CHAPTER 4 — RNG IS A CRUEL GOD
Night did not fall gently.
It collapsed.
The sun dipped below the skyline and the city exhaled something rotten, like it had been holding its breath all day just to watch him suffer.
Noctis sat on the floor of an abandoned convenience store, back against the counter, knife clenched so hard his fingers hurt.
Every sound felt amplified.
A bottle rolling somewhere outside.
Wind scraping a sign.
A distant, wet dragging noise that made his stomach churn.
"…Okay," he whispered to himself. "First night. First fucking night. Everyone dies on the first night. Horror rule number one."
He laughed under his breath—high, brittle.
"GG, Noctis. Tutorial not completed."
His eyes kept darting to the dark corners.
That's when the temperature dropped.
Not physically.
Conceptually.
The shadow peeled itself off the far wall like ink sliding off paper.
Noctis gasped and scrambled to his feet, knocking over a rack of expired snacks.
"NOPE—!" He nearly tripped. "I didn't consent to this encounter!"
The shadow ignored him.
Two hands extended.
Two pills.
Different again.
BLUE PILL
A dull, chalky oval. Slightly cracked.
Description:
Comfort.
Your body will rest tonight.
Your mind will forget parts of today.
You will wake up slower.
RED PILL
Jagged. Uneven. Like it had been bitten.
Description:
Momentum.
Your body will not rest.
Fatigue will be delayed.
When it ends, it will end violently.
Noctis stared.
"…You're telling me," he said shakily, "my options are Alzheimer's or cocaine?"
The shadow said nothing.
He wiped sweat from his forehead.
He was exhausted.
His legs felt like rubber.
But sleeping felt… dangerous.
"Every zombie movie ever," he muttered. "People die in their sleep."
He swallowed.
"…Fine. Let's keep the streak."
He took the RED PILL.
The effect was immediate.
The ache vanished.
His breathing evened out.
His vision sharpened just enough to be unsettling.
But underneath—
A pressure.
Like a coiled spring inside his spine.
"…Oh that's not ominous at all," he whispered.
The shadow vanished.
Outside, something screamed.
Noctis jumped, heart slamming.
"Okay," he said quickly. "We're moving. We are NOT staying still on night one."
He learned something important an hour later.
Running while artificially energized feels amazing.
Running when it runs out feels like dying in slow motion.
His legs gave out mid-sprint.
He crashed behind a burned-out car, gasping, vision blurring.
"…Called it," he croaked. "Called the crash."
His muscles spasmed violently.
Every nerve screamed.
He bit down on his sleeve to keep from yelling.
Through watery vision, he saw them.
Zombies.
Different.
Not the shamblers from earlier.
These moved wrong.
Jerky.
Fast bursts, then stillness.
They stayed in shadows.
Avoided streetlights.
"…Already adapting?" he whispered, terrified.
One turned its head suddenly.
Sniffed.
Noctis froze.
Don't move. Don't breathe.
It tilted its head.
Then—
A child's voice echoed down the street.
"Help me… please…"
Noctis's blood ran cold.
His chest tightened.
"…No," he whispered. "No no no no."
The voice was perfect.
Too perfect.
He remembered a movie scene—exact same setup. Player walks forward. Screen fades to black.
"…I am NOT falling for that shit," he hissed.
He crawled backward, every muscle screaming.
The voice followed him.
Closer.
"Help me… it hurts…"
Tears welled in his eyes—not from emotion, but fear.
"…Fuck you," he whispered hoarsely. "Fuck you and your voice acting."
He turned and ran.
Something lunged from the dark.
He barely dodged, blade slashing wildly.
He didn't look back.
He didn't stop.
He ran until his lungs burned and his legs went numb.
When he finally collapsed inside an apartment stairwell, he puked.
Shaking.
Crying.
Laughing weakly.
"…I am NOT the main character," he gasped. "I am background survivor number thirty-seven."
He locked the door.
Barricaded it.
Slid down against the wall.
His hands wouldn't stop shaking.
"…I'm scared," he admitted aloud.
The words felt heavy.
Real.
"I thought I wanted this," he whispered. "Not this. Not like this."
He pulled out the notebook with trembling fingers.
The page was smeared from sweat.
DAY 1 — NIGHT OBSERVATION (FRAGMENTED)
– Some infected mimic human voices
– Occurs at night / shadowed areas
– Avoid responding to voices
– Running saved my life (barely)
He stared at the page.
"…I almost died," he whispered.
Silence answered.
Hours passed.
No sleep.
Just shallow breathing and flinching at every sound.
Just before dawn—
The shadow returned.
Noctis didn't even stand this time.
"…Of course you're back," he muttered. "Daily gacha reset, right?"
The pills were different.
Ugly.
Wrong.
BLUE PILL
Transparent. Empty inside.
Description:
Nothing.
No effect.
RED PILL
Black. Heavy. Cold.
Description:
Loss.
Something important will be taken.
You will survive it.
Noctis laughed.
A broken, hysterical sound.
"…You're fucking with me," he said. "This is psychological warfare."
He stared at the pills.
Nothing.
Or loss.
"…I hate RNG," he whispered.
His hand hovered.
Then—
He took the BLUE PILL.
Nothing happened.
The shadow vanished.
Noctis slumped.
"…Good," he murmured. "One normal thing. Just one."
Outside, the sun began to rise.
The city smoked.
Somewhere far away, something screamed as sunlight touched it.
Noctis closed his eyes.
"…Day two," he whispered. "I'm still alive."
A pause.
"…Somehow."