The demon lord's body dissolved into smoke, his massive blade clattering to the ground before shattering into a thousand glowing fragments.
The battlefield, which just seconds ago had been chaos and fire, fell eerily quiet.
I stood there, swordless, still catching my breath, sweat plastering my bangs to my forehead. My knees shook like Jell-O at a kid's birthday party.
And then… the familiar ding!
A loot chest appeared in the middle of the charred floor. Gleaming, golden, sparkling like it had just been polished by angels with OCD.
"Oh thank god," I muttered, straightening up. "Finally. End the raid, grab the loot, get out."
Gamer instincts took over. I jogged toward the chest, well, jogged and tripped over some rubble, caught myself with a squeal, then pretended it was part of the act.
The NPC soldiers didn't even question it. They were still chanting "Sir Leon! Sir Leon!" like I'd just won the Superbowl.
I shoved open the chest. The light blinded me for a second, then the window popped up in front of me, transparent blue, classic game UI.
[Congratulations! You have slain the Demon Lord, Arkham the Undying.]
[Rewards: Demon Fang Sword, 10,000 Gold, 2 Skill Books, 1 Rare Armor Piece.]
My eyes sparkled. "Yes! Daddy's rich!" I squealed, then remembered, oh right, I'm daddy now. I slapped a manly grunt on top. "Ahem. Good loot. Very… heroic."
I swiped the items into my inventory with practiced clicks. The familiar panels, the tidy rows of icons, it all felt normal. Safe. Routine.
"Okay, guild hall next," I whispered, pulling up my main menu. "Turn in quest, grab achievements, spam brag screenshots, then sleep in my real bed and forget how I screamed like a maniac the whole fight."
The menu expanded before me. Inventory, Skills, Map, Settings…
My heart skipped.
Where's…?
I scrolled. Flipped. Re-scrolled.
No. Log. Out.
I blinked. Refreshed. Closed. Re-opened. Rubbed my eyes. "Okay. Okay, maybe it's bugged." I hit settings, looked everywhere, even smacked the panel with my hand. Still nothing.
The other soldiers were cheering, clapping each other's backs, carrying their wounded like a victory parade. None of them had panic on their faces. No one screamed about missing log out buttons.
"Uh…" My voice cracked. "Hey guys, quick question." I raised my hand like I was in math class. "Where's your log out option?"
One soldier squinted at me. "Log out?"
"Yeah." I forced a laugh. "You know, the button that lets you go home? The real world? Back to your cat videos and instant noodles?"
He tilted his head like a confused puppy. "This… is the real world."
My stomach dropped. "No, no, no, no, no."
I flicked through menus again, desperate. Inventory still there. Map still glowing. Skills all listed. But no log out.
And then, like a bad horror reveal, I noticed something else.
The soldiers weren't stiff anymore. They weren't repeating scripted lines. Their eyes flicked around. They adjusted armor straps. They fidgeted with weapons. They were breathing.
Breathing.
NPCs don't breathe.
"Oh my god," I whispered. "You're real."
The healer from earlier tilted her head, soft smile on her lips. "Of course we are, Sir Leon."
"No, no, no. You're not supposed to be real. You're supposed to give me buff spells and complain about mana."
Another soldier blinked at me. "Are you… feeling unwell?"
I laughed nervously, my voice too high-pitched. "Unwell? No. Totally fine. Perfectly fine. Just wondering why I'm stuck inside a video game body with pecs that could crack walnuts."
I slapped my own chest for emphasis and immediately regretted it. Yep. Solid muscle. Not mine. Definitely not mine.
The menus still floated around me, translucent blue windows hovering at a tap's reach. My fingers swiped across them like second nature, but when I glanced down at my hands, they weren't my hands. Big. Veiny. Calloused. Man hands.
I swallowed hard.
Panic rose like a tsunami. My breathing quickened. "This is just a glitch," I told myself out loud. "It's fine. It's just some weird event patch. Yeah. Limited-time immersion event. Very cutting-edge. They'll fix it in the morning."
Except, what morning?
The air was cold. I could smell the ash, feel the weight of my sweat-soaked armor, hear the wind howling through broken stone towers. All five senses screamed real.
And then the worst realization hit me like a truck full of overdue bills.
If the game was real now… so was I.
In this body.
I froze. My hands shook. Slowly, very slowly, I looked down. Past the armor. Past the belt. Past the...
I gulped.
Okay. Okay. Only one way to know for sure.
This time, I'm gonna be so sure. Just another peek. Just a confirmation peek.
I darted into the corner of the battlefield, behind a broken pillar, shielding myself from the soldiers' eyes. My heart thundered in my ears. My fingers fumbled with the armor straps.
"This is fine," I whispered. "This is normal. Just a body check. Perfectly scientific."
The plate shifted. The belt unbuckled. My trembling hands pushed down,
And. Yep.
There. Was. Something. Still attached.
"OH MY GOD."
The shout echoed across the entire battlefield. Soldiers turned. The healer blinked at me. The demon lord's corpse fragments probably snickered from beyond the grave.
I yanked my armor back up and slammed my hands over my face. "No, no, no, no, no. This isn't happening. I'm not… I can't… oh god it is attached..."
One soldier approached carefully. "Sir Leon…?"
I peeked between my fingers, eyes wide, breath ragged. "I have a...." My voice cracked again. "...a situation."
The soldier frowned. "Is it grave?"
"Grave?!" I squealed. "Try existential!"