"Legends are not born. They are forced into existence by those who refuse to die quietly."
Nick Yamato's hands gripped the controller like it was an extension of his soul.
The room around him was dark except for the glow of the TV — a battlefield reflected in his eyes.
Sweat slid down his temple, his pulse syncing with the rhythm of the duel unfolding before him.
On the screen, Khotun Khan towered like a mountain wrapped in armor, his halberd shimmering under a blood-red sky.
The final battle.
The end of Ghost of Tsushima.
Nick — or NatyGhost, as the leaderboard called him — wasn't blinking.
His breathing was slow, deliberate, surgical.
"Come on, big guy," he muttered. "Let's end this the right way."
The Khan swung, a brutal overhead strike that cracked the digital ground.
Nick's thumbs blurred across the sticks — Jin rolled, parried, and countered in a single fluid motion.
Sparks flew. The katana flashed, cutting through the Mongol's guard like lightning splitting a storm cloud.
> Perfect timing bonus.
Ghost stance activated.
The screen darkened, colors bleeding into crimson.
Nick smirked. "It's showtime."
Jin moved like a phantom.
Each strike was poetry — three, four, five slashes — and the Khan stumbled back, roaring.
The controller vibrated violently, the health bar disintegrating one slice at a time.
The final blow came in slow motion — Jin's katana slicing across the screen, a spray of light and embers.
The Khan fell to his knees, defiant till the end, before collapsing into the dirt.
Silence.
Then, the familiar victory chime.
Nick exhaled, leaning back with a grin that stretched across his face.
"And that's how the Ghost rolls."
The game faded into the ending cutscene — Jin walking alone through the burning fields, the wind whispering around him.
Nick had seen it a hundred times on YouTube.
But this time, something was… off.
The music shifted.
The logo didn't appear.
Instead, the screen flickered.
A soft chime echoed, followed by text that shouldn't have existed.
> You have achieved what no other Ghost could.
Hidden Ending Unlocked.
Do you accept your destiny?
Nick blinked. "Huh?"
He leaned forward. There was no button prompt, yet somehow the X icon glowed faintly.
He chuckled. "Okay, devs. Easter-egg speedrun moment. I see you."
He pressed X.
> Choice accepted.
The screen didn't just brighten — it exploded with light.
His controller vibrated violently, a low hum filling the room like an earthquake wrapped in thunder.
"Yo—what the—"
Nick barely finished before the brightness engulfed him.
His heart raced. The hum turned into a roar. His vision tunneled, pixels scattering like fireflies around him.
For one fleeting instant, he saw Jin's reflection in the white — not as a game model, but as a real man.
The Ghost stared back at him… and smiled.
Then everything went white.
---
The sensation of falling came next — weightless, endless.
Wind howled in his ears, but there was no ground.
His body felt numb, like he was sinking into warm water that whispered in an ancient language.
He tried to open his eyes — nothing.
Tried to speak — silence.
> Maybe this is a VR glitch, he thought wildly. No… this is too real.
His chest tightened.
The wind changed, carrying the scent of grass and ash.
Faint sounds of horses.
Steel clashing.
The world rebuilt itself from the light — the roar dimming into the whisper of leaves.
His feet hit solid ground.
Nick gasped.
The controller was gone.
The TV, the chair, his entire apartment — gone.
He was kneeling.
Soft earth pressed against his palms.
Wind brushed through his hair, carrying the scent of rain and cherry blossoms.
He lifted his head.
White petals drifted through the air — a storm of beauty and silence.
The field stretched endlessly, rippling with grass under a golden sun.
In the distance, a Mongol war horn howled.
Nick's eyes widened.
His hands weren't his — calloused, scarred, wrapped in leather.
A katana hung by his side, its hilt carved with familiar markings.
His reflection gleamed faintly in the blade — a face that wasn't his own, yet one he'd seen for hundreds of hours on his screen.
Jin Sakai's face.
He stumbled backward, heartbeat thundering in his ears.
"This—this isn't real," he whispered. "Oh, hell no. This can't—"
A scream cut through the air — desperate, human.
Nick turned instinctively.
A small village burned in the valley below, Mongol banners flapping in the wind.
The wind itself seemed to whisper through the petals.
> "Rise… Ghost."
Nick froze.
The voice wasn't his imagination.
It came from everywhere.
The katana in his hand pulsed with faint warmth — alive, waiting.
He looked down at his trembling hands, then back at the field — the horizon where the world of pixels had somehow become flesh and blood.
"Okay…" he breathed, forcing a shaky grin.
"Either I've lost my mind, or I just got DLC'd into history."
The wind shifted again.
The distant drums of war began to echo.
Nick Yamato — NatyGhost, the best player to ever beat the game — took one hesitant step forward.
The earth felt real.
The weight of the sword was real.
He could hear the screams.
The clash of blades.
The story he once played was alive — and it was waiting for him to begin it again.
A gust of wind blew across the field, petals swirling around him like ghosts.
Nick tightened his grip on the sword.
His heart thundered.