The fluorescent light above Marcus's head had been flickering for three days. He'd stopped noticing on day two.
Small mercies.
He lay on the floor of his studio apartment—calling it that was generous; it was a box with a toilet—and stared at the water stain spreading across the ceiling. Looked like a dragon. Or maybe a middle finger. Hard to tell through the haze.
His phone buzzed. The screen cracked in four places, held together by a screen protector he'd bought back when he gave a shit about things like that.
LILY - MOBILE
His hand moved before his brain caught up. Muscle memory. His little sister was the only person whose calls he'd answer from the grave.
"Hey, Lil." His voice came out wrong. Scraped raw.
"Marcus?" She sounded small. Distant. "Did I wake you?"
"Nah. Just resting."
Resting. That's what you called it when your body was shutting down from malnutrition and your landlord had posted an eviction notice you couldn't read because your eyes wouldn't focus anymore.
"The doctor called." A pause. He heard her swallow. "About the surgery."
Marcus closed his eyes.
"They said... if we can't do it in the next three months, the damage might be permanent. Like, I might not—"
"We'll figure it out." The lie tasted like copper. "I'm working on something."
Working on something. He'd been saying that for six months. She probably didn't believe him anymore. He didn't believe himself.
"Marcus, you don't have to—"
"I'm your brother." He tried to sit up. Failed. "It's my job."
The silence on the other end lasted too long.
"Okay," she whispered. "I love you."
"Love you too, Lil."
The call ended. Marcus let the phone fall from his hand.
Two hundred thousand dollars. That's what they needed. May as well be two billion.
He had forty-three dollars in his account. Knew the exact number because he'd checked it seventeen times yesterday, as if the digits might rearrange themselves into something survivable.
Once upon a time, Marcus Caldwell had been worth millions.
Once upon a time, he'd been somebody.
The memories came without permission. They always did, usually when he was too weak to fight them off.
Five years ago. The Crimson Vanguard guild hall.
"Marcus, man, this is incredible." Ethan Cross had thrown an arm around his shoulders, grinning that golden-boy grin that made investors open their wallets and girls forgive his bullshit. "We just secured our third corporate sponsor. Do you know what this means?"
Marcus had known. He'd written the pitch deck. Negotiated the terms. Built the financial model that showed them hitting eight-figure revenue within two years.
"Means we're legit now," Marcus had said.
"We're gonna change the game, brother." Ethan squeezed his shoulder. "You and me. All the way to the top."
Brother. Ethan had called him that a lot.
Funny how words stopped meaning anything when you found out the person saying them was fucking the girl you loved while forging your signature on account transfer documents.
Marcus's fingers dug into the floor. The cheap laminate felt grainy under his nails.
The worst part? He'd seen it coming.
Not at first. At first, he'd been blind. Trusting. Stupid.
But toward the end, he'd noticed things. The way Sophia looked at Ethan when she thought no one was watching. The way Ethan asked increasingly specific questions about Marcus's personal accounts. The guild meetings Marcus wasn't invited to anymore.
He'd noticed. And he'd told himself he was paranoid.
Right up until the day Ethan's lawyers served him papers claiming Marcus had "misappropriated guild funds"—using evidence Marcus himself had documented, twisted into something unrecognizable.
Right up until he came home to find his Eternal Dominion account banned for "suspicious activity."
Right up until Sophia blocked his number and Ethan changed the locks on the office Marcus had paid for.
"You were useful, Marcus," Sophia had told him, the one time he'd managed to corner her outside her yoga studio. She'd had the decency to look uncomfortable, at least. "But Ethan's going places. And I need to be smart about my future."
"I built his future," Marcus had said. "Every strategy. Every tactic. Every partnership. That was me."
"Yeah." She'd hitched her Prada bag higher on her shoulder. "And now it's his."
Marcus forced his eyes open.
The dragon-shaped water stain had grown. Spreading across the ceiling like rot.
His chest hurt. Had been hurting for days, but it was getting worse. Sharp. Stabbing.
Probably his heart. Poetic, in a pathetic kind of way.
He wondered if Ethan would come to his funeral. Probably not. Would look bad for the brand. Crimson Vanguard's golden boy couldn't be associated with the "embezzler" who'd crashed and burned so spectacularly.
Would Lily be okay? His aunt would take her in. Maybe. If she could afford the extra mouth to feed.
The surgery, though. Two hundred thousand dollars.
Ethan spent that much on his car.
One of his cars.
Marcus's vision blurred. Not tears. He'd run out of those months ago. This was something else. Something final.
"If there's anything out there," he said to the empty room. His voice barely made it past his lips. "God. Devil. Doesn't matter."
The fluorescent light flickered.
"Let me go back."
Flicker.
"Just once."
Flicker.
"I'll burn it all down. Every lie. Every stolen achievement. Every smile he fakes for the cameras."
The light steadied.
"I'll take everything he stole from me and I'll make him watch while I do it."
His hands clenched into fists.
"I'll show them what a ghost can do."
The light went out.
The pain in his chest peaked—sharp, white, absolute.
Then nothing.
Darkness.
Not the darkness of closing your eyes. The darkness of not having eyes to close.
Marcus floated. Drifted. The anger that had burned so hot moments ago faded to embers.
Was this it? Just... nothing?
Kind of disappointing for an afterlife.
Then—
[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: Welcome to Eternal Dominion]
The words blazed across his vision. Blue text. Familiar font. Impossible.
[Server Launch: 89 days, 14 hours, 23 minutes]
[Account Status: New Player]
[Please customize your character—]
Marcus opened his eyes.
He was sitting in bed.
His bed.
Not the mattress on the floor of his shitbox studio. His actual bed, from his actual apartment, the one he'd lost three years into the disaster.
Sunlight streamed through the window. Real sunlight, not the sickly yellow from the broken streetlight outside his last place.
His hands—
Marcus held them up. Turned them over.
No scars from where he'd punched a wall in frustration.
No tremor from malnutrition.
Steady. Strong. Young.
He scrambled out of bed, nearly tripped over his own feet, and lunged for the mirror above his dresser.
The face staring back at him was twenty-three years old.
Twenty-three.
Five years before everything went to shit.
"No," Marcus breathed. "No fucking way."
But his reflection didn't change. Same dark hair, not yet thinning from stress. Same brown eyes, not yet hollowed out by loss. Same jawline, still carrying the softness of youth instead of the sharp angles of starvation.
He looked down. His phone—intact screen—sat on the nightstand.
March 15th, 2027
The date punched him in the gut.
March 15th. Three months before Eternal Dominion launched. Six months before he met Ethan Cross at a gaming convention. A year before he introduced Ethan to Sophia.
Five years before he died on a shitty floor with forty-three dollars to his name.
Marcus's legs gave out. He caught himself on the dresser, breathing hard.
This wasn't possible.
Except.
He looked at his hands again. Flexed his fingers. Felt the strength in them, the vitality he'd forgotten existed.
He'd made a deal, hadn't he? In those last moments. Let me go back.
"Okay," he said out loud. His voice came out steady. Strong. Nothing like the death rattle from minutes—years?—ago. "Okay. This is real."
Or he was hallucinating in his final moments and none of this mattered.
Either way.
His phone buzzed.
LILY - MOBILE
Marcus grabbed it. His heart hammered against his ribs.
"Lil?"
"Marcus! Finally!" Her voice hit him like a freight train. Clear. Strong. Healthy. "Did you seriously sleep through your alarm? You're supposed to pick me up at noon for lunch, remember? I got out of class early and I'm starving."
She could see.
Lily could still see.
Marcus pressed his free hand against his mouth. Bit down on his knuckle hard enough to hurt.
"Marcus? You there?"
"Yeah." He cleared his throat. "Yeah, I'm here. I'll be there in twenty."
"Okay, weirdo. You sound funny. Are you sick?"
"Nah. Just woke up."
"At eleven thirty? What are you, a vampire?" She laughed. The sound nearly broke him. "Anyway, hurry up. I want ramen."
The call ended.
Marcus stood there, phone in hand, and let himself feel it.
Relief. Rage. Purpose.
Five years.
He had five years of knowledge no one else possessed. Every exploit. Every hidden quest. Every world boss spawn point. Every mistake that led to his destruction.
And more importantly—
He knew exactly what Ethan Cross would do. Every move. Every betrayal. Every stolen opportunity.
Marcus walked to his desk. Opened his laptop.
His Eternal Dominion account info sat in a saved document. Username: GhostTactician. Password: Remember the goal.
He'd chosen that password because he'd been motivated back then. Hungry. He'd wanted to prove himself.
Now?
Now he wanted something else.
Marcus opened a new document and started typing.
THE LIST:
- Ethan Cross
- Sophia Laurent
- Everyone who stood by and watched
His fingers hovered over the keys.
Then he added one more line:
- Make them remember what it cost them
He saved the file. Named it VENDETTA.
A notification popped up on his screen. Email from the Eternal Dominion beta team.
Congratulations! You've been selected for closed beta testing...
Marcus smiled.
For the first time in five years—in five years that hadn't happened yet—he smiled and meant it.
"See you soon, brother," he said softly.
The word tasted like poison.
He couldn't wait to make Ethan choke on it.