Koal Pierce's life had never been glamorous.
By day, he worked as a freelance illustrator — digital commissions, concept art for small-time indie projects, the occasional splash of work for mid-tier clients who wanted "anime-styled" covers. It paid the bills, mostly. But it was monotonous, hours spent hunched over his tablet, with no coworkers to talk to, no real social life to break the cycle.
By night, however, Koal became someone else.
A streamer. A gamer.
Not a famous one by any stretch, but his modest corner of the internet adored him for one thing in particular — his obsession with Nightfall Protocol Online, a game as beloved as it was infamous.
The story of NPO wasn't exactly… original.
Rift-like portals tearing open across the world, spewing "Mana" into the atmosphere — a pollutant so virulent it twisted every living thing it touched. Animals warped into monstrous aberrations. Insects became swarming, armored nightmares. Even people weren't safe — countless infected into mindless horrors that lurked in cities, forests, and ruins.
Yet those rare few who resisted the Mana's corruption awakened with powers far beyond human limits. Magic, enhanced combat abilities, strange psychic talents — a fighting chance against extinction.
Humanity's last sanctuary: Nexus, an isolated city fortified to the teeth. At its heart stood Nexus UN, a prestigious academy that trained Awakened to wield their powers, hunt the infected, and search for a cure.
Like most fantasy tales, NPO followed a protagonist's meteoric rise — the underdog who, through grit and plot armor, became godlike by the end. He slaughtered bosses that could wipe out entire cities, uncovered secrets of the Mana, and, naturally, built a harem of every impossibly attractive female lead along the way.
The original Nightfall Protocol novel had been brutally dark — too dark. Gruesome depictions of infection and transformation, morally gray human-on-human conflict, child characters meeting tragic ends… it had been banned in several countries, and its publication abruptly cut short.
Nightfall Protocol Online, the MMORPG adaptation, carried a watered-down version of the lore, but retained its brutality, styled in gameplay mechanics. And that — the gameplay — was what Koal cared about.
—
Tonight, like most nights, Koal was live on stream.
"Yo, you think they're ever gonna update this game?" he asked, idly looting the corpse of a high-level mutant for rare crafting materials. His in-game avatar crouched over the body in a dim alley, while the chat window scrolled with emotes and jokes.
"Pfft, doubtful," one of his guildmates replied over voice. "Player base is shrinking faster than a cheap T-shirt in a dryer."
Another guildmate laughed. "Maybe they'll add another waifu NPC to bring the degenerates back."
Koal smirked, shaking his head. "Wouldn't help. NPO's been coasting on fumes for a while now. The main storyline's so long, but you can clear it in four years if you grind. And we've all been here that long, haven't we?"
That comment drew surprise from his friends and chat alike.
"Wait—YOU? Bored of NPO?"
"Mark the calendar, boys. End of an era."
Koal chuckled, leaning back in his chair. "Yeah, yeah. Don't get me wrong, I still like it. But… maybe it's time to find something new."
Koal's gaze lingered over to his window. Yeah, after this…I'll probably move on to a different game.
—-
Later that night, his guildmates had logged off, leaving Koal alone in the ghostly silence of the game world. He was grinding for rare loot drops — a repetitive, mind-numbing process he'd done countless times before. His eyes were half-lidded, the only sounds in his apartment the faint hum of his PC and the occasional click of his mouse.
Then — the game froze.
A single notification popped up in the center of his screen:
[Nightfall Protocol Online — Update Ready to Install]
Koal blinked. "Update? At… what, two in the morning?"
His lips quirked. "Ah, what the hell…"
He clicked Install.
That's when everything went wrong.
His vision swam, the monitor blurring into a smear of color. The sensation was dizzying — like vertigo, like his body was falling sideways. His head felt light, his breath shallow.
"The hell…?" he muttered, gripping his desk. His heartbeat pounded in his ears. The edges of his sight began to darken.
And then, nothing.
—-
When Koal woke again, the smell hit him first.
Acrid, choking — smoke and burning plastic. His throat stung with every inhale. His head throbbed, his limbs heavy.
Then came the sound.
A deep, concussive BOOM somewhere in the distance.
Screams — dozens, maybe hundreds — tangled together with the wailing of sirens.
His eyes snapped open.
He was sprawled on cold concrete, the texture scraping his palms as he pushed himself upright. His breath came fast as his senses caught up.
People were running, screaming, shoving past him in blind panic.
Buildings in the distance crumbled like sandcastles, flames licking at their collapsing frames. The air shimmered with heat. Ash drifted like snow.
Somewhere out there, unseen, something roared — a deafening, guttural bellow that rattled his bones and split the air like a war siren.
Koal's breath caught in his throat.
Just… what the hell is happening?