The room was dark, lit only by the bluish glow of the monitor. The curtains had been closed for days, and the smell of cold coffee and empty snack bags hung in the air like a war trophy.
A young man rubbed his reddened eyes, feeling the sting of twelve straight hours in front of the screen. His fingers, cramped over the mechanical keyboard, trembled slightly. But it didn't matter. None of that mattered.
"I did it," he whispered, his voice hoarse from the broken silence.
On the screen, his avatar stood over the smoking corpse of the World Devourer. The final boss of Apocalypse Hour. The game that had smashed controllers, ruined weeks for speedrunners, and humiliated the largest guilds on the planet.
Thousands tried. Hundreds made it to the final boss. Only a dozen people worldwide could claim to have defeated it.
And now he, a solo player in his usual apartment, was part of that exclusive group.
He let go of the keyboard and leaned back in his chair, letting out a nervous laugh that soon turned into a guffaw. An hour. He had spent an entire hour dodging attack patterns, memorizing every animation, every opening, every single frame where he could deal damage.
But he had done it. Without help. Without a guild. Alone.
"I have to immortalize this," he muttered, picking up his phone.
He adjusted the frame: the monitor, the corpse of the final boss, his smiling reflection on the edge of the screen.
Click.
The photo looked perfect for posting on the forums. He could already imagine the comments, the reactions, the disbelief.
"'It's fake,'" he mimicked a mocking voice as he typed. "'He must have used AI to edit it.' 'How did you do it?' 'This guy is a legend'..."
He smiled satisfied, preparing the post on his phone, when a flash on the monitor made him look up.
He blinked, confused.
A black window had appeared over the victory screen. White, immaculate letters, in a font that didn't belong to the game.
"Congratulations."
"What...?"
"You have completed the tutorial."
His heart skipped a beat. Tutorial? He had spent months, almost an entire year, clearing dungeons, solving puzzles, dying hundreds of times against every boss. And all of that was just the tutorial?
The message changed. The letters danced as if written in liquid flames, melting and reforming.
"You have unlocked a new stage."
"There is no turning back."
"Do you accept?"
Below, two options glowed in red and gold:
[YES] [YES]
"This has to be a bug," he muttered, moving the mouse to close the window.
The cursor passed through it as if it were part of the screen. He tried again. Nothing. He pressed Alt+F4, then Ctrl+Alt+Del, but the window remained unmoved, floating above everything else like a mark on the real world.
"Come on, come on..." he whispered, a knot already forming in his stomach.
Then his eyes started to sting.
It wasn't an ordinary itch. It was as if someone were driving hot needles behind his pupils, as if his very sight were burning from within. He screamed, bringing his hands to his face, falling from the chair to the floor. The world distorted into impossible colors, shapes that shouldn't exist dancing at the edge of his vision.
And then the voice came.
It wasn't a sound, not exactly. It was a direct echo in his brain, a vibration that ran through every neuron with the gravity of a thousand thunderclaps. Deep, ancient, impossible.
"You have been chosen."
The pain intensified. He felt as if his mind were expanding and collapsing at the same time.
"The fate of this world... and of all worlds... rests in your hands."
He wanted to scream, to call for help, to wake up from this nightmare. But his voice no longer belonged to him.
"I wish you the best of luck, Chosen One."
The darkness came after. A warm and heavy darkness, like an embrace that smelled of old stone and incense. A darkness that enveloped, that cradled, that erased all thought.
...
When he opened his eyes again, he felt strange. A wave of sensations invaded him all at once, so much so that he simply froze in place.
The ground where he lay was cold and hard.
Where am I?
What just happened?
Blinking in confusion, he looked around, noticing a gigantic, dark purple room. Huge, thick marble pillars rose up to support the vaulted ceiling.
Dozens of torches were lit, casting a tense, dim illumination over the entire environment.
Why does this feel so familiar?
Hearing a noise, he looked forward and saw enormous doors slide open, revealing five tiny figures.
No, they weren't tiny. He was the one who was too big.
His eyes adjusted to their outlines and he saw them more clearly.
The first was a man around his mid-thirties, wearing shiny armor with a large shield and a sword. His beard was trimmed, and his brown hair was somewhat disheveled.
Beside him was a woman in a dark blue robe holding a wooden staff with a red orb at its center. She wore a pointed hat of the same color.
Next to her was someone else. A tall man in light armor holding a golden spear.
Next to him was a man in white and blue armor holding a sword that made him feel a bit strange.
Finally, behind the group, there was a woman in nun's clothing, with her hands clasped together.
"It has been a long journey," said the man with the sword.
"But this ends today. We will defeat this beast and put an end to the dungeons, returning peace to the world," said the man with a determined look on his face, staring at him with courage and defiance.
Wait! Wait a minute!
Could this really be!?
It shouldn't be impossible!
Thoughts raced through his mind at lightning speed.
This is the introduction to "Apocalypse Hour"! How did I end up inside the game?
Before he had more time to think, the five heroes of humanity launched themselves into battle.
"Wait!" he tried to speak, but all that came out was a shrill roar that shook the entire hall.
The mage immediately raised barriers, and the hero moved to the front.