8:59 p.m.
The holographic screen hung in the air, inches from Atlas's face.
NEW MISSION: Kill or Be Killed
Target: Murderer — Reward: 100 XP
His throat tightened. "This… this can't be real."
The man in the alley shifted his weight, knife low, eyes flat.
Atlas's thumb moved before his brain caught up. He tapped YES.
A collapsible staff snapped into his hands with a clean metallic click. Compact baton length, dense weight, textured grip. It felt solid. Too solid.
Another line appeared, hovering above the first.
+1 XP: Class weapon equipped.
A holographic screen appeared beside the killer.
"He—he has a screen too…?"
The killer's mouth twitched. "You gonna play hero?"
Atlas took one step back. "I don't want to fight… I'm not looking for any trouble."
"Well— YOU FOUND IT!"
The man lunged.
Atlas raised the staff by reflex. Steel met steel. The knife scraped along the shaft and slid off. Shock ran up his arms. He stumbled, reset his stance, hands clumsy.
"Shit," Atlas told himself. "Keep him off you! Don't freeze!"
The app flashed again at the edge of his vision:
TIP: Successful blocks open a window for counterattacks.
"Window," he breathed.
The knife came in quick. Atlas snapped the staff across the blade, knocked it aside, but the killer held his grip on the knife, Atlas then drove the other end of his staff into the man's ribs. A dull thud. The killer grunted and swung wild. Atlas ducked, swung up, clipped the elbow, then backpedaled fast.
His heart pounded. Every breath felt hot.
The killer circled again, knife weaving. "Bad day to be brave, kid."
"I'm NOT letting you stab me!" Atlas replied, voice steadier now.
The man rushed again. Atlas met him mid-step, staff horizontal, bracing the strike and shoving forward. The knife scraped away. Atlas stepped in, pivoted, drove the short end into the stomach. The killer folded a little, then came back with a slash that grazed Atlas's sleeve.
The app flashed:
COUNTER READY — Increased impact on next strike.
Atlas snapped a jab to the collarbone. The killer spat in pain, stumbled, then slammed his shoulder forward. They collided. The knife flashed. Atlas twisted hard, staff between them, blade skittering off the shaft.
"DROP IT," Atlas said, breath ragged.
"Make me…"
He kicked at Atlas's knee. Pain shot up Atlas's leg. He fell to one hand, rolled, and came up into a guard just as the knife stabbed down. The staff caught it a hair from his face.
"Move," Atlas told himself. "Now."
He shoved with everything he had, threw the knife hand wide, and hammered the staff across the jaw. The crack sent the killer reeling to the wall.
+10 XP: Solid counter.
Atlas didn't follow. He backed up, staff leveled, eyes darting between the knife, the man's feet, the alley mouth. A body lay still behind the killer. The red around it was spreading.
"This… isn't a part of the game," he muttered. "It can't be..."
Another prompt overlaid the view:
FINISHER AVAILABLE — Bonus: +50 XP.
Atlas froze. "No."
The killer snarled and came again—clumsy now, angry, still lethal. Atlas sidestepped, snagged the forearm with the shaft, and wrenched down. The knife clattered. It skidded away to the gutter.
The man dove for it on instinct.
Atlas moved first.
He planted the rubberized tip on the pavement, vaulted, and drove both feet into the man's shoulder. They crashed apart. The killer hit the ground. Atlas landed hard, stumbled, then reset with the staff between them.
The man clawed toward the knife.
Atlas's hands tightened. "Stop—!"
The killer grabbed the blade, rolled to a knee, and lunged.
Atlas swung. The staff smacked the wrist, the knife flew, and the follow-through cracked against the temple.
Silence. Then a low, staggering breath.
The man slumped to his side.
Atlas's arms shook. His chest heaved. The alley felt like it was pressing in.
The holographic screen washed over him:
MISSION COMPLETE — +100 XP
200/200 EXP Achieved!
LEVEL UP!
Vanguard Level: 2
NEW SKILL: Rush Guard — Brief forward burst with partial block. Cooldown 20 seconds.
He stared at the text until it blurred. The staff felt heavy now, like guilt had weighed in.
From the far end of the alley, a figure paused at the corner—just a silhouette, watching.
Atlas straightened, lifted the staff slightly. "Hey! Did you—"
The silhouette flinched… and disappeared around the brick.
"Fuck!"
Atlas swallowed. He looked back at the body on the ground, then at his hands. The staff's metal gleamed, unmarred.
His phone buzzed in his palm.
GROUP CHAT — 7 New Messages.
Rei: Bro I just completed a "silent tag" quest lmao
Mira: I helped a guy with a stroller. It actually felt nice.
Rei: Tell me your XP points, either of you level up yet?
Atlas: …I'm outside. Something happened…
Rei: You okay?
Atlas stared at the text box, thumb hovering. He typed, erased, typed again.
Atlas: I— I just killed someone…
Three dots appeared.
Rei: Are you on the text based RPG now? Is that happened when you leveled up?
Atlas glanced at the alley mouth. The silhouette was gone. The knife lay near the gutter. The body didn't move.
"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! What's going on?! What did I do?! Dammit." Atlas was losing it.
Mira: That's an intense start for the first level up quest.
He typed: Guys…no seriously…I— I really did just kill someone…
Rei: Dude.
Mira: Atlas, where are you?
Atlas: Heading back to my dorm room…I think someone saw me…I— I was just defending myself…he came at me with a knife…
Rei: Do you need a us to come over?
He didn't reply he was in too much of a panic.
He slid the staff into his inventory with a thought. It flickered and vanished, leaving his hands empty. The sudden absence made him shiver.
He stepped to the alley's edge, peered down the street. No one. He forced his legs to move.
Halfway across the sidewalk, the app pulsed again. New lines layered across the air.
DAILY BONUS: Streak +1 — +10 XP
STATS UPDATED — Points Available: 7 Allocate points?
Atlas clenched his jaw. "You want me to celebrate?!"
He tapped NO, shoved the phone into his pocket, and walked. Every sound jumped out at him—the scrape of his shoe, the soft thud of his steps. He kept looking over his shoulder even when it made him feel ridiculous.
At the corner, his phone buzzed again.
NEW MESSAGE: Tutorial — Class: Vanguard
— Rush Guard: Tap while moving forward to burst and block.
— Counter Flow: Timed block increases next strike.
— Momentum Carry: Consecutive hits build speed and power.
He skimmed it once, twice.
"Okay," he said quietly. "Okay."
He cut across the next block, eyes scanning windows, hands tight at his sides. The streetlights painted long shapes across the pavement. A car idled somewhere. A door shut two houses down.
His phone chimed softly.
SYSTEM NOTICE: Incident report submitted.
— Player status: Active.
— Witnesses: 0
— Flagged observation: 1
He stopped. "Flagged… observation?"
He turned in a slow circle. Brick walls. A dumpster. An empty bus stop. He felt watched, even with no one in sight.
GROUP CHAT — 2 New Messages.
Rei: Atlas seriously.
Mira: Please answer.
Atlas: I'm fine… I'll talk tomorrow….
Rei: Hell no! You got us all worked up, saying you just killed someone and you might've been seen? Now you casually say 'Im fine. Talk tomorrow.' We're coming over!
Mira: I'm with Rei, we're coming over.
Atlas: …guys…
He couldn't argue especially revealing something so heavy as killing someone.
He reached the dorm gates. Two students passed him mid-conversation, laughing about something petty and bright. Atlas tried to mirror that easy tone and failed.
Inside the lobby, he kept his head down, sidestepped a flyer table, and took the stairs because the elevator felt like a trap. On the third floor landing, he leaned against the wall and shut his eyes.
The staff had felt real. The knife had been real. The screen had rewarded him.
"Kill or be killed," he whispered.
He unlocked his door, stepped in, and locked it again with shaking fingers. The room looked the same. Bed. Desk. Lamp. None of it lined up with the what happened just moments ago.
He set the phone on the desk and it lit on its own, projecting another soft overlay.
CLASS CONFIRMED: Vanguard
— Suggested training: Close-quarters drills, short sprints, ladder footwork.
— Suggested gear: Gloves, knee support, compression sleeves.
— Suggested team roles: Frontline disruptor, pressure fighter, shield for allies.
Below it, a final line settled like a verdict:
NEXT MISSION TIMER: 17:59:12
He stared at the countdown until he couldn't anymore. He closed the projection and sat on the edge of the bed, hands clasped tight to stop them from shaking.
A thought landed, small and heavy: If it assigns missions, it chooses the targets. If it chooses the targets…
The group chat buzzed again.
Rei: On my way.
Mira: Same. Don't argue.
Atlas exhaled through his nose. He typed: Bring blankets.
He opened the door for them, then paused, looking down the hall one more time.
A faint outline stood at the far end by the window—still, watching.
Atlas blinked—and it was gone.
His phone lifted the projection one more time, unprompted.
ALERT: Player nearby. Unknown alignment.
The screen dimmed. The countdown kept ticking.
"Fuck…"