The blue light from the monitor was the only living thing in that room.
It pulsed, cold, reflecting on the peeling walls, on the haphazardly stacked books, on the clothes thrown on the floor like remains of lost battles. Each change on the screen cast shadows that stretched and contracted, as if the room breathed along with the game.
Steve saw nothing beyond the screen.
The world had shrunk to fit there.
The boss occupied almost the entire scene: a colossus of steel and fire, with cracked plates on its chest and incandescent eyes that moved like living embers. Each step of the creature made the digital ground tremble. Each blow made the headphones vibrate against Steve's ears, sending impacts directly to his chest, to his bones, to his heart.
The monster's health bar trembled.
Little.
Almost nothing.
A thread.
Steve felt his entire body rigid. Shoulders raised, jaw locked, fingers numb from pressing the keyboard so hard. His eyes burned, red, dry, forcing themselves not to blink. If he blinked, he would die. If he relaxed, he would lose everything.
Sweat ran down the side of his face, descended his neck, soaked the collar of his old t-shirt. The brown curls stuck to his forehead, but he didn't push them away. Not now. Not at this moment.
Breathing seemed optional.
The boss raised the flaming sword.
The orange glow filled the entire screen.
"Now…" Steve murmured, his voice almost soundless, crushed between clenched teeth.
The attack came.
One frame before impact, he dodged.
The world slowed down for a microsecond. Enough for Steve to feel that familiar discharge—the feeling of absolute control. No bills, no screams, no failure. Just perfect reaction.
He activated the ability.
BOOM.
The virtual explosion swallowed everything. Particles, fire, numbers jumping across the screen. The colossus roared, a deep, metallic sound that went through the headphones and vibrated directly in Steve's bones.
The health bar zeroed out.
For a second, there was no sound.
Then, the victory music.
Steve let out all the air at once, as if he had spent minutes underwater. His heart beat so hard he felt his own pulse in his ears. His hands trembled.
Then he jumped up.
"I DID IT!" he shouted, his voice breaking. "FUCK, I DID IT!"
The chair spun backward, hitting the bed. Steve took two clumsy steps, laughing, running his hand through his sweaty hair. His entire body vibrated. That feeling… that feeling was rare. It was clean. It was good.
For a few seconds, he won something.
"Finally…" he murmured, almost laughing at himself.
That's when reality knocked on the door.
Literally.
"Hey, Steve!"
The voice came thick, slurred, crossing the hallway like a hot breath of old alcohol. The door latch turned with too much force, banging against the wood.
His father appeared in the doorway.
Half-closed eyes, wrinkled shirt, body swaying slightly back and forth. The smell arrived before the words.
"Turn off that crap in ten minutes," he said, pointing a crooked finger at the monitor. "Or I'll break that toy of yours."
Steve didn't take his eyes off the screen.
"Okay, Dad!" he answered quickly, loud enough to be heard. "Ten minutes is plenty!"
He knew it was a lie. He knew he had already passed the limit. But in that room, in that blue light, the lie seemed small.
His father grumbled something incomprehensible and left, his heavy steps disappearing down the hallway.
Steve laughed again.
"Ten minutes…" he murmured. "Always ten minutes."
In the hallway, a head appeared for an instant.
The younger brother, skinny, dark circles too deep for someone thirteen years old, watched the scene with a tired expression. Not anger. Not envy. Just exhaustion.
"This house is full of crazy people…" he said, more to himself than to Steve.
He disappeared soon after.
Steve didn't hear. Or pretended not to hear.
He spun the chair back, sat down, still feeling his body light. The headphones released a delicate sound, almost too polite for that environment.
Notification: Friend Request — User: Nesin
Steve raised an eyebrow.
A crooked smile appeared on his lips.
"I knew it," he murmured. "The final combo was too beautiful to go unnoticed."
He accepted.
The message appeared almost instantly.
Nesin: "Wow. Your timing was insane. Want to team up? I need help with a boss."
Steve stretched in the chair, crossing his arms behind his head for a second. Pride inflated his chest. This… this he understood.
Steve: "I accept. It'll be quick."
A few seconds of silence.
Nesin: "Really? Now I'm curious."
Cooperative mode loaded.
The new arena appeared on the screen: a colossal hall, broken pillars, lava dripping down the walls like open veins. The orange light flickered, reflecting on Steve's face, mixing with the blue of the HUD.
He advanced without hesitation.
But something was wrong.
The attacks came faster. More precise. The boss barely had time to react. Nesin's avatar moved as if she knew every frame of the game, every invisible interval.
In seconds, the colossus fell.
Steve blinked.
"…Shit," he murmured. "That was too fast."
Steve: "Did you really need my help?"
The response came with a calculated delay.
Nesin: "Of course not 😂"
Nesin: "I just wanted to show off. And prove I'm better."
Steve let out a short laugh through his nose.
He swallowed his pride without difficulty. That was also part of the game.
Nesin: "But I also wanted to invite you to something else."
Nesin: "A new game. Super exclusive."
A link flashed on the screen.
Steve moved the mouse to it… and stopped.
The clock in the corner of the monitor read 7:19 AM.
His stomach sank.
"Shit."
The real world came back all at once, heavy as a punch.
He yanked off the headphones, grabbed his backpack, stuffed books in without looking. The room seemed smaller now. Tighter. Dirtier.
He ran down the stairs.
The house woke up the usual way: chaotic, noisy, tired. His sister rolled her eyes while trying to organize the younger siblings. Weak coffee. Stale bread. Silence where there shouldn't be.
"Where's Dad?" Steve asked, already knowing the answer.
"At the bar," his sister answered, without looking up. "Again."
Steve nodded.
He grabbed his backpack. Opened the door.
The street air hit his face like a shock.
And he started walking.
The game's victory already seemed distant.
Steve walked toward the bus station with his backpack hanging from one shoulder, lightly hitting his back with each step. The sky was gray, heavy, as if the day had already woken up tired. The city noise grew as he approached the main avenue: impatient horns, vendors shouting prices, hurried footsteps colliding with each other.
He kept his eyes low. He always did this.
Not out of shyness. For survival.
That's when a scream cut through the air.
"MY CARD! THIEF!"
Steve raised his face reflexively.
A woman had just gotten off a motorcycle parked near the sidewalk. She was still adjusting her helmet when a man emerged from the crowd like a living shadow, too fast to be noticed before impact. His hand dove into her purse and came out with the wallet.
She froze for a second.
Then panicked.
"MY CARD! MY CARD!" she screamed, spinning in place, her gaze lost, looking for help where there was none.
The people around stepped aside. One step to the side. Another forward. They pretended not to see.
Steve stopped.
Before the woman could react, another figure appeared out of nowhere. A second thief. A quick, dirty smile. The cell phone disappeared from her hand like a cheap trick.
"NO!" she screamed, running after him.
That's when she realized.
Behind her, where the motorcycle was, a third man was already mounting the seat, turning the key. The engine roared. The motorcycle took off, taking away the last remnant of stability from that instant.
The woman stood in the middle of the street.
Alone.
The helmet fell to the ground with a dry sound. She breathed quickly, her face red, eyes wide. She looked around. People. Many people.
No extended hand.
"YOU IMBECILES!" she screamed, her voice breaking. "YOU DEVILS! YOU SAW! YOU SAW!"
Some looks turned away. Others stared for half a second and disappeared.
A young man stepped forward.
He smiled.
"Devil?" he said, opening his arms. "Yes, with great pride. And you, dear… are you Lilith?"
The woman turned to him with pure hatred in her eyes.
"Shut up."
His smile widened.
"But tell me," he continued, running his eyes over her body without shame, "what would we gain in return for helping, huh?"
He whistled low.
"You do have a good body."
The air changed.
The woman didn't think. Didn't calculate. Had no fear.
"YOU IDIOT!"
She advanced.
The two collided, stumbling, hands pulling clothes, screams mixing. The crowd opened space, not to help, but to watch better.
Steve looked away.
His heart beat too fast. His feet wanted to move. His body wanted to go. His mind screamed do something.
But fear won.
He started walking again.
Each step seemed heavier than the last.
At the station, the bus was already stopped, doors open, people pushing to get in. Steve got on with them, crushed between strange bodies, sweat, the smell of rush and irritation.
Inside, chaos had another form.
A little old lady held a cane with both hands. She trembled. Her legs visibly failed. She looked from one young person to another, begging.
"My children…" she said, her voice weak. "Please… I can't stand…"
One of the young men, seated, didn't even look up from his cell phone.
"Don't disturb, old meat," he answered. "Get out of my face."
The old woman swallowed hard.
"Help me…" she insisted. "I'm like your mother…"
A girl, seated further back, raised her foot and kicked the cane.
It fell to the floor.
The old woman fell with it.
The sound of the impact made some laugh.
"Damn old woman," said another. "Why don't you just die?"
Something broke.
The old woman got up with difficulty, her eyes full of tears and hatred. She picked up the cane from the floor and started swinging it in the air, trying to reach the young people.
"Brats!" she screamed. "Die! Die all of you!"
Laughter.
Steve felt his stomach turn.
He wanted to stand up. Wanted to scream. Wanted to pull someone by the collar.
But fear glued his back to the seat.
The bus continued.
So did the world.
When he got off near the university, the silence seemed too loud. He walked straight to the classroom, entered, sat down.
The professor spoke.
Spoke a lot.
"Pay attention," he said, walking from one side to the other. "This will be on the test."
Nobody listened.
Cell phones glowed like small blue monitors, just like the one in Steve's room. Games. Social media. Short videos.
"Pay attention!" the professor repeated.
Nothing.
Until he stopped.
Took a deep breath.
"I asked for respect in my class!"
A student laughed.
"Stop hammering us with your shit class."
The air became dense.
The professor turned slowly.
"Shit is you," he responded, his voice hard. "And your whore mother who offers herself to all the professors so you can pass the year."
The room exploded.
"WHAT DID YOU SAY, YOU SHIT?"
"I said what you heard!"
The chair flew.
The student advanced.
Chairs fell, tables turned, screams filled the space. The professor defended himself as best he could. Students filmed. Live streams. Laughter.
Steve got up.
Went to the door.
A hand pushed him against the wall.
"So, Steve…" a classmate whispered, pressing her body against his. "Don't you want to travel here with me?"
She unbuttoned his shirt with firm fingers. Brought her lips close. Steve's heart seemed to want to jump out of his mouth. He didn't move. Sweated. Trembled.
The zipper came down a little.
Door opened.
"ENOUGH!"
The principal entered with two security guards.
Silence.
Everyone was dismissed.
Steve closed his shirt with trembling hands, feeling a strange relief, almost dirty. When he turned his face, he met the principal's gaze. Cold. Evaluating.
In the hallway, passing by the office, he heard screams.
"SCREAM MORE, YOU WHORE!"
The principal's voice.
Steve felt a chill run down his spine.
He ran.
Outside, he found John.
"What's up, champ," his friend said, smiling.
"I'm dead," Steve answered, empty.
"What?"
"The principal's going to kill me…"
John laughed.
"Relax. Everyone knows you don't have the guts for those things."
They laughed together.
Then John left.
Steve headed to the hospital.
Inside, the smell of desperation was constant. People begged. Doctors ignored.
"Pay me and I'll see you now," said one of them.
"You're already paid!" shouted a father with his injured daughter in his arms.
"It's not enough," the doctor replied. "I work when I want."
Steve passed by.
Found his mother's doctor.
"How is she?" he asked.
"Nothing's changed," he answered coldly. "Keep paying… or dispose."
Steve felt the ground disappear.
"I won't give up on her."
"Waste of money," the doctor said, leaving.
Steve punched.
His fist was stopped.
Pain.
Floor.
Kicks.
Blood.
"Lick my shoe," the doctor said.
Steve obeyed.
Then he entered the room.
His mother breathed through machines.
He sat.
Rested his head on her body.
And cried.
Silent.
Broken.
---
Steve didn't know how long he stayed there, his head resting on his mother's chest, listening to the beep of the machines.
The tears dried. The emptiness remained.
His cell phone vibrated in his pocket.
He grabbed it. Illuminated screen.
Nesin
The link was still there.
www.hptt.lordoffantasi.com
With curiosity in his heart wanting to know about the link that had been sent, he clicked on the link on his cell phone, mixed with feelings of curiosity and emptiness, little knowing that his life was about to change forever.