It's been a month now—hah—and I've been glued to this game like a shadow that forgot the sun. Day blurs into night down here. I don't even keep track anymore.
The screen glows like a god, and I obey. My berserker—he's everything. Chaos incarnate. Clicky-ta-clack, clack-click... that rhythm? That's my heartbeat now. Yeah... that's the spirit. Crush them all. No mercy.
As I went on a rampage, tearing through NPCs like some mad god of war, I laughed—massacring everything in sight. Seriously, NPCs... don't kill me. Just forgive me. Or better yet—burn and die. You brought this on yourselves, right? This is your fault. Not mine.
I think I'm losing it. This game—it's doing something to me. It doesn't feel normal anymore. The people scream now. Not in code—realistic, guttural screeches. One of them shouted, "You'll pay for this! You destroyed my town!"
Huh? What did I ever do to you?
Well, whatever. I better end him before he gets his revenge. He's a demon, after all. And this is the demon land. No rules here. Just me, my blade, and the endless slaughter.
After I wiped out the entire demon-infested town, it was loot time. The silence was heavy—just the crackle of flames and the faint hum of victory in the air. I moved slowly, boots crunching over ash and bone, my giant berserker blade slung over my shoulder. It gleamed faintly, still wet from the last kill. Nᴇw ɴovel chaptᴇrs are published on novelFɪre.net
My armor—black, worn, and scarred—matched the dead knights who once guarded this cursed place. Their red, glinting eyes still stared, even in death. Useless now.
I stepped over the bodies, one by one, scanning for anything worth my time. Stargems... a pair of Regislets... yeah, not bad. I picked them up with a grunt and dropped them into my inventory. Click. Click. Just like Minecraft.
All done. Clean sweep.
Funny, isn't it? I've been describing the atmosphere all this time, but now... I can feel it. The heat. The ash. The weight of what I've done. What a joke.
Still—no time to dwell. Another town waits. More demons to hunt.
As I turned to leave the wreckage behind, I walked down the broken pavement—a road soaked in slaughter. The blood still steamed. My armor creaked with every step, thick with the stench of death.
A voice. A mother, clutching her young son. "Thank you," she whispered. "For slaying the infected. You're a hero."
I stopped, eyes fixed on their backs as they disappeared into the smoke. And I said—quiet, cold—
"I'm no hero. I'm a mad berserker."
Even now, I still don't understand why things turned out this way. Why this world feels so twisted. Why the screams sound like songs. Why the sky feels like it's watching me. Smiling.
Like the whole place is laughing... through a burning bloodbath.
Well... I guess my time as a berserker's done—at least for now. Time to switch things up. I cracked my fingers and smirked.
Secondary character: Alchemist Support Mage. Yeah, I know. Big shift. Funny though—my first was a blade-swinging madman, and this one's... an elf girl. Graceful. Precise. I named her Dila.
I chuckled to myself. It's just an avatar. I'm not actually turning into a girl or anything. Just pixels and code. Still, something about her feels different—calmer. Focused.
I tapped away at the keyboard, selecting herbs, processing them with a few clicks, then dragging the stargem and those leftover Regislets into the mix.
Walah. One healing potion, infused with steady mana regeneration—tick, tick, tick—every second it's consumed. Clean. Efficient. No blood. Just quiet power.
Why does everything around me feel like it's fading? The air shifted—heavier, colder. Fog crept in, slow and thick, swallowing the corners of my room like a dream closing in on itself.
I glanced at my screen—it was glowing now. Not normal light. A strange, pulsing blue hue that bled across the walls. I blinked. My heart kicked up. The only things still visible were the keyboard, the mouse, and the screen. Everything else—gone into the mist.
And my hands... they were shaking.
Then—out of nowhere—a voice.
"Hello. How was your experience playing The Halo World?"
I flinched. Yanked my hand off the mouse. The keyboard clattered slightly as I pulled back.
What the hell was that?
Then suddenly—static.
The screen flickered, distorted lines crawling like insects across the glow. A shape emerged. Vague at first, then solid—too solid. A face. A hollow, grinning face. Its eyes were black voids, crackling with static, staring straight into me.
A voice followed. Cold. Mechanical. Too calm.
"Are you ready to enter this world?"
"You've been glued to your computer for so long... but now it's time to explore it. Really explore it."
"This is nonsense," I muttered, shaking my head. "What the hell are you talking about?"
But the voice didn't stop. It cut deeper.
"We've seen you. You've made no connection to the real world. You abandoned your mother... your father. For what? Pixels? Quests? Glory in fake blood?"
The figure on the screen grinned wider. That horrible grin stretching into something inhuman.
The static intensified.
I couldn't look away.
"So," the voice whispered through the static, the grin stretching wider, darker.
"What's your call? Will you touch the screen... and venture into the new world?"
I hesitated. My breath caught.
"If I go into your Halo World..." I asked, voice trembling, "what's my main goal? What's the reward?"
The face twitched, then smiled again—cold, crooked, and full of malice.
It leaned closer, as if pressing through the glass.
"You just need to kill every infected demon in that world."
I stared, stunned. "What are you talking about? That's—impossible. There's no way I can kill them all."
The grin never faded.
The static hummed louder. My fingers hovered over the screen. I could feel my pulse pounding in my ears.
My eyes widened—worry twisting into despair.
Was this a challenge? A trap?
Or had the game become something else entirely?
I hovered my hand closer to the screen.
The glow pulsed—blue and unnatural—casting shadows across my trembling fingers. The static figure leaned in, its smile twitching, broken and hungry.
"Do it..." it whispered.
The voice wasn't just from the screen anymore. It echoed in my mind—deep, layered, wrong. Like a chorus of something ancient and otherworldly, ringing inside my skull, vibrating through my bones.
The pressure built. My ears buzzed. The room felt far away now, as if reality itself was peeling back.
But my hand kept moving.
"No... I didn't sign up for this i refuse to cooperate," I muttered, my hand still inches from the screen.
I started to pull away.
The static figure lunged—its arm bursting out from the screen like a glitch made flesh. A hand, crackling and warped, grabbed my wrist.
Panic surged through me as I fought to pull back, but its grip was ice-cold and electric, dragging me forward, closer—into the light.
Then everything exploded into a blinding white glow.
Sound vanished. The room disappeared.