The blue light of the monitor was the only thing alive in that room.

  It pulsed, cold, reflecting off the peeling walls, the books stacked haphazardly, the clothes scattered on the floor like the remains of lost battles. Every change on the screen cast shadows that stretched and contracted, as if the room itself breathed with the game.

  Steve saw nothing beyond the screen.

  The world had shrunk to fit there.

  The boss filled 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 the creature took made the digital ground tremble. Each strike sent vibrations through Steve’s headphones, straight into his chest, his bones, his heart.

  The monster’s health bar trembled.

  Slightly.

  Almost nothing.

  A thread.

  Steve felt his entire body tense. Shoulders raised, jaw locked, fingers numb from pressing the keyboard. His eyes burned, red, dry, forcing himself not to blink. If he blinked, he would die. If he relaxed, he’d lose everything.

  Sweat ran down the sides of his face, dripped along his neck, soaking the collar of his old t-shirt. His brown curls stuck to his forehead, but he didn’t brush them aside. Not now. Not at this moment.

  Breathing felt optional.

  The boss raised the flaming sword.

  The orange glow filled the entire screen.

  — Now… — Steve muttered, voice barely audible, crushed between clenched teeth.

  The attack came.

  A frame before impact, he dodged.

  The world slowed for a microsecond. Just enough for Steve to feel that familiar rush — the sensation of total control. No math, no screams, no failure. Just perfect reaction.

  He activated the skill.

  BOOM.

  The virtual explosion engulfed everything. Particles, fire, numbers jumping across the screen. The colossus roared, a deep metallic sound that shook the headphones and vibrated straight into Steve’s bones.

  The health bar hit zero.

  For a second, there was silence.

  Then, the victory music.

  Steve exhaled all at once, as if he had been underwater for minutes. His heart pounded so hard he could feel it in his ears. His hands shook.

  He jumped to his feet.

  — I DID IT! — he shouted, voice cracking. — DAMN IT, I DID IT!

  The chair spun back, hitting the bed. Steve stumbled forward, laughing, running a hand through his sweaty hair. His whole body vibrated. That feeling… that feeling was rare. It was clean. It was good.

  For a few seconds, he had won something.

  — Finally… — he muttered, almost laughing at himself.

  Then reality knocked on the door. Literally.

  — Hey, Steve!

  A thick, dragging voice cut across the hallway like a hot breath of old alcohol. The door latch turned with too much force, banging against the wood.

  His father appeared on the threshold.

  Eyes half-closed, shirt wrinkled, body swaying slightly back and forth. The smell arrived before the words.

  — Turn that junk off in ten minutes, — he said, pointing a crooked finger at the monitor. — Or I’ll break your toy.

  Steve didn’t take his eyes off the screen.

  — Okay, Dad! — he replied quickly, loud enough to be heard. — Ten minutes, no problem!

  He knew it was a lie. He knew he had already passed the limit. But in that room, under that blue light, the lie seemed small.

  His father muttered something incomprehensible and left, heavy footsteps fading down the hall.

  Steve laughed again.

  — Ten minutes… — he muttered. — Always ten minutes.

  A head appeared in the hallway for a moment.

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  His younger brother, thin, dark circles too deep for a thirteen-year-old, watched with a tired expression. Not anger. Not envy. Just exhaustion.

  — This house is full of lunatics… — he muttered to himself.

  Then disappeared.

  Steve didn’t hear him. Or pretended not to.

  He spun the chair back, sat down, still feeling light. The headphones let out a delicate sound, almost polite for this environment.

  Notification: Friend Request — User: Nesin

  Steve raised an eyebrow.

  A crooked smile appeared on his lips.

  — Knew it — he muttered. — That final combo was too good to go unnoticed.

  He accepted.

  The message appeared almost instantly.

  Nesin: “Wow. Your timing was insane. Want to team up? Need help on a boss.”

  Steve leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms behind his head for a second. Pride filled his chest. This… this he understood.

  Steve: “Sure. Should be quick.”

  A few seconds of silence.

  Nesin: “Really? Now I’m curious.”

  Co-op mode loaded.

  A new arena appeared on screen: a colossal hall, broken pillars, lava dripping down the walls like open veins. Orange light flickered, reflecting on Steve’s face, blending with the blue 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 it knew every frame of the game, every invisible interval.

  In seconds, the colossus fell.

  Steve blinked.

  — …Shit — he muttered. — That was way too fast.

  Steve: “Did you really need my help?”

  The reply came with calculated delay.

  Nesin: “Of course not ??”

  Nesin: “Just wanted to show off. And prove I’m better.”

  Steve let out a short laugh through his nose.

  He swallowed his pride easily. That was part of the game too.

  Nesin: “But I also wanted to invite you to something else.”

  Nesin: “A new game. Super exclusive.”

  A link blinked on the screen.

  Steve hovered the mouse over it… and paused.

  The clock in the corner of the monitor read 7:19 AM.

  His stomach sank.

  — Shit.

  The real world hit all at once, heavy as a punch.

  He ripped off the headphones, grabbed his backpack, shoved books inside without looking. The room seemed smaller now. Tighter. Dirtier.

  He ran down the stairs.

  The house woke in its usual chaos: loud, 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.

  — At the bar, — his sister replied without looking up. — Again.

  Steve nodded.

  He grabbed the backpack. Opened the door.

  Street air hit his face like a shock.

  He started walking.

  The game victory already felt distant.

  Steve walked to the bus station, backpack slung over one shoulder, bumping lightly against his back with each step. The sky was gray, heavy, as if the day had already woken tired. The city noise grew as he neared the main avenue: impatient horns, shouting vendors, hurried footsteps colliding.

  He kept his eyes down. Always did.

  Not out of shyness. Out of survival.

  Then a scream cut the air.

  — MY CARD! THIEF!

  Steve looked up in the reflection.

  A woman had just gotten off a motorcycle parked on the sidewalk. Still adjusting her helmet when a man emerged from the crowd like a living shadow, too fast to notice before impact. His hand plunged into her bag and pulled out her wallet.

  She froze for a moment.

  Then panicked.

  — MY CARD! MY CARD! — she screamed, spinning, eyes lost, seeking help that wasn’t there.

  People around moved aside. One step left. Another right. Pretended not to see.

  Steve stopped.

  Before the woman could react, another figure appeared from nowhere. A second thief. A quick, dirty smile. The cellphone vanished from her hand like a cheap trick.

  — NO! — she yelled, running after him.

  Then she noticed.

  Behind her, where the motorcycle had been, a third man was already mounting it, turning the key. The engine roared. The bike sped off, taking the last shred of stability from that moment.

  The woman stood alone in the middle of the street.

  Helmet fell with a dry thud. She breathed fast, face red, eyes wide. Looked around. People. Many people.

  No outstretched hand.

  — YOU IDIOTS! — she screamed, voice cracking. — YOU SAW IT! YOU SAW IT!

  Some eyes looked away. Others stared for half a second, then vanished.

  A young man stepped forward.

  He smiled.

  — Devil? — he said, opening his arms. — Yes, proudly. And you, dear… are you Lilith?

  The woman turned to him, pure hatred in her eyes.

  — Shut up.

  His smile widened.

  — But tell me — he continued, scanning her body without shame — what would we gain in return for helping, huh?

  He whistled softly.

  — Not bad body.

  The air shifted.

  The woman didn’t think. Didn’t calculate. Wasn’t afraid.

  — YOU IDIOT!

  She charged.

  They collided, stumbling, hands pulling at clothes, screams mixing. The crowd parted, not to help, but to watch better.

  Steve looked away.

  His heart raced. His feet wanted to move. His body wanted to act. His mind screamed: do something!

  But fear won.

  He kept walking.

  Each step felt heavier than the last.

  At the station, the bus already waited, doors open, people jostling to get in. Steve climbed aboard, crushed between strangers, sweat, the smell of rush and irritation.

  Inside, chaos had another form.

  An old woman clutched her cane with both hands. Trembled. Legs failing visibly. She looked from one young person to another, pleading.

  — My children… — she said weakly. — Please… I can’t stand…

  One young man, seated, didn’t lift his head from his phone.

  — Don’t bother me, old meat, — he replied. — Move.

  The old woman swallowed.

  — Help me… — she insisted. — I’m like your mother…

  A girl, seated further back, lifted her foot and kicked the cane.

  The woman fell.

  The old woman fell too.

  The sound made some laugh.

  — Damn old hag — said another. — Why don’t you just die?

  Something broke.

  The old woman struggled to stand, tears and rage in her eyes. She swung the cane, trying to reach the youths.

  — Brats! — she screamed. — Die! Die all of you!

  Laughter.

  Steve felt his stomach churn.

  He wanted to rise. To scream. To grab someone by the collar.

  But fear pinned his back to the seat.

  The bus moved on.

  The world moved on too.

  When he got off near the university, the silence felt too loud. He walked straight into the classroom and sat down.

  The professor spoke.

  A lot.

  — Pay attention — he said, pacing back and forth. — This will be on the test.

  No one listened.

  Phones glowed like small blue monitors, like Steve’s room. Games. Social media. Short videos.

  — Pay attention! — the professor repeated.

  Nothing.

  Until he stopped.

  Took a deep breath.

  — I demanded respect in my class!

  A student laughed.

  — Stop hammering us with your boring class.

  The air thickened.

  The professor turned slowly.

  — Boring is you — he replied, harsh voice. — And your whore of a mother offering herself to all the teachers for you to pass.

  The room exploded.

  — WHAT DID YOU SAY, YOU SHIT?

  — Said what I heard!

  A chair flew.

  The student advanced.

  Chairs fell, desks flipped, screams filled the space. Students filmed. Livestreamed. Laughed.

  Steve stood.

  Went to the door.

  A hand pushed him against the wall.

  — So, Steve… — whispered a classmate, pressing her body against his. — Don’t you want to… travel here with me?

  She opened buttons on his shirt with firm fingers. Brought her lips close. Steve’s heart seemed to leap from his mouth. He didn’t move. Sweated. Shook.

  The zipper slid 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, almost dirty relief. Turning his face, he met the principal’s gaze. Cold. Evaluating.

  In the hallway, passing the office, he heard screams.

  — SCREAM MORE, YOU BITCH!

  The principal’s voice.

  Steve felt a chill down his spine.

  He ran.

  Outside, he found John.

  — What’s up, champ — said his friend, smiling.

  — I’m dead — Steve replied, hollow.

  — What?

  — The principal’s going to kill me…

  John laughed.

  — Relax. Everyone knows you don’t have guts for that.

  They laughed together.

  Then John left.

  Steve headed to the hospital.

  Inside, the smell of despair was constant. People begged. Doctors ignored.

  — Pay me and I’ll see them now — said one.

  — You’re already paid! — shouted a father holding his injured daughter.

  — Not enough — replied the doctor. — I work when I want.

  Steve passed.

  Found his mother’s doctor.

  — How is she? — he asked.

  — Nothing has changed — replied coldly. — Keep paying… or discard.

  Steve felt the floor vanish.

  — I won’t give up on her.

  — Waste of money — said the doctor, leaving.

  Steve punched.

  The fist was locked.

  Pain.

  Floor.

  Kicks.

  Blood.

  — Lick my shoe — said the doctor.

  Steve obeyed.

  Then he entered the room.

  His mother breathed through machines.

  He sat.

  Rested his head on her body.

  And cried.

  Silently.

  Broken.

  Steve didn’t know how long he stayed there, head on her chest, listening to the machines beep.

  The tears dried.

  The emptiness remained.

  The phone vibrated in his pocket.

  He picked it up. Screen lit.

  Nesin

  The link was still there.

  www.hptt.lordoffantasi.com

  Curiosity and emptiness mixing in his heart, he clicked the link, unaware his life was about to change forever.