While Kiki's stream was a symphony of shrieks, the second most popular channel in the Dark Forest category was a masterclass in survival. Here, Zaneiac was holding court. He wasn't just playing the game; he was at war with it.
The scene in his live broadcast was a brutal, bloody tableau. Zane's character, his health bar a sliver of angry red, stood panting amidst a scene of carnage. The floor of the small room was littered with the corpses of four feral savages and two snarling wild dogs. Splintered wood from a shattered door was scattered across the floor, and the walls were streaked with so much grimy, dark blood you could almost smell the coppery tang through the screen. A fierce battle had just been won.
Zane leaned back from his monitor, wiping a sheen of sweat from his own forehead. A wide, exhausted, but triumphant grin—the grin of a true survivor—spread across his face. After three nights of being terrorized, humiliated, and hunted, he was finally starting to get the hang of it. He was learning the rules of this new, cruel world.
He hadn't chosen the spacious main bedroom as his holdout. That was a rookie mistake. Too big, too many windows—a deathtrap. Instead, he'd picked a smaller, more defensible storeroom. He'd learned that the monsters could wander and search, and a closed-off space drastically reduced the odds of being discovered. He'd boarded up the single window and one of the two doors, leaving himself a single, controlled escape route. As a final touch, he'd placed a rusty bear trap just inside each entrance.
His early, more creative strategies had failed spectacularly. Trying to barricade the door with a heavy cabinet had been pointless; a random 'earthquake' event had simply shaken the furniture out of the way. Hiding in a small, triangular gap behind that same cabinet had ended with a monster smashing it to pieces and dragging him out. He'd learned a critical lesson: you couldn't just hide. You had to fortify, defend, and when the time came, fight like hell.
The cost of survival had been high. His health was critical, his fortifications were in ruins, but he was alive. And dawn was close. Soon, he could leave the Dry Grassland behind and venture into the second area, the Silent Forest. He just had to make it through the night.
"Brothers, this game is… something else," he said to his mic, his voice raspy with adrenaline. "Heh. Exciting. That feeling of surviving after a battle like that? There's nothing else like it."
The chat was a roaring river of praise and vicarious relief.
> ZANE IS A GOD. I would have died ten times over.
> The traps were clutch! Pinned that last savage down just long enough.
> This night was insane, the events were non-stop. You have to be so smart to survive.
> This is a HORROR game! My heart is pounding just watching this stream!
> 'Horror games' now have a new, much higher standard in my mind.
Zane smiled, basking in the praise. He was relaxing, preparing for a quiet wait until dawn, when a strange, new sound whispered from his headphones. A distorted, ethereal voice from outside.
[Where are you…] [Come to me…]
Zane's smile vanished. His face froze. The hand holding his shovel trembled.
"You've got to be kidding me," he hissed. "Another random event? I just finished a damn war, my shovel's about to break, and I have, like, one hit point left! Does this game want me dead!?"
Complaining was useless. There was no way he could fight. He immediately ducked into a corner, hoping the darkness would hide him. This was a new event, something he hadn't encountered in the previous three nights.
His chat, naturally, was buzzing with curiosity.
> An NPC?
> Zane, you gotta go check it out! Might be a quest!
> It can talk, can't be a normal monster.
> Maybe it's not an attack? Could be someone asking for help?
> GO LOOK ZANE DON'T BE A COWARD
He considered it. Going out would be incredible for the stream. But the voice spoke again, its tone now more of a seductive, chilling command.
[Come here… to my side.]
"Nope! Absolutely not!" Zane shook his head like a rattle. That was the voice of something that lured you into an alley and harvested your organs. He quickly retreated from the ruined room into the small entrance hall. It wasn't much safer, but the front door was there. If he couldn't fight, he could run. Kiting and scraping by were time-honored gamer traditions.
The voice stopped. An unnerving silence fell over the house.
Is it gone? Zane frowned, not daring to move. He decided to just wait it out.
The adrenaline from the fight had left his throat dry. He reached for his water bottle. As he took a sip, a loud, sudden KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK on the front door made him choke, spraying water all over his desk.
"Fuck—cough cough cough—where did that—cough cough—come from!?"
His spluttering fit was met with a cascade of laughing emojis and gifts in the chat. He managed a wheezing "thanks for the sub" between coughs.
The knocking continued, steady and rhythmic, right at the main gate. Zane's eyes narrowed. This was strange. Monsters broke things. They didn't knock. It was too… polite. Too human. Could it really be an NPC? What kind of twisted game was this developer playing?
He was about to retreat back into the main house when the chat exploded. The gifts were flying, and a massive donation, a crimson banner that filled the top of the screen, appeared with a simple message: OPEN THE DOOR ZANE. I DARE YOU.
Zane bit his lip. He looked at his sliver of health. He looked at the door. He looked at the donation. It was a stupid, suicidal risk. But the anchor in him, the part that lived for the content, knew he had to do it.
"This isn't for the money, chat," he said, his voice a theatrical baritone. "This is for you. For your curiosity. This… is the solemn duty of a streamer!"
He took a deep breath, dragged his battered character to the front door, and held his nearly-broken shovel like a holy relic.
"Alright, you beautiful bastard, let's dance! I'm ready to die!"
He threw the door open.
And saw… nothing. The dark, dead forest was empty. No people. No monsters. Just the swirling fog and a cool night breeze.
"Huh? What's this?" His sharp eyes caught something on the welcome mat. A piece of paper. He picked it up. A notification popped up: Wedding Invitation.
He examined it. It was a crumpled piece of paper, covered in what looked like a child's crayon drawings of stick figures holding hands under a lopsided sun. In the middle, a single, handwritten paragraph.
'You are cordially invited to our wedding! Come find us behind the cornfields, southwest of the dry grass.'
Below it, a string of numbers: 4840.
Zane stared, completely bewildered. "A wedding? In this hellscape?" he said, dumbfounded. "This has to be a side quest, right? Who gets married in a forest that wants to eat you? And who delivers an invitation in the middle of the night!? Talk about a red flag!"
The chat agreed, but now they had a new obsession. They wanted him to go to the wedding. Zane didn't need much convincing. As a die-hard RPG player, he lived by a sacred code: side quests always come first. The world could be ending, the final boss could be waiting on his throne, but if a villager needed him to go kill ten rats, then by God, the world would have to wait. It's just how you play.
As he made the decision, a gentle, hopeful melody began to play, cutting through the oppressive atmosphere. The screen began to brighten.
A white light flashed. The fifth day had come.
PLS SUPPORT ME AND THROW POWERSTONES .