"Game Over" and the End of an Eighty-Year Dream
Time: Subjective Year 80 (The Final Day within the Game).
Location: The Ruins of Novigrad (The heart of the old Tokyo wreckage, merged with game code).
Kenji sat at the very pinnacle of the ruined Tokyo Tower.
Eighty years.
Eight decades of endless slaughter, blood, Essence, and silence.
His appearance no longer bore any resemblance to a human being. The armor encasing his body was a grotesque fusion of bone and metal, from which a violet aura—the "Essence of Darkness"—constantly radiated. His face was hidden behind a mask, and his eyes were pitch black, like the abyssal depths of the cosmos. It had been over half a century since he had last spoken, laughed, or even felt the sting of simple, human pain.
He had cleared the entire server. There were no Bosses left. No monsters remained. He had annihilated the forests, the mountains, and the seas, absorbing their energy until there was nothing left to take.
Now, only the Void remained.
Suddenly, colorful pixels began to congregate in the air directly before him.
Kenji did not move. He assumed it was merely another glitch in the deteriorating system.
But the pixels coalesced into a shape.
Standing before him... was Kenji.
But this was not the current "Monster Kenji." This was the Kenji of old—seventeen years old, hair grown out, clad in basic starter armor, with that famous, brazenly sarcastic smirk plastered on his face.
"Whoa!" the Old Kenji (The Second Shadow) whistled, looking him up and down. "Nice look, brother. Which barber did you go to? The 'Apocalypse Style' salon? You've gotten awfully serious, haven't you?"
The Real Kenji did not rise. Deep within him, a strange, forgotten emotion stirred—rage.
"You... do not exist," Kenji's voice rasped, sounding like two heavy stones grinding against one another.
"Of course I don't," the Second Shadow replied with a shrug, biting into a virtual apple that had materialized in his hand. "I'm your sanity. Or, how should I put it... I am your 'Humanity.' You threw me in the trash sixty years ago, remember? 'Emotions are a weakness,' blah, blah, blah."
The Real Kenji raised his hand.
"BEGONE!"
At his will, a massive bolt of black lightning descended from the heavens, striking the Second Shadow directly.
A normal Boss would have been vaporized instantly by such a blow.
But when the smoke cleared, the Second Shadow was still there, casually picking his nose.
"Hey, take it easy!" the Shadow laughed. "You can't kill me, genius. I am You. Can a man stab his own shadow? Go on, try again, maybe you'll get lucky this time?"
Kenji stood up. His patience had evaporated.
He extended his arms to both sides. In one hand, the "Sword of Darkness" materialized; in the other, the "Star's Demise"—the most powerful laser cannon in the Cosmic Server.
"You die!" Kenji lunged forward.
It wasn't a fight; it was a dance. The Real Kenji attacked with power capable of erasing existence itself. He threw strikes that could level mountains.
But the Second Shadow... he was merely playing.
He dodged the blows like an agent in The Matrix, occasionally hopping onto Kenji's shoulder to whisper into his ear:
"Why so serious? If Aira saw you like this, she'd be terrified. She'd say, 'Who is this? Where is my Kenji? This is just some rusted piece of scrap metal!'"
"SHUT UP!" Kenji unleashed a "Blast Wave" with all his might.
The Second Shadow was sent flying, slamming into a concrete wall. But he stood up immediately, dusting off his clothes. The smirk vanished from his face. Now, he too was serious.
"Enough, Kenji," the Shadow said. A simple, rusty Starter Knife appeared in his hand. "The game is over. You won. You won everything. You cleared the entire server. You took everything for yourself."
The Shadow approached Kenji. Kenji tried to strike him, but his arm wouldn't move. The System had locked him.
"What... is this?" Kenji trembled.
"This is the End," the Shadow said softly. "For eighty years, you have been the God of this world. But Gods are lonely. Your mission is complete. It is time to Logout."
Kenji looked at the Shadow. The Shadow stared back into his eyes.
"Who are you in the real world, Kenji? Can you remember? You are just a little boy trapped in a game. These powers, this armor... they are all just museum exhibits."
The Shadow raised his knife.
"Forgive me, brother. But for you to wake up, the 'You' of this world must die."
Kenji offered no resistance. Suddenly, he felt a crushing wave of exhaustion. Eighty years of fatigue.
The Shadow drove the knife straight into Kenji's heart.
There was no pain.
Only relief.
Tears streamed from Kenji's eyes. They were the first tears he had shed in eighty years.
"Aira..." he whispered.
"Yes," the Shadow said, leaning close to his ear. "Go. Find her. And please... be a little funnier in real life. Seriousness doesn't suit you."
The Second Shadow disintegrated.
Kenji's body cracked apart.
The sky collapsed.
Darkness.
SYSTEM REBOOTING...
ERROR...
SERVERS SHUTTING DOWN...
CONSCIOUSNESS TRANSFER IN PROGRESS...
REAL WORLD. YEAR 2032.
Tokyo Central Military Hospital. The "Unawakened" Ward.
Beep... Beep... Beep...
A white ceiling.
Blinding, dim neon lights.
The air was thick with the sharp scent of medicine and rubbing alcohol.
Kenji opened his eyes.
He immediately tried to spring up, just as he would launch himself at an enemy on the battlefield.
But his body... was as heavy as stone.
He could not move. His arms and legs refused to obey. He didn't even have the strength to lift his head.
What happened? Where is my power? Where is my Essence?! he thought, panic rising within him.
His gaze fell upon his right hand.
This hand...
It was a fragile thing—pale, withered, the muscles atrophied to nothing, veins tracing blue maps across skin that had seen no sun. Tubes and wires were connected to his fingers.
This was not the hand that had wielded a sword for eighty years. This was the hand of a coma patient who had lain motionless for two years.
Kenji tried to rasp out a sound, but the tube in his throat prevented it.
He could only roll his eyes.
In the reflection of the room's glass, he saw a blurry image of himself.
Hair overgrown, face gaunt, eyes sunken deep into their sockets.
At that moment, the door opened.
A nurse in a white coat entered, followed by a girl.
The girl...
Her clothes were plain—slightly worn jeans and a jacket. Her hair was tied back messily. Her face was stamped with exhaustion and sorrow.
But Kenji recognized that face. Even eighty years of darkness could not erase it.
Laylo.
His little sister.
When Kenji had left, she was a fifteen-year-old girl. Now she was seventeen, but her eyes held the pain of someone fifty years her senior.
Laylo approached the bed and, as was her habit, took her brother's hand.
"Hello, big brother," she said quietly. Her voice was broken. "I came again today. The doctors... they said there's no hope. But I don't believe them. You're strong, right?"
Kenji tried with all his might to move his finger.
I'm back, Laylo. I'm right here. I've returned from eighty years of hell!
Laylo didn't notice the twitch in his finger. She burst into tears and rested her head on Kenji's chest.
"Please, wake up... I'm tired of being alone. Outside... there are monsters outside, brother. They are real. I'm scared."
Monsters? Kenji's mind worked like lightning.
So, the game wasn't over.
The game had moved to Reality.
At that exact moment, right there in the real world, transparent blue text materialized in the air before Kenji's eyes:
[SYSTEM RESTORED]
[PLAYER: KENJI (SHADOW)]
[STATUS: AWAKENING]
[ESSENCE LEVEL: INFINITE (FROZEN: 99%)]
[WARNING: PHYSICAL BODY CRITICAL. CANNOT SUSTAIN FULL POWER.]
Underneath the breathing tube, a faint, barely perceptible smile touched Kenji's lips.
The Second Shadow was right. The game was over.
But a new one had begun. And this time, Kenji was no "Noob."
He was the only God of this new world.