Chapter 5: Warning—Side Effects May Include Death and Existential Crises
(Chris's POV, Now Featuring More Existential Dread Than My High School Finals)
After about an hour of me pretending to be a fusion between Ryu and Geralt of Rivia, I finally collapsed onto one of the ridiculously fluffy velvet sofas. I say collapsed, but really I just flopped like a defeated anime protagonist, sword and shield falling with a clank beside me.
Diana sat cross-legged on the floor a few feet away, her creepy-awesome tar wolves still sitting like loyal pets. One of them tilted its head at me, which I refused to acknowledge because I swear it knew I was afraid of it.
I stared at the chandelier above. Gold. Crystals. Probably more expensive than my entire school. Then I looked over at the glimmering bracelet on my wrist and the glowing crystal inside it, still pulsing faintly from all the mana-jutsu-nonsense I'd been trying.
And then, finally, I said what had been swirling in my head ever since we stepped foot on this magic anime-palace island.
"Diana… this is absolutely bonkers."
She raised a brow and gave me one of her well, duh looks. "You just noticed?"
"No, like—I mean it. This shouldn't be possible. Either we're in a next-gen VR pod being poked by future nerds, or this is... I don't know, actual magic."
She leaned back and let the tar wolves dissolve into inky puddles beside her. It looked cool. It also made me a little nervous, but not in a bad way. Just in a "my best friend might be a dark magical creature now" kind of way.
"You're saying this might not be real?" she asked, tone thoughtful.
"No, I'm saying... it feels too real. That's the problem."
I waved my hand dramatically. "Look at us! I have an inventory. You have a power that makes Venom look like a puppy. And that bracelet gave me third-person control over my body! Either we're in a simulation that makes the Matrix look like an Etch A Sketch, or some wizard in the HR department is playing God."
Diana twirled a strand of her hair, looking amused. "You think there's an HR wizard?"
"Oh absolutely. I bet she's got glasses, a clipboard, and sends magical memos that explode if you ignore them."
She laughed. "So what's your theory, Mr. Control Freak?"
I gave her a crooked grin. "I think this is magic pretending to be tech."
She blinked. "Explain."
"Okay, hear me out. We've seen floating fire birds, disappearing introverts, and a dude with a pain kink who summons blade storms—"
"Abyss Gazer," Diana interrupted, smiling.
"Yeah, him. My point is... this isn't programmed. It's too emotional. Everyone's powers are based on their personality, their triggers. The crystal didn't scan our DNA or install an app. It felt us. That's not how tech works."
Diana nodded slowly. "So you're saying it's magic... but systematized."
"Exactly! Like someone took raw magic and gave it patch notes."
We sat in silence for a moment, staring out at the other players. Some were still discovering powers. Some were practicing. Some were just sitting and looking stunned, like they'd ordered a salad and received enlightenment.
I glanced at Diana again.
"Does it freak you out?" I asked, quietly.
She smiled softly. "Yeah. But not in a bad way. Not if you're here too."
Cue my heart doing a small triple backflip. I ignored it. Mostly.
"Okay," I said slowly. "Let's say this is magic. What's the endgame? Do we graduate as full-fledged wizards? Do we get a staff and a talking owl? Are we being scouted for some global mage championship?"
"Or maybe we are in Hogwarts," Diana offered, eyes twinkling. "But the American version. You know—edgy, corporatized, and with better wifi."
That actually sounded plausible. Leave it to capitalism to monetize arcane arts.
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Rule #42 of survival in a magical game world that may or may not be an elaborate abduction scheme disguised as a fantasy RPG: Make friends with the guy who can vanish without a trace.
Especially if he can take other things with him.
And thus began Operation: Recruit Ghost Boy.
The palace tutorial zone was still doing its best impression of Versailles if it had been designed by an anime fan with ADHD. Golden chandeliers sparkled like constellations. Marble floors so polished I could see my insecurities reflected in them. Magical displays of power popping off in every direction—flaming birds, floating swords, a girl who made a whip out of lightning and nearly took out a dessert table. I mourned the cheesecake.
Diana and I, full from round four of snack raiding, sat on a curved velvet sofa and talked strategy.
"Well," I said between bites of some dangerously addictive fruit tart, "since we're clearly not getting any answers from lounging around and theorizing about simulation wizards, we might as well prepare."
Diana wiped her mouth and nodded. "Agreed. We don't know what kind of twisted game this is going to become. Could be a dungeon crawler. Could be... death dodgeball."
I pointed my fork at her. "Exactly. We need a team. Allies. Muscle. Magic. Moral support."
"Snacks?"
"Obviously snacks."
We locked eyes and nodded like generals preparing for war. Then I tapped open my map screen—a floating, semi-transparent HUD that showed all the players in little glowing dots. Except...
"Felix still isn't showing up," I muttered, poking at the screen like it had personally betrayed me.
Diana tilted her head. "The invisible guy?"
"Yeah. Hoodie guy. Anti-social, magically silent, doesn't even trigger the map. I bet if a nuke dropped on him, the nuke would just apologize and leave."
She snorted. "He'd be perfect for stealth missions. Or hiding snacks."
"Exactly! If we're building a party, we need the rogue archetype. The shadow dude. And bonus—he already hates everyone. That means he's reliable."
So began the quest to locate the man who literally didn't want to be found.
We split up and started scanning the quieter corners of the palace—the behind-the-columns, under-the-staircase, lurking-by-the-potted-plants areas.
It took almost twenty minutes and a very awkward moment with a statue I swear was moving before I found him. Or rather, he revealed himself when I tripped over what I thought was an empty chair.
"OW—what the—!"
Suddenly the chair shimmered and became occupied by a hunched-over hoodie-wearing figure: Felix. I yelped. He flinched. We stared at each other like two cats caught in a surprise dance-off.
"I wasn't here," he muttered, voice barely above a whisper.
"Clearly you were, or I wouldn't have busted my knee on your foot!" I rubbed my leg and sat down beside him, ignoring the way he visibly recoiled like I was made of garlic and judgment.
Diana, bless her stealth skill of being socially competent, appeared beside us a moment later and gave him a small smile. "Hey, we just wanted to talk."
Felix shifted, tugging his hoodie lower. "Don't want to talk. Don't want to play with anyone. Just want to stay hidden until this is over."
I tried to keep my tone casual. "Look, man, I get it. This whole thing is nuts. I'm a gamer too—I expected menus and stats and maybe a skip cutscene button. Not... y'know, existential magic bracelet powers."
He didn't laugh, but he twitched slightly. Maybe a half-smirk. Progress?
"We're not trying to force you," Diana said gently. "But being alone in a game like this is risky. We don't even know what the end goal is yet."
"You could get hurt," I added. "Or... worse."
Felix didn't respond. Just stared down at his hands. I saw a flicker of movement—his fingers phasing in and out of visibility like he was glitching on purpose.
"I'm not good with people," he mumbled. "Never have been. This was supposed to be VR. I thought I could play like normal. Alone. Where no one sees me."
Diana placed a hand over her heart. "Believe me, I've been there."
I blinked at her, surprised, but she met Felix's eyes with quiet sincerity.
"I was the weird girl at school. Anime, games, no one to talk to. Chris was the first person who actually got me. It's okay to be scared of being seen. But sometimes... it's nice when someone sees you and doesn't run away."
Felix stared at her. Then at me. Then at the floor.
And then he vanished.
Poof. Just—gone. No sound. No shimmer. Just empty air and a cold draft.
I sighed. "So... that's a no."
Diana sat back. "Maybe not forever."
"True. I'm keeping him on the 'Maybe' list."
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You ever have that feeling where you think you're in a tutorial level and then someone drops a nuclear bomb of plot twists on your head?
Yeah, welcome to my life.
Diana and I were just about to go looking for other people to recruit for our ragtag party—maybe someone who could hurl fireballs or summon a giant hamster or something—when the air in the middle of the palace shimmered like someone had turned reality into a heatwave. All of us stopped what we were doing: magic-sparring, looting the buffet table (guilty), attempting to awkwardly flirt while not realizing your face was covered in pudding (again, guilty).
Suddenly, he appeared. The guy in charge. The Big Tutorial Boss. The Mage With the Mic.
Imagine a CEO. Now imagine if that CEO bench-pressed planets in his free time. The guy looked like he walked straight off a motivational poster called "Spell Hard, Lift Harder." Sharp three-piece suit. Hair slicked back like a mob boss. Biceps that could probably crush a watermelon and your hopes.
He appeared in the air like a hologram, but very real, and very not friendly.
"Welcome, players," he said, his voice echoing through the endless palace like it was hooked up to every speaker system in existence. "To the Real-Life Game."
You could hear the collective groan of every nerd in the room, including mine. Diana gave me a look. I whispered, "This better not be another SAO knockoff."
He continued, "Be honored. You have been chosen from billions of humans to wield... Chaos Magic."
Chaos Magic? I mean, cool branding, sure. Very metal. But it also screamed 'Hey this will probably destroy your soul.'
"Just as some of you may have guessed," Mr. Muscles continued, "this is not technology. Your world is not so simple. Magic is real."
Cue the gasps. A few people fainted. One guy just quietly said, "Knew it," and started recording everything on his phone, which I'm 90% sure won't work anymore.
"Our company operates under the Mage Association," he said, as if that was a totally normal sentence and not something straight out of a Saturday morning cartoon.
"In this Infinite Palace, there are Chaos Beasts you must defeat to level up, increase your magic, and grow your abilities. The more you accept your inner self, the stronger you will become."
Inner self? So like... feelings? Emotions? Therapy?
He wasn't done. Oh no.
"But beware—if your willpower drops into the negatives, you will become a Chaos Beast yourself."
...So basically, if you have a breakdown, you become the final boss. Fun!
"Oh," the guy added, smiling like a car salesman about to sell you a haunted convertible, "you can't leave the game until it's cleared. And only survivors will become true mages and join the magical world."
I turned to Diana. "Tell me we didn't sign a contract."
She looked pale. "I didn't even read it. I thought it was a waiver for VR goggles."
Around the hall, chaos broke out. Half the players started shouting. One brave guy with a man-bun stormed forward.
"We didn't sign up for a survival game!" he yelled. "You can't trap us here! We have rights!"
Mr. Mage CEO adjusted his tie. "Actually, you did sign up for this. It's in the fine print."
He snapped his fingers. A glowing screen appeared above us showing a paragraph of legalese so dense it probably broke several language laws. At the very bottom, in font size -3, it read:
"By accepting this opportunity, you agree to participate in a live survival-based magic simulation with permanent consequences including but not limited to bodily transformation, magical corruption, and possible death."
I gawked. "Who writes this stuff?"
"Probably demon lawyers," Diana muttered.
Mr. Latin Name Guy (we still didn't get his actual name—looked like it started with "Maximus" or maybe "Mortem-something") smiled again.
"Now, let us begin the second phase of Real Dark Fantasy. Please aim to be the strongest player. Fight your way to the top. Clear the final boss. Survive."
He made it sound like a team-building activity. "Survive until the end or become a monster! Now who's ready for group exercise?!"
But then he dropped the final info bomb:
"We are not monsters," he said. "You will have rest areas, safe zones, market places, and anything else you may need to recover. However, you will need to fight to earn money."
Because of course capitalism survives even in a magic murder dimension.
"Oh, and one more thing," he added, now glowing faintly with golden light like a immortal about to clock out for the day, "There is a time limit. If the game is not cleared... the Chaos Beasts will break loose and kill all of you."
And with that, he vanished.
Poof. Gone. No smoke. No flourish. Just terrifying silence and a room full of people slowly realizing we were all going to die in a magical escape room from hell.
Diana sat down on a bench and covered her face. "We're doomed."
I plopped down beside her. "On the bright side, at least there's a market. Maybe they sell snacks."
She gave me a sideways glance. "You really think food is your biggest concern right now?"
I shrugged. "Well, that and the whole 'don't lose your will or turn into a chaos monster' thing."
"Right. That too."
We sat in silence for a moment, listening to the murmurs of the other players, the hum of magic in the air, and the distant scream of someone trying to cast a spell and accidentally catching their sleeve on fire.
I sighed. "So... ready to start a team?"
Diana looked at me, and for the first time, smiled with something between dread and determination.