clothes into a garbage bag and hurled it outside, then frantically cleaned his house. But no matter how much he scrubbed, the foul odor lingered.
"Damn it... How the hell am I supposed to sleep like this?"
Dexter checked his dilapidated phone and saw a message notification:
[My Cute Lil Sis]
[Bro! I'll be back tomorrow morning. shishi wants me to sleep over at her place.]
'I hope by the time she comes, the smell is gone.'
Defeated, he slumped into his gaming chair, eyeing his bed with longing before giving up. Instead, he booted up his PC and launched his favorite offline game—Eldor Ring, complete with DLC.
Slaying mobs to pass the time, he waited for his nose to adjust to the putrid stench—worse than rotten eggs.
"Tsk... even my PC is old now! Why does it keep on glitching?"
Eventually, exhaustion overtook him, and he dozed off mid-game.
...
...
...
[Initiating Multiverse Convergence...]