Mara Vex was killed for the 47th time at the same spot, by the same people, with the exact same taunting words.
Fire blazed on the tip of that arrow—an orange dot that expanded too quickly in the center of Mara Vex's vision. She didn't even have time to move her finger, let alone activate [Lesser Shield] whose cooldown had just ended three seconds ago. The fire arrow shot forth, piercing precisely between the third and fourth ribs, tearing the virtual skin that felt almost too real, searing the internal organs designed with a level seven pain simulation.
She died. Again.
For the forty-seventh time.
At the same spawn point—a narrow valley at the foot of Frostfang Mountain, with bluish-gray grass always wet with the system's morning dew. With the same formation—three tanks in front, two ranged DPS on the small hill to the left, one healer hiding behind a jagged rock, and that bastard sniper in the same ebony tree top. With the same taunt, heard through the chat log she had memorized by heart.
[Guild] CrimsonCrusader_Draven: HAHA, still spawning here, noob. You're like a magnet for my arrows.
[Guild] CrimsonCrusader_Grim: 47-0. World record, boys. Looks like we need to forge a trophy.
Mara's body vanished in blue light particles, a respawn timer appeared in the lower left corner—a countdown from ten seconds. Ten seconds she spent every time, trapped in a gray-colored vacuum, only able to read the chat log filled with mockery and scrolling laugh emojis.
[Guild] CrimsonCrusader_Lyra: Don't go easy on her, Draven. She's the one who chose to be a healer. A healer without a guild. Easy prey.
[Guild] CrimsonCrusader_Draven: True. MaraVex, still wanna continue? I've got a stock of 500 more fire arrows.
Nine. Eight. Seven.
Mara tried to take a breath, but there was no air in this respawn space—only the illusion of a need to breathe programmed to maintain immersion. Eight thousand hours. Eight thousand hours she had spent in Aeternum Online, the VRMMO world she once considered an escape from an equally monotonous reality. Eight thousand hours honing healing skills, learning every raid mechanic, gathering resources to craft rare potions. Eight thousand hours for what? To become a convenient practice target for a toxic guild who thought they were gods just because they had team coordination and Legendary class gear bought with their parents' credit cards?
Six. Five. Four.
She remembered the first time they killed her. Four months ago. She was farming a rare herb for a rank B alchemist quest. Draven and his friends passed by, saw her name didn't have a guild tag, and decided to "test their new DPS." One [Meteor Shower], one [Chain Lightning], and Mara died before she could scream. Back then she was still furious. She tried to report it to a GM. No response. Aeternum's anti-griefing system was notoriously lax—as long as there was a "PvP conflict started with provocation," it was considered fair play.
Three. Two. One.
Blue light particles spun, reforming her avatar's body—a female elf with short silver hair and green eyes, wearing a simple tier Rare healing robe. Her feet landed on the same wet ground. Frostfang's cold wind swept across her skin, carrying the scent of pine and a hint of iron. She did not move. She only stared straight ahead, at the figure of Draven already standing there with a fire bow in hand, a wide grin plastered on the face of that tall, blond-haired human character.
"Welcome back, miss," said Draven, his voice heard through the VR headset speakers with surround sound quality too good for such trash talk. "I thought you'd give up after the 30th death. Turns out you're stubborn too."
Mara did not answer. Her fingers, connected to the haptic controller, trembled slightly. Not from fear. Not from anger. But because of something deeper—an existential fatigue gnawing at her actual bones, lying on the narrow bed in her small apartment. Eight thousand hours. Forty-seven deaths. Every death was a repetition of the same ritual: spawn, panic to find cover, try to heal herself, then get attacked from all sides until her HP ran out. They never let her escape. They always waited for her respawn timer to end, blocking every exit from this small valley with magic barriers and traps. They wanted her to despair. They wanted her to beg.
And she would not do it.
"Silent, huh? I'm bored," said Grim, the warrior wearing black plate armor full of spikes. He swung his greatsword, slashing the air right in front of Mara's nose. The wind slash effect swept through the blue grass around her. "Try screaming 'please stop' this time. For variety."
Mara looked at them, one by one. Draven the ranger, Grim the warrior, Lyra the mage, the other two DPS who never even introduced their names, and their healer—a priestess with a face too beautiful to be real—who just stood behind with a bored expression. They were the Crimson Crusaders, the guild ranked 15th on the server, infamous for spawn-killing tactics and bullying solo players. They had money, they had time, and they had boredom that could only be filled with the suffering of others.
"Why?" Mara's voice finally came out, hoarse. She didn't even try to hide its tremor. "What do you gain from this?"
Draven raised an eyebrow. "Oh, you can talk. I thought you were mute." He stepped closer, crouching so his eyes were level with Mara's. "What do we get? Entertainment, darling. This is a game. A game for fun. And killing you over and over... it's very fun."
"I never did anything to you."
"Wrong. You exist. You exist here, alone, without a guild, with the tacky name 'MaraVex'. That's reason enough." Draven stood back up, stroking his bow. "In the real world, I have to pretend to be a good person. Here? I can be my true self. And my true self enjoys seeing others suffer."
Lyra chuckled softly. "Deep philosophy, Dray. Now just kill her again, we have a Frostfang Dungeon raid in half an hour."
Draven nodded. "Hear that? We have a schedule. So let's finish the 48th quickly." He drew the bowstring, the fire arrow ignited again. "Don't worry, we'll be back tomorrow. And the day after. And so on. Until you truly delete your character or go insane."
Mara closed her eyes. She didn't want to see that arrow coming again. Behind her eyelids, she saw old memories—the first time she entered Aeternum, amazed by the beauty of its world, promising to become the best healer, wanting to help other players. She saw the faces of NPCs she had saved, quests she had completed with difficulty, the sunset over Crystalwind Lake that made her cry because it was too beautiful. Eight thousand hours. All of it reduced to this: a practice target for people whose pleasure came from a lack of empathy.
The fire arrow pierced her chest again. The virtual pain—an electrical signal sent to her nerves—felt like a bitter truth. Her body staggered, the red HP bar in the corner of her vision shrinking to zero in an instant.
[System Message: You have been slain by CrimsonCrusader_Draven.]world
[Respawn in: 10…]
She didn't wait for the countdown to finish.
"Logout."
That voice command was uttered in a flat, almost robotic tone. The world of Aethernum—the valley, the mountain, the gray sky, and the six laughing figures—began to fade, turning into a grid of green lines before disappearing completely. Her VR headset powered down, the visor opening automatically. The dim light of her room lamp welcomed her, stabbing her eyes that had adapted to the virtual world.