Gaming was Gray Mercer's sanctuary, a pixelated middle finger to the soul-crushing grind of reality.
In the virtual world of Eclipse: Dawn of Ruin, he wasn't a 27-year-old unemployed man mooching off his best friend's couch.
He was a blade-wielding rogue, raiding dungeons and racking up loot like a digital Robin Hood.
No need to worry about stable jobs, marriage by 30, or the looming dread of kids who'd wipe your butt in old age.
In the game, you could be a mage, a guild boss, or — if you grinded hard enough — a freaking Baron with a castle and a fan club of NPCs.
Real life? Not so much.
Real life was bills, judgmental aunts, and women who ghosted you if your bank account didn't have six zeros.
Gray yanked off his VR headset, the sleek black gear hissing as it powered down.
[August 15, 2035, 6:45 p.m.]
This was Crescent Bay. His friend's guest room smelled like stale pizza and regret, but today had been a win.
He and his Eclipse squad had stormed a dungeon, snagging a Flamebrand Sword and enough Data Shards to make his avatar swagger.
"Not bad for a guy who trips over his own ego," he muttered, stretching.
His reflection in the cracked mirror wasn't exactly anime-protagonist material — 5'11", a bit of a gut from too many late-night tacos, gray-tinted hair he'd dyed a year ago because it looked "badass."
It kinda did, in the right light, but no woman was swooning over his charm anytime soon.
"Introverts stay losing," he sighed, dreaming briefly of someone like Emma.
Emma Brooks, his best friend Nathan's wife, was a walking Instagram filter. Blonde hair that fell just right, curves that could stop traffic, and a smile so warm it made Gray's cynicism take a nap.
She'd let a deadbeat like him crash at their Crescent Bay apartment after his parents gave him the boot — something about "get a job or get out."
Emma didn't judge. She cooked, she laughed at his dumb jokes, and she was married to Nathan, the guy living Gray's dream life: steady job, hot wife, a car that didn't wheeze like an asthmatic grandpa.
If Gray ever got hitched, it'd be to someone like her. Not that he'd say that out loud.
Awkward.
Downstairs, Emma was setting the dinner table, a vision in a floral apron that probably cost more than Gray's entire wardrobe.
The kitchen smelled of roasted chicken and garlic, and Gray's stomach growled like a Zombie Grunt from Eclipse.
"Yo, Emma, you're out here making Michelin-star meals for bums like me?" he teased, flopping into a chair.
She flashed that million-dollar smile, tucking a strand of shoulder-length blonde behind her ear.
"Someone's gotta keep you alive, Gray. Nathan's running late, so you're stuck with me." Her voice was light, but her eyes held a quiet strength, like she could stitch you up after a bar fight and scold you for starting it.
"Fair trade," Gray said, pulling out his phone. "Lemme bug the man of the hour."
He dialed Nathan, who picked up after two rings. "Yo, dude, when you getting home? Emma's food's gonna fossilize."
Nathan's voice crackled through, cheerful but distracted. "Give me ten minutes, man. Filling up the car at the gas station. Gotta keep the ride shiny."
"Shiny? Bro, you drive a Honda, not a Lambo," Gray snorted. "Don't crash on your way back, alright? I'm not explaining that to Emma."
"Psh, I'm a pro. Catch you soon." Nathan hung up, and Gray shook his head, grinning.
Emma slid a plate of chicken and mashed potatoes in front of him, and they swapped easy banter, the kind that made Gray forget he was a third wheel in their perfect life.
"So," she said, sitting across from him, "you gonna keep living in virtual dungeons forever, or what?"
"Hey, those dungeons pay better than my last gig," Gray shot back, miming a sword swing. "Slashed a Stalker today. Got a sick sword. Real world's got nothing on that."
If there was another thing he liked about Emma, she was a gamer too, a retired one but a gamer was still a gamer in his books so she could understand his game terms.
Emma laughed, but before she could reply, the ground shook.
Not a little tremor — a full-on, dishes-rattling, heart-stopping rumble, like the Earth had decided to do a barrel roll.
The evening sun, still peeking through the window, snuffed out, replaced by a full moon glowing an unnatural crimson.
Cracks spiderwebbed across the floor, and distant wails pierced the air.
They didn't sound human at all.
Gray's phone buzzed, Nathan's name flashing, but the call cut to static, replaced by a guttural growl.
"Nathan?" Gray's voice cracked. "You okay, man?"
No answer.
Just pain-soaked groans, like Nathan was fighting for his life. Gray's pulse hammered.
"Nathan, talk to me!"
A translucent screen flickered into view, hovering in the air like a sci-fi hologram.
Emma gasped, her own screen appearing before her. Bold white text pulsed against a black backdrop:
[Apocalypse Starts in 00:00:10]
Gray's jaw dropped. "Apocalypse? What is this, a prank show?" He glanced at Emma, who was frozen, eyes wide.
The countdown ticked down.
[Apocalypse Starts in 00:00:08]
"Hey, dude, you okay?!" Gray shouted into the phone, panic creeping in.
Nathan's voice came through, weak and ragged.
"Gray… do something for me…"
[Apocalypse Starts in 00:00:06]
"Yeah, man, anything! What's going on?" Gray's hands shook, gripping the phone like a lifeline.
"Take care of Emma… make her happy for me… she shouldn't cry…" Nathan's words were slurred, fading.
"Bro, why do you sound like you're dying?" Gray's voice broke, half-laughing, half-pleading. "Don't pull a movie cliché on me!"
[Apocalypse Starts in 00:00:02]
"Thanks, man… take care…" Nathan's voice cut off, replaced by a growl that sounded inhuman.
[Apocalypse Starts in 00:00:00]
[The Apocalypse has begun.]
And then...
The world turned black.