Something gnawed at me as I headed back up to the safe zone. The unease didn’t fade until I saw the formerly deceased players beginning to respawn. Relief washed over me as they flickered back to life, logging out one by one, their avatars vanishing into thin air. I had no idea how long they’d been trapped down there—or what they had gone through—but nobody here mentioned a word. Maybe they had seen the carnage and retreated. I wouldn’t have blamed them if they had.

The tension in my chest eased slightly, and I decided to call it a day. Heading to the in-game tavern, I sat at a rickety wooden table, logged out, and placed the headset beside me. The dim light of my apartment was jarring after hours in the game’s haunting dungeons. I rubbed my eyes and reached for my phone, finding a message from Mira.

Hey, check out the forums when you get a chance.

I clicked the link she’d sent, and the game forums loaded up. Dozens of posts flooded the screen, a mix of frantic complaints and heartfelt thank-yous. Most centered around the same topic: the mysterious player who’d somehow saved them.

A notification flashed on my screen—an incoming call.

“Nice work,” came a familiar voice. It was Sato Junko, head of QA at the company behind the game.

“So… they were trapped like me, then?” I asked. My voice felt heavier than I’d expected. “Only… in a worse situation?”

“The embedded code in their VR headsets was altered,” Sato said, her tone neutral but professional. “Since you managed to defeat that Ascended player using corrupted code, everything’s been restored. You’re like a walking QA team, you know?” She chuckled softly, but it did little to lighten the mood.

I wasn’t in the mood for praise. “If you know so much, why are you dragging your heels on this? Have you figured out who’s behind it? These ‘Ascended’… they’re not just cheating; they’re breaking the game. Moving faster than average players, using corrupted code, killing people, even…” My voice trailed off, bile rising in my throat at the thought of what I'd seen.

Sato sighed, a sound of exasperation and fatigue. “We’ve traced it back to Takahiro Sakaguchi.”

The name hit like a gut punch. “Wait—the Takahiro Sakaguchi? He was one of the original devs, wasn’t he?”

“Exactly,” she said grimly. “He was a major cog in how the game’s systems work. He designed the movement and combat mechanics, which explains why these Ascended can break speed caps and exploit the system so efficiently.”

“And you know where he is?” I asked, my voice sharp.

“We’ve located his in-game hideout,” she admitted. “It’s where he spawns and gathers his Ascended recruits. The problem is, he’s using corrupted client-side code alongside server-side GM privileges. He’s essentially bypassing all our safeguards and firewalls.”

I gritted my teeth. “So you’re saying you can’t stop him?”

“We’re working on it,” Sato said, frustration creeping into her voice. “But people like Takahiro know the system inside and out. Every block we put up, he sidesteps it with something else. It’s like playing chess with someone who’s always two moves ahead.”

Her words hung heavy in the air. I felt the weight of what I’d done start to settle in. “The Ascended I fought... did his headset kill him? Or was that just another bluff?” I asked quietly, dreading the answer.

Sato hesitated. “The VR set that player was using… malfunctioned. The cooling system overheated. It… burned out his eyes.”

I felt my stomach churn. “You’re telling me… I killed him?” My voice cracked on the last word, the bile rising higher.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“No,” she said quickly, firmly. “This wasn’t your fault. Takahiro is overriding the system remotely. He’s the one responsible for these malfunctions—he’s intentionally turning the hardware against the players.”

But her words did nothing to settle the nausea clawing at me. I dropped the call and bolted for the bathroom. The bile finally spilled over, and I retched into the toilet.

I didn’t care about being the “mysterious savior” in the forums. I didn’t care about the thank-yous or the praise. All I could think about was the charred eyes of a player I didn’t know, and the sickening fact that I’d been part of this nightmare.

The TV blared in the background, a news anchor reporting on the tragedy with a clinical detachment that made my stomach churn.

"In a shocking incident, a VR headset malfunctioned during gameplay, causing catastrophic injuries to a 13-year-old boy. The device’s cooling system reportedly overheated, burning the boy’s eyes and leaving him permanently blinded. Authorities are investigating, but experts say this may be connected to recent reports of corrupted game code."

The image of the boy’s parents flashed on screen. They were young, their faces pale and lined with grief, as they stood outside a hospital, clutching each other. Their tears blurred as my vision swam. My stomach twisted again, and I doubled over the sink, retching violently.

The sound of a door opening barely registered. Mira’s voice cut through my haze.

“Hey! Are you okay?”

I turned, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. Mira stood frozen in the doorway, eyes wide with concern. She dropped her bag and rushed to my side.

“I’m fine,” I croaked, though the bile rising in my throat betrayed me.

“You don’t look fine,” she said, steadying me as I swayed. Her eyes searched mine, filled with worry.

“I… I was responsible for someone being seriously hurt,” I said hoarsely.

Mira froze for a moment, her hand gripping my arm tighter. “That kid on TV? You… did that?”

I shook my head, the weight of her words pressing down on my chest. “Not directly, but… it feels like I did.”

She guided me to sit on the closed toilet lid, crouching in front of me, her hands on my knees. “Talk to me,” she said gently.

I took a shaky breath. “That kid was one of the Ascended. He was breaking the game, trying to kill other players. I stopped him. But his headset… the code he was using—it must’ve overridden the safety mechanisms. It overheated and… burned him.”

Mira’s face was pale, but her eyes stayed locked on mine. “You’re saying this wasn’t a glitch? Someone made the headset do that?”

I nodded. “Takahiro Sakaguchi. He’s a former dev. He’s been turning the game into a deathtrap. Somehow, he’s weaponized the VR headsets. I…” My voice faltered, memories of being trapped in the game flooding back. “He almost got me, too. Being locked in like that, paralyzed, unable to log out—it’s like being awake during surgery. You’re screaming inside, but nothing works.”

Mira grabbed my hand, squeezing it tight. “Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?”

I looked away, shame creeping in. “What was I supposed to say? That I’m playing a game where people can die in real life? That I might’ve caused it?”

“You didn’t cause it,” she said firmly. “This Takahiro guy did. He’s the one pulling the strings, not you.”

I shook my head. “It doesn’t matter what Sato or anyone else says. I was the one who struck the final blow. I’m the reason that kid’s in the hospital.”

Mira stood and crossed her arms, her tone shifting from gentle to firm. “Listen to me. You’re not responsible for his injuries. You’re trying to stop people like Takahiro. If you hadn’t taken that Ascended down, how many more players would’ve died or been trapped like you? You’re doing what the devs should be doing.”

Her words struck a chord, but the guilt still clung to me. “Maybe I should just step away. Let the devs handle it.”

Mira frowned. “That’s not you talking, that’s your guilt. You’re stubborn as hell—always have been. Don’t let one tragedy derail what you’ve been doing.”

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “What if it happens again? What if more people get hurt because I’m trying to play the hero?”

“Then you figure out a way to stop it,” she said without hesitation. “You said this Takahiro guy is using corrupted code, right? Maybe there’s a way to fight back, to take the Ascended down without killing them. Isn’t there some way to disable their code without dealing lethal damage?”

I grimaced. “The game isn’t built for that. Non-lethal classes don’t exist in Age of Eternity. It’s all swords, spells, and death. If they come after me—or other players—I don’t see any other way.”

Mira sighed, leaning against the bathroom sink. “Maybe not now, but games have glitches, exploits. If Takahiro can manipulate the system, maybe you can, too. There has to be a way to fight back without risking more lives.”

Her words hung in the air, heavy with possibility. For the first time since the fight, I felt a spark of hope.

“You always know how to put things in perspective,” I said, managing a weak smile.

“That’s because I care about you, idiot,” she said, her tone softening. “Now, how about I make you some tea, and we figure out your next move?”

I nodded, grateful for her steady presence. For now, I could breathe a little easier. But deep down, I knew the fight was far from over.