The crosshairs danced on the screen, a pixelated ballet of imminent victory. My character, 'Ebrius,' was a blur of motion, sliding across the dusty rooftops of 'Veridian City,' dual pistols spitting fire. They were down to two. Two. My heart hammered with the sweet rhythm of a guaranteed win, a rare symphony after a night of grinding. One hostile down, the kill feed flashed. Just one more. I peeked around a crumbling chimney stack, saw him hunkered down in the dilapidated market building. "Almost there, almost there," I muttered, my fingers flying across the keyboard. This was it. The final showdown. I'd played this map a thousand times. Flank left, backdoor sneak, grenade through the window, then go in guns blazing. Just as I lined up the perfect throw, a loud, insistent thump-thump-thump vibrated through the floorboards.
"Hold on, hold on!" I yelled, half at the knocking, half at my screen. The knocking escalated, a violent cracking sound, like splintering wood. I ignored it. My last enemy was cornered. Grenade away. Then a blinding flash, a loud, sharp CRACK that vibrated through my very skull…
And I woke up to the sickening thump-thump-thump of something large and scaly trying to bash its way into my shack.
My eyes snapped open, the dream still a phantom limb. The cabinet I'd painstakingly barricaded the door with was shuddering violently, chunks of rotten wood spraying inwards. And through the widening cracks, I saw it: a pale, human-like face, too many eyes glinting in the gloom, and the snapping pincers of something desperate to get in. A low, wet hiss, like gasping for air, filled the air.
Juvenile Boapede Threat Level: Dangerous Description: Shorter than full-grown but don't let its size fool you.
Oh, come on!
Terror, cold and sharp, seized me. It was the same feeling that had paralyzed me when I was a college student, walking home late one night, and a shadow detached itself from the slums. *"Holdap to! Akin na pera mo!" (This is a hold up! Give me your money!). A voice had hissed, cold steel glinting at my throat. I'd given him everything—my allowance, then he violently grabbed my phone from my trembling hand. He scrambled back into the darkness, a ghost in the urban decay. This time, it was a Boapede, not a mugger. I couldn't just offer it my last few pesos and expect it to slither away, muttering about inflation. This thing wanted to eat me. And my rickety barricade was about to give. I thought, why couldn't this be an Isekai with an overpowered protagonist, that can destroy entire mountains with one spell? Or a harem with busty party members, that will fight monsters for me in seductive clothing? Instead, it was a brutal survival game filled with creepy-looking mashup monsters that wouldn't even let me catch a break.
The rotten cabinet groaned, then shrieked, threatening to unleash the nightmare. My eyes darted to the Giant Rusty Kitchen Knife I'd found. It seemed so much smaller now. My hands trembled as I scooped it up, the makeshift rag handle rough against my palm. Mimi's angry face flashed in my mind—that last fight before I got sucked into this nightmare. My unfinished game still paused somewhere in another world. Mom's adobo simmering on the stove back home, the garlic and soy sauce smell I'd never appreciated enough. I needed to let out a war cry, a brave roar to intimidate the beast. Instead, what emerged was a high-pitched, pathetic squeal, a sound that would have made even a house cat feel embarrassed. But then, somewhere in the pit of my gut, a flicker ignited. No. Not Kiko. Not tonight. I would not be Jollibee's newest kiddie meal. I lunged forward, the squeal still hanging in the air.
The juvenile Boapede recoiled slightly, its pincers snapping open wider, its eight eyes widening in a brief moment of surprise. It hissed, a wet, guttural gasp, clearly trying to intimidate me. But I was beyond intimidation. I was beyond reason. I swung the knife like a maniac, a wild, desperate arc that whistled through the air. The Boapede's head, restricted by the narrow opening of the broken doorframe, pulled back, dodging my frantic attacks with predictable ease. Swing! Miss! Swing! Hiss! Its scales, tough as old leather, deflected my clumsy blows. My 'sword' was blunt, its edge worn by ages of rust, and I knew it wasn't dealing any real damage. It was like a low-level mob swinging at a max-level boss, the imaginary "0 DMG" bubble flashing above the Boapede's head with every pathetic whack. Surprisingly, the rusty blade held together, not shattering against the creature's hide.
The cabinet finally gave way with a splintering crash. I stepped back startled with its sound shattering. The door slammed to the ground, unleashing the full length of the juvenile Boapede into the cramped space. The faint, yellow glow from the corner, cast by the glow stone, suddenly illuminated the full horror of the creature now completely free – its pale, human-like face with too many eyes and scarce, balding patches of hair, the two big pincers protruding out of its mouth, and the thousands of pale, human-like hands that made up its feet, all writhing in the dim light. The light caught on its python-like scales, making them shimmer with an unsettling, oily sheen. All of its eight apathetic black eyes, mirroring my frightened image, focused at me and hissed.