In the middle of the street stood a man with a disheveled beard, wearing a suit that hadn't seen an iron in a year. He glanced at his watch, sighed, and continued trudging toward work.
He entered a building without so much as glancing at the sign outside. At the reception desk, he wordlessly flashed his work card; the clerk gave a mechanical nod. Lou moved on, into a silent, near-empty office. He stopped at his desk, lowered himself into the chair, and began typing as if on autopilot.
[Adam]: Hey, Lou. How's the marriage?
[Lou]: My wife cheated on me with my brother. She won in court. Now I can't see the kids, I'm paying child support and rent for a shoebox apartment… and all five of them hate me. They think I'm the one who ruined everything.
[Adam]: Damn. That's rough. At least I'll have a hell of a story to tell the boys tonight. We're drinking at the bar—then maybe handling something at 3 AM. They'll bring shovels and snacks, if you're in.
Adam dragged a finger across his throat.
[Lou]: No need. I already talked to Jason. Turns out my brother and my wife are having problems. Jason said he'd take care of it for us.
[Adam]: Jason? You still talk to him? That kid cracked a beer bottle over your head and kicked you out of your own house. Your son did that.
[Lou]: Yeah… he did. But the day after the divorce, he came to me with a black eye. My brother hates how much he looks like me, so he finally showed Jason his true colors. Even with my head still bandaged, he was still my son, the boy I raised. So I rode out, found my brother… and gave him something he wouldn't forget.
[Adam]: Right. That's why you ended up in jail. And why you had to work from home for three months?
Adam studied his friend for a moment, then pulled a coupon from his pocket—Friday's chicken special.
[Adam]: Use this, brother. Eat. And don't forget, the boys and I are here for you.
Lou accepted it with a faint smile.
Adam looked away, pretending not to hear, and returned to his desk.
As soon as he left, Lou's smile faded.
When the workday finally ended, Lou rose from his chair and shuffled out. He stopped at a corner store, grabbed a pack of noodles and some cheese, then checked his digital wallet.
[Lou Selena]
[Income +3,500]
[Child support -3,000]
[Therapy for violence -1,000]
[Daily expenses -100]
He sighed at the numbers, then pulled out the coupon Adam had given him. A small mercy. Lou entered a nearby restaurant and ordered Friday's chicken special.
He ate it all—down to the bones—before heading back to his cramped two-room apartment.
The place was small, but clean and orderly. Lou stepped inside, set down his groceries, and checked his phone.
A new message lit up the screen. It was from Jason:
"I punched back at Uncle. He's on the floor bleeding a lot."
Lou stared at the message from Jason for a long moment. Without replying, he simply forwarded it to Adam. Then he lay down on the bed, unlocked his phone, and opened an app.
[Tower of Fate]
[Lou]: Huh… a crossover event with {Hell Gates of Haven}. Great. If I don't prep for the raid, I'll drop out of the top hundred.
His voice was flat, lifeless. He scrolled to his profile.
[Rank #87 – Rockdrace]
[Guild messages: 12]
[Private messages: 30]
He tapped [Guild messages].
[Guild Chat – Frostfang Hall]
[IronCrow]: Raid at midnight! Don't slack, Rockdrace. We need your buffs.
[SilverRoot]: Don't forget to bring that winter storm build—you melt demon waves faster than anyone.
[BladedSong]: Half the top 100 are watching you, Rock. Keep it up, and you'll be in the top 50 soon.
Lou stared at their words, unblinking. None of them knew the man behind the mask. To them, he wasn't a washed-out father or a failure of a husband. He was Rockdrace, the winter god, the strange orc hybrid who broke the meta.
For a moment, his lips curved into something like a smile.
Then he tapped [Private messages].
[Anglelord / Rank #2]: Rock, join me for the raid. I'll cover the costs. I need your winter storms to counter the Gate's fire elites.
[DiablosKing99 / Rank #1]: Rockdrace. Don't waste your time with #2. Come with me, and I'll guarantee you top 50—maybe higher. I'm forming the only guild that matters.
[LordGraveyardHEHE / Rank #3]: Hehe, Rock… if you're tired of being their tool, come to me. The Tower speaks through its cracks, and I know what it whispers. You'll want to hear it.
He just ignored them and opened the dungeon menu and entered the new dungeon solo.
His main avatar materialized first: an Orc druid-shaman, robes traced with white frost, eyes glowing with winter's breath. Around him appeared his sub-characters, each one bound to his account through grueling hours of play:
An orc barbarian, muscles marked with crimson autumn tattoos.
A druid inked in icy winter runes.
A blademaster bearing the emerald patterns of spring.
A hawk-eyed ranger crackling with storm-born power.
And finally, his rarest creation—an orc half-spirit hero, skin shimmering with the tattoos of all four seasons (autumn, spring, winter, summer) and branded with the marks of four disasters: {storm, sandstorm, volcano, tsunami}.
Lou's screen filled with the glow of their formation. He looked at them—his strange, unorthodox army—and then at the blazing gates ahead. Fire licked the edges of the portal, spilling out heat and sparks that seemed almost real.
The Hell Gate roared open. From the blaze poured demons—horned beasts with molten skin, their claws dripping lava.
Lou's eyes scanned the battlefield. Too many for brute force. He needed control.
[Lou]: Barbarian—front. Anchor the line. Druid, root the left flank. Blademaster, pressure the right. Ranger—thin the flyers. Half-spirit… save your disasters for my mark.
The orc barbarian surged forward, autumn tattoos glowing, muscles hardening like stone as he slammed his axe into the earth. A shockwave rippled, slowing the first wave of demons.
The winter druid chanted, frost crawling across the molten ground. Roots of ice speared upward, entangling fiery legs, locking demons in place. Steam hissed as fire met cold.
[Lou]: Good. Hold them.
The blademaster leapt into motion, twin blades flashing green. Spring tattoos pulsed as he darted between enemies, every strike planting seeds of magic. Demons staggered, their wounds sprouting vines that constricted tighter with every movement.
Above, winged imps dived from the firestorm. Lou barked an order.
[Lou]: Ranger, storms!
Arrows crackled with lightning as the hawk-eyed orc loosed shot after shot. Each bolt exploded midair, shredding the swarm into ash.
Still, the Gate screamed open wider. Larger demons pushed through—hulking giants crowned with fire. Lou's hand hovered over his half-spirit hero.
[Lou]: Not yet. Wait.
The barbarian slammed into one, but was hurled back, armor glowing red-hot. Lou felt his pulse rise.
[Lou]: Druid—freeze their feet. Blademaster, push vines deeper. Ranger—blind the giants.
The field shifted. Frost crawled higher, locking magma legs. Green vines burst from cracks in scorched skin. Arrows struck eyes, sending giants roaring. The tide slowed.
Then Lou's gaze sharpened. The Gate pulsed—its core exposed for a single moment.
[Lou]: Now. Half-spirit—four disasters!
The hero's tattoos blazed in colors no screen could contain. He raised his weapon, a blade of shifting seasons, and slammed it down.
Storm winds howled, sand tore through ranks, molten flame erupted under enemies' feet, and a colossal wave crashed over all. Winter's frost fused with summer's heat, splitting the battlefield in chaos.
When the smoke cleared, half the enemy horde was gone. The Gate flickered.
Lou leaned forward, eyes alight.
[Lou]: Push the breach. Winter can freeze hell itself.
His team surged as one, striking with perfect timing—an army born from a broken man's hands, now tearing down hell's walls.
The battlefield shook. The flames dimmed for a breath—then split apart. From the heart of the Gate stepped the Demon Lord of Hell. Twice the size of Lou's barbarian, its body was a furnace of molten iron, horns glowing like brands, eyes dripping liquid fire.
[Demon Lord]: Mortal vermin… You dare breach my gate?
The voice cracked Lou's headset like thunder. His party staggered under the pressure.
[Lou]: Formation! Hold steady.
The barbarian slammed his axe into the ground again, planting a wall of autumn's weight. The druid spread frost roots like chains. The ranger loosed volleys of lightning to distract. The blademaster danced between the Lord's legs, planting seeds of spring that refused to burn.
But the Demon Lord swung a massive blade of black flame—one stroke, and the barbarian was hurled aside, health bar plummeting.
Lou's jaw clenched. Only one option left.
[Lou]: Half-spirit… with me.
The half-spirit hero stepped forward, tattoos blazing with all four seasons and all four disasters. Winter's chill crystallized his breath, spring's life shone in his veins, autumn's fire burned in his eyes, and summer's heat pulsed in his chest. The disasters roared around him, bending to his will.
Lou's commands were sharp, measured.
[Lou]: Storm, pin his blade. Sandstorm, blind his eyes. Volcano, crack his footing. Tsunami—on my mark.
The Demon Lord staggered as the field shifted: lightning wrapped his sword arm, sand whipped into his burning eyes, magma burst beneath his feet, locking him in place.
Lou felt his pulse surge. This wasn't just a game anymore. His hands trembled as though he was standing there himself.
[Lou]: Now! Tsunami—together!
He pushed the command, and his hero raised his blade. Water surged from nowhere, a roaring tide, frost forming at its crest as Lou unleashed winter's final storm. The wave crashed into the Demon Lord, freezing molten skin, drowning fire with relentless ice.
The Demon Lord screamed, cracks spreading across his body until he shattered like a broken furnace, collapsing into ash.
Silence. Only the hiss of fading fire remained.
Lou's party stood victorious. His health bars blinked low, but he was alive. He stared at the half-spirit hero—the rarest, strangest creation he had ever made, the only one strong enough to stand beside him.
And for the first time in years, Lou laughed. A raw, broken laugh that cut through the emptiness.
The screen flickered white.
[Rank Update: #87 → #69]
For the first time in years, Lou's face lit up with something other than exhaustion. His chest swelled, and he threw his head back.
The sound burst out of him—half battle cry, half primal laugh.
His orcs echoed him, voices thundering across the battlefield.
Notifications flooded the screen.
[Global Chat]: Congrats, Rockdrace!
[Guild Chat]: Rank 69! Winter God rises!
[Private Message]: You're insane, Rock. That was art.
[System]: Achievement unlocked – "Freeze Hell Itself."
Lou leaned back, grinning like a madman. For one fleeting moment, the world wasn't gray, or heavy, or broken. It was fire, frost, victory, and voices chanting his name.
And then… the screen trembled again.
[System Override – Emergency Notice]
{Top 100 players. You have been chosen. Prepare.}
Lou blinked. The letters burned brighter, searing into his vision.
He shifted in bed—and froze. His arm, the one holding his phone, was dispersing. Not fading to black, but breaking apart grain by grain, drifting away like sand caught in a breeze.
[Lou]: What the—?
Panic shot through him. He dropped the phone, but it didn't clatter to the floor—it dissolved midair, unraveling into particles of light. His other arm began to go next, flaking away in shimmering fragments.
Lou stared at his hands. At his chest. His entire body was being erased, pixel by pixel, like the world itself had decided he was just another asset to be deleted.
The empty apartment blurred around him. The cracked ceiling, the secondhand furniture, the untouched groceries on the counter—all scattering into dust.
[Lou]: Am I… Why does it matter anyway.
He tried to stand, but his legs were already gone. His voice caught in his throat, twisting between terror and something like wonder.
The last thing to vanish was his eyes, staring into the endless white.
And then—silence.
When the light receded, Lou was no longer Lou.
He stood tall, tusked and robed in frost, with power crackling through his veins. Around him rose a Tower, infinite in height, crowned by storm clouds and fire.
And kneeling at his side was the half-spirit hero, tattoos glowing faintly.
[System]: Welcome, Rockdrace. God of Winter. The Tower clamers await.
[Chapter End]