It was late—way past "just one more game" o'clock.
The moon hung heavy in the sky, veiled behind drifting clouds like some ancient eye watching the world below. Its silver glow spilled across rooftops and empty streets, painting everything in hushed shadows. The town slept.
But inside one cluttered bedroom, three teenage boys were wide awake, and peace was a foreign concept.
The walls were bathed in shifting LED lights—purple, blue, red—blinking with the rhythm of the game's battle theme. Cans rolled across the carpet. Chip crumbs decorated the floor like confetti after a boss fight. A TV screen flashed with chaos: magic blasts, explosions, enemy screams.
"AO! Cover me, I'm low!" Jay shouted, panic thick in his voice as his character zigzagged through a wave of fireballs.
"I am covering you, dummy!" AO shot back, not even blinking. "You ran in like the main character in a training arc—without the training!"
In the corner, Mike lounged back against a beanbag, reaching into an empty bag of chips.
Crunch. Crunch. Silence.
"…Guys," he said. "We're out of snacks."
Jay paused mid-roll. Slowly, ominously, he turned toward him, eyes wide with horror. "You did not just say that. Not when we're this close to beating the Demon Overlord of Level 88."
AO groaned, tossing his head back. "Bro, go get more. I can't fight a digital army and my stomach at the same time."
Mike dragged his gaze toward the window. The night outside was thick, still, like something was holding its breath. Streetlights flickered. Shadows crawled.
"Man… it's dark out there," he muttered. "Like, I-watched-a-ghost-video-and-now-I-regret-it dark."
Jay laughed, tossing a pillow at him. "You scared, bro? Want me to walk you down the driveway? Hold your hand? Maybe tuck you in after?"
Mike stood, deadpan. "Bet. Where's the money?"
AO waved vaguely at a dusty shelf. "Behind the cursed anime waifu drawing I made in seventh grade."
Mike sighed as he grabbed the crumpled bills. "I'm risking my life for snacks. This is what peak friendship looks like."
He stepped out into the night.
The silence outside hit like a punch. No crickets. No wind. No cars. Just the distant hum of power lines and the soft crunch of his sneakers on the pavement.
Every few steps, he glanced over his shoulder. No one there. Still, the street felt… wrong. Like something was watching him from the dark spaces between houses. Like the night itself was leaning in.
The local corner store stood under a buzzing, half-lit neon sign. Inside, the flickering fluorescent lights painted the aisles in cold white. The air smelled like dust, expired ramen, and freezer burn.
Mike grabbed chips, soda, and a backup bag of spicy puffs, just in case. As he turned to head to the counter, a chill skated up his spine.
That feeling.
Like breath on his neck.
He whipped around.
Nothing.
His heart pounded faster. The hairs on his arms stood up.
"…Cool," he muttered. "Definitely not haunted. I'm fine. This is fine. Just the ghost of a gamer who never beat the final level or something."
He paid fast. Didn't wait for the change. He bolted out the door like the sidewalk was lava.
The sprint home felt longer than usual.
He slammed the front door behind him, panting.
Jay and AO were still mid-battle.
"Guys…" Mike wheezed. "I swear something was watching me."
AO didn't even look away from the screen. "Was it another squirrel?"
Jay grinned. "Or maybe a floating Dorito ghost came to reclaim their sacred chips."
"I'm serious, bro. It felt off. Like… someone breathing down my neck kinda off."
AO shrugged. "You're just paranoid. Now sit your haunted self down. Boss fight's not over."
Mike hesitated, but the warm light, the noise, the comfort of the room made the fear slip away. He sat down and handed out the snacks.
The sound of sword clashes, fireballs, and Jay screaming dramatically filled the room once more.
"AO! This dude plays like a blindfolded NPC!"
"Shut up, monkey."
"Monkey? That's racist."
Laughter exploded in the room.
Then—
Glitch.
The screen blinked. Glitched. Colors bled out, replaced by a growing white glow at the center.
All three froze.
"…Yo," AO said slowly, leaning forward. "What was that?"
The game began to distort. Pixel by pixel, the screen dissolved. The music slowed, twisted—then reversed. Backwards. Broken.
Jay tapped the console like it owed him rent. "It's just lag. Chill."
He hit the power button.
Nothing.
The light spread. The room dimmed. The glow wasn't from the TV anymore.
It was everywhere.
A low hum filled the room—no, not a hum. A voice, whispering from somewhere beyond the screen.
"wake up."
AO stood up fast. "Nope. Nope. This is some cursed VHS type stuff. I'm out."
Mike backed away. "That light is getting brighter! Yo, what does it mean by wake up!"
The sound grew louder. A pressure built behind their eyes.
And then—
FLASH.
A blinding white pulse swallowed the room.
Their screams vanished.
The house was silent.
Somewhere Else…
Mike opened his eyes.
Everything felt… wrong.
The air was warm. Sweet. Soft like the inside of a dream.
He tried to sit up—couldn't. His limbs were too short. Too slow. He looked down.
Tiny hands.
He blinked again—and saw her.
A woman. Long hair, kind eyes. Tears streaming down her cheeks. She held him close, her voice cracking with joy.
"...My baby…"
His heart stopped.
He was a baby.
Across the world, AO was mid-existential crisis. Baby edition.
His screams were incoherent to the outside world, but inside, he was shouting:
"WHAT IS THIS?! WHY CAN'T I MOVE?! WHO TOOK MY LEGS?!"
Servants surrounded him, smiling brightly.
"He's strong! Look at those lungs! The Sheen family has a real fighter!"
AO screamed harder.
Jay, as usual, was the calmest of the three—even as a newborn.
Inside his head, he simply thought:
"Okay. This is happening. Isekai. Reincarnation. Got it. Honestly? Kinda hype."
Their bodies were new, fragile, helpless. But their minds?
Their minds still held everything. The games. The friendship. The old world.
And deep inside the trio's soul… something stirred.
A whisper. A presence. Ancient.
Sleeping.
Watching.
Far beyond the stars…
In a realm untouched by time, three ancient forces stirred.
The Forbidden Gods.
Creation.
Time.
And the Moon.
They had slumbered for eons.
Now—they were awake. Reborn.
And fate had chosen the most unlikely vessels.
Three boys.
Gamers.
Losers.
Brothers.
They weren't just reincarnated.
They were marked.
Chosen.
For a war that never ended.