I miscalculated, Adyr thought, tasting the bitter sting of his mistake.
The mission he'd given the NPC, meant solely to understand its nature, had completely backfired. Now, knowing that his real body was lying there defenseless, waiting to be torn apart by a horde of skeletons, he realized everything had been left to luck. He had no control over the outcome, and he hated that to his core.
Or is it? He chuckled quietly as he hung up the receiver and turned back toward the table.
When Marielle saw that he had ended the call, she considered asking what could've been so important for Victor to use the emergency line — but she held back. She wasn't the kind of parent who poked around in her children's private lives, and she knew better than most how reckless teenagers could be. So, she let it slide.
Soon, her tired eyes began to close, and in the soft candlelit room, as the low murmur of her children studying filled the space, she drifted into a quiet, peaceful sleep.
***
Morning light poured through the window as Adyr slowly opened his eyes and sat up in bed. He glanced at the wristwatch resting on his desk — 6:00 AM.
The first thing he did was check if the power had returned. Sure enough, the game helmet's indicator light was on. It had begun charging.
According to the manual, a full charge took exactly three hours — the same as one in-game session. It also didn't allow play while charging, and although Adyr briefly wondered why a device this advanced didn't support fast charging, there was nothing he could do about it.
Since there was no need to rush, he stood by the window for a few minutes, watching the sun rise. Afterward, he did a light stretch, visited the bathroom for his usual morning routine, and then headed downstairs.
The house was quiet, no one else was awake yet. He made himself a cup of coffee in the kitchen, then set the table and prepared a simple breakfast for the family. Afterward, he returned to his room and opened his laptop.
Logging into the most popular local social media platform, he wasn't surprised to see the game trending across Shelter City 9.
He didn't have access to networks beyond the city. The internet was strictly local, but he had a feeling it wasn't any different in the other cities either.
He quickly skimmed through some of the top posts and noticed something striking: over 99% of the comments were negative.
Sure enough, everyone, without exception, had nothing but praise for the realism and full-dive immersion, calling it a technology decades ahead of its time.
But as a game?
Most found it disappointing — even infuriating.
The biggest complaint? Many players had died before they even had the chance to do anything, right after spawning.
Adyr clicked on one of the most viewed posts:
@ApocalypseSurvivorMan:
Are the devs messing with us?
Right after choosing my path, I literally fell from the sky into an active volcano. I didn't even get to move before I died. And the worst part? It felt real. I can still feel the pain of burning alive.
I want my money back. Actually, no — I want compensation for the psychological trauma they gave me.
That was just one of hundreds of similar comments below.
@WalletBreaker:
Dude, you should consider yourself lucky. At least yours was a quick death. I spawned in a dark forest. Five minutes later, a pack of wolves tore me apart. Slowly. I couldn't even log out. I had to sit there and die in pieces. Not peace. Pieces.
And of course, a few trolls in the mix:
@GrannyMage:
Hehe, you bunch of losers couldn't even last two seconds.
I survived exactly 30 minutes floating in the middle of the ocean before a shark got me. I'm obviously part of the top 10%.
As Adyr kept reading, it finally clicked — this was what Victor meant by "the one percent."
Apparently, players had turned their trauma and frustration into a ranking system. They started humorously measuring survival time as a badge of honor, jokingly assigning percentile brackets based on how long they stayed alive.
Those who had survived without dying, like Adyr, were being labeled the top 1%.
He also came across a few more pieces of information that caught his attention. It seemed everyone had experienced the same initial sequence, choosing one of the four paths in the sky. But there was no mention anywhere of a fifth path.
Another thing that stood out was the stat system. Each player seemed to receive only one stat, directly tied to the path they had chosen. For example, those who picked the Astra path were granted [Physique], while those who chose the Nether received [Resilience].
This made Adyr's situation unique — his character panel showed all four stats. A clear sign that the path he had taken was something entirely different.
But perhaps the most intriguing detail was the lack of any discussion about physical changes in real life. No one mentioned getting stronger by increasing their in-game stats — or experiencing mutations like Adyr had.
There were only two explanations: either no one else had undergone those changes, or they were keeping it quiet. Adyr strongly believed it was the latter.
After browsing the internet a little longer and gathering all the information he could, Adyr closed his laptop.
He noticed the campus shuttle would arrive in fifteen minutes, so he quickly changed into his uniform, packed his notes and textbooks into a leather satchel, and finally grabbed the box containing the game helmet Selina had sent before heading downstairs.
"Good morning, son. Heading out?" His mother, Marielle, greeted him from the breakfast table, where she and Niva were already seated and eating.
"Yeah. Are you staying home today?" Adyr asked as he slipped on his shoes and tied the laces.
Marielle took a sip of her tea and sighed deeply before answering. "I wish. A new group of kids is arriving today. I might be home late again."
Her voice was tired, but her eyes said otherwise — they sparkled with quiet joy. She never complained when it came to the orphanage. The more children they managed to rescue from the chaos outside, the more peace she seemed to find within herself.
He said his goodbyes to Marielle and Niva, then stepped outside.
The sky, usually choked with dense yellow clouds, felt lighter today. Rays of sunlight pierced through the thinning veil, casting warmth and light on the scarred earth below. It was still an apocalyptic morning, like so many before it, but something in the air hinted at renewal, as if the world itself was holding its breath for a fresh beginning.