The familiar loading screen of "Aethelgard Online" flickered, then vanished. Adrian, poised for the raid, felt a jolt—not the usual VR haptic feedback, but something visceral, a shock that rattled his bones. A blinding flash engulfed him, and then, nothing.
He awoke to the stench of sulfur and ozone, the rough texture of obsidian beneath his claws. Claws? He opened eyes that were no longer human, but pools of liquid shadow and molten gold. His reflection, caught in a shard of volcanic glass, revealed a being of terrifying majesty: Nyxal, the Primordial Apex Devil. Towering horns, wings like solidified night, and a raw, untamed power thrumming beneath his grotesque, beautiful skin.
The game interface, his trusted companion for years, was gone. Replaced by a crushing weight of reality. The air tasted of ancient magic, the distant screams of creatures were genuine, and the chill of a subterranean wind was not simulated. This was Aethelgard, but terrifyingly, undeniably real.
The realization hit him like a meteor strike: he wasn't playing. He was Nyxal. The immense power that coursed through his veins was his own, not a borrowed avatar's.
And the most horrifying truth of all: immortality. This wasn't a game over, a re-spawn point. This was forever.
Aethelgard, the world he had explored for countless hours, stretched before him in all its perilous glory. Proud elves guarded ancient forests, their bows strung with moonlight. Resilient dwarves delved deep into the earth, their hammers echoing through cavernous halls. Cunning humans schemed in their burgeoning kingdoms, their ambitions clashing. Monstrous beasts, once mere polygons, now stalked the wildlands, their roars shaking the very ground. And fragmented demonic factions, once a convenient enemy, now felt disturbingly like twisted reflections of himself.
The air thrummed with tension. Whispers of war were no longer forum chatter but genuine fear etched on the faces of the sentient beings around him. Ancient prophecies, once flavor text, felt like impending doom. Forgotten gods, once raid bosses, now stirred in their slumber, their awakening threatening to tear the fabric of reality. He, Adrian, the player, was gone.
Only Nyxal remained, a primordial force in a world teetering on the brink, and he was the only "player" in this terrifyingly real game. Every other soul he encountered was not a line of code, but a life, with desires, fears, and free will.
What will Nyxal do first in this terrifying new reality? Will he embrace his demonic power, seek to return to his old life, or something else entirely?