I thought I’d get a second chance at life. Y’know... the usual: a fantasy world, a legendary sword, maybe even a cute goddess blessing me with cheat skills.

Instead, I woke up blinking into a blank canvas with a freaking loading sign before me. Because I’d been reincarnated… as a cursor.

Yes. The little arrow on a computer screen. The one humans drag around without a shred of mercy.

Now I’m forced to wander the internet at the whim of clueless users. One moment I’m opening spreadsheets full of numbers that make no sense, the next I’m being shoved into a dungeon of pop-ups offering “Free iPhones” and “Hot Singles in My Area.”

I’ve faced Captcha trials that question my very existence (“Am I a bus… or am I not a bus?”), battled malware goblins in shady download sites, and endured the cursed lands of comment sections.

But this cursor isn’t content to blink in silence. If the gods stuck me here, then fine—I’ll master this glowing body, survive the horrors of the web, and carve out my legend.

This is the story of how I, once human, became the most dangerous pointer in the digital multiverse.

The browser shimmered into focus, and there it was: a familiar red play button staring at me from the middle of a thumbnail.


"YouTube," I muttered. "I should've known."


Before I could blink twice, the hand slammed me down.


A fluffy golden retriever puppy appeared on-screen, stumbling around with a sock in its mouth. The comments below gushed with hearts and emojis.


I softened despite myself. "Okay… that's actually adorable."


The human just sat there, letting the thirty-second ad play in full.


I screamed in agony as a voice boomed across the screen: "Try our NEW premium shampoo, now with 4X aloe!" A giant bottle danced awkwardly while ukulele music chirped in the background.


"Please! For the love of sanity, just skip it!" I begged, thrashing against the hand.


But the human didn't move. Not a single pixel.


When the video finally resumed, I sighed with relief—only for the human to scroll down into the comments section.


"Oh no," I whispered. "Not here. Not the toxic swamp."


The top comment read: "This dog is cuter than my ex lol."


The third: a wall of emojis so long it stretched down the page.


I covered my eyes. "My brain cells… they're dying…"


This time, a cat fell into a bathtub. Cute, right? Except the title screamed, "TRY NOT TO LAUGH CHALLENGE!!!" in bold capital letters with sixteen exclamation points.


I groaned. "Oh no. It's bait. Pure, uncut bait."


Before I could escape, autoplay yanked me into another video. And another. And another.


At first, it was fun. Even I laughed. But the videos kept coming. Faster. Louder. Stranger. The thumbnails got more cursed. Titles devolved into chaos:


"TOP 10 CATS THAT COULD DESTROY THE ECONOMY (YOU WON'T BELIEVE #7)."


"MAN EATS 100 CHICKEN NUGGETS WHILE CRYING."


My glowing body twitched uncontrollably. "This… this is endless! A labyrinth with no exit! The autoplay spiral!"


I tried to resist, but the hand dragged me deeper, chasing recommended videos like a moth to a flame. Somewhere along the way, the cute videos blurred into enraging ones—shouting thumbnails, prank channels, conspiracy rants.


And just when I thought it couldn't get worse—


Chapter 5 - Tube of Madness