2
The day Sword World shut down, the wind outside was ferocious
I watched from the dorm window as a convenience store’s patio umbrella, base and all,
was ripped off the ground and sent flying several meters down the street.
The store clerk ran out, trying to grab it, but the wind shoved him back like a toy.
Every news channel was looping coverage of the global storm. Experts took turns sharing
their theories, but no one could explain it
Some people online were even saying it was the end of the world.
Meanwhile, I stared at the dwindling food stash in our dorm room. The storm showed no
signs of stopping, and I was running out of options. My supplies wouldn’t last past tonight.
Sarah, my roommate, didn’t seem worried at all. She leaned back in her chair, scrolling through her phone. Told you you should’ve sold your account when you had the chance.”
She smirked. “I got a cool eighty grand for mine. Once the money’s in my account, I’ll be swimming in takeout–even if delivery fees shoot up to a hundred bucks.”
She shot me a glance. “You? You’re on your own. Hope you enjoy starving.”
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Wed, Dec 11
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Q A
I ignored her. There was no point arguing. She clearly didn’t realize that no one in their right mind would drop that kind of money on a game account after the servers shut down. It was almost definitely a scam.
I got up, heading toward the bathroom to wash up when something strange happened.
A cold, robotic voice echoed through the room.
“Sword World dungeon successfully initialized. First mission: find Coco’s favorite item near the village entrance.
Time limit: 24 hours. Failure will result in erasure.”
I froze.
“Coco?” I whispered.
Sarah, on the other hand, rolled her eyes. “What the hell? A mission? Who’s pulling this dumb prank?”
I wasn’t sure what to say. Coco was a name I knew–she was an NPC in Sword World. The granddaughter of the beginner village chief. A sweet little girl who loved playing hide–and–seek by the creek near the village gates.
But this couldn’t be real. It had to be some weird coincidence.
Before I could think further, there was a loud, frantic knock at the door.
Sarah sighed dramatically and stomped over to open it. “Who is it?”
Standing there was Jessica, another girl from our dorm.
She looked awful–her clothes were torn, and she was covered in blood. She wobbled unsteadily, clutching the doorframe for support
“Help… me…” she gasped, her voice barely above a whisper.
Then, before we could react, she collapsed, hitting the floor with a sickening thud.
Wed, Dec 11
Q to
Behind her, standing in the hallway, was a little girl.
She couldn’t have been older than six or seven, with twin pigtails and a lollipop in her
hand. She swayed slightly as she stared at us, her big, round eyes sparkling with an eerie
light.
Then she smiled.
“Big sister,” she said sweetly, tilting her head. “Did you find my favorite thing yet?”
Sarah jumped back in shock. “What the–where did this creepy kid come from?! Hey, where are
your parents?!”
I couldn’t move. I couldn’t even speak.
The girl’s face, her outfit, her voice–it was exactly like Coco. The Sword World NPC.
Down to the last detail.
My stomach twisted into knots. This couldn’t be real. There was no way someone could look exactly like an NPC from a video game.
I took a step back, my mind racing. But as I moved, something cold brushed against my
leg.
The chill shot through me like ice water.
I looked down.
Jessica.
She was lying there, motionless. Her skin was pale, her lips blue. I crouched down, reaching out with trembling hands, and froze when I touched her.
She was ice–cold. Her entire body felt like it had been pulled out of a freezer.
I scrambled backward, panic rising in my chest. “She’s–she’s gone!”
Sarah turned to glare at me, annoyed. “What the hell are you talking about? gone? Are
21:02 Wed, Dec 11
you losing it?”
Before I could respond, the TV, my phone, Sarah’s laptop–every screen in the room suddenly flickered and changed to the same broadcast.
A news anchor appeared on the screen, pale and visibly shaken.
“This is an emergency announcement,” they began, their voice tense. “After thorough investigation, experts have confirmed that the recent global anomalies are linked to a
martial arts game called Sword World.”
I felt my blood run cold.
The anchor continued, their tone growing more urgent. “We are now asking anyone familiar with this game to come forward and provide information.
“If you encounter anyone resembling NPCs from the game, do not engage with them. Avoid contact at all costs. Do not speak to them, and leave the area immediately.”
They paused, their eyes darting nervously off–camera. Then, in a lower voice, they
added:
fo
“If you must interact with them, answer their questions carefully. Incorrect answers may result in….
The broadcast repeated the warning, hammering it into viewers‘ heads:
“Do not engage with NPCs. Do not make eye contact. Answer questions with extreme
caution.”
Then, the screen cut to a slideshow of game NPCs.
