Aaron sat in his spacious, modern apartment, the hum of his computer the only sound accompanying him in the vast silence of the night. He had just finished reading through a detailed financial report about Eternal Night, the game that had become more than a project. It was his life’s work, a game that not only took over the gaming world but also changed his life in ways he hadn’t imagined.

As he leaned back in his chair, Aaron allowed his eyes to wander across the sleek furniture, the polished surfaces, and the subtle décor. He had worked tirelessly to reach this point—a point where everything felt effortless, where the weight of financial stress no longer hung over him, and where success was a daily reality. Eternal Night had taken off in ways he couldn’t have predicted. It had become a cultural phenomenon. Players from all over the world were obsessed, and the community was growing at an exponential rate.

And with that success came a level of fortune he never anticipated. He had invested wisely and leveraged the game’s success into a range of lucrative ventures. His gaming studio, which once operated from a small office space, had now grown into a sprawling campus with hundreds of employees. Aaron’s business acumen had matched his programming genius, and the result was a financial empire that was still expanding. The sale of merchandise, limited edition versions of the game, and even licensing for Eternal Night spin-offs had contributed to a rapidly increasing bank balance.

But as Aaron sat back in his chair, scrolling through reports, a sense of heaviness settled in his chest. He had everything he had ever dreamed of: wealth, fame, and respect in the gaming industry. He was financially secure for the rest of his life. He could stop working today, retire early, and never worry about money again. Yet, there was an unsettling emptiness that crept into his thoughts.

He leaned forward and pressed his fingertips against his temples, closing his eyes for a moment. Why does this feel so hollow? he wondered. The game had consumed him for years, and now that it was a resounding success, he had achieved everything he set out to do. So why did it feel like there was still something missing?

The sound of his phone vibrating on the desk jolted him out of his reverie. He picked it up and glanced at the screen: another message from his manager, Steve.

"Aaron, I just wanted to check in. The game is still breaking records, and we’re looking at new ways to expand—merchandising, VR possibilities, collaborations with other franchises. We’re thinking big. I’ll be in touch tomorrow to discuss. Hope you’re doing okay!"

Aaron sighed and placed the phone back on the desk, rubbing his face. It was flattering to see the game continue to grow, but part of him felt like the more it expanded, the more out of his control it became. Maybe that’s the problem, he thought. Maybe I’ve created something so big, so complex, that it’s beyond me now. Maybe it’s time to step away, let someone else take the reins.

That thought lingered in his mind as he gazed out the window. The city skyline stretched before him, lights flickering in the distance like stars in a vast, concrete galaxy. For the first time in years, Aaron felt like he was on the outside looking in at a world that wasn’t quite his any more. He had poured his entire self into Eternal Night—his late nights, his social isolation, his strained relationships—and now that the game was a success, it felt like he was standing at the precipice of a new life. But he wasn’t sure what to do next.

There were still hackers like the Deciever from long ago and many more that Aaron and his team still hadn’t taken care of.

Should I keep going?

He had always been driven, always searching for the next challenge. But now, the game had plateaued. Its success was beyond measure, and there was no “next” to chase any more. The prospect of exploring new ventures outside of gaming—maybe something creative, something artistic—seemed appealing. Maybe I’ll start painting, he thought with a rueful smile. Maybe I’ll write a novel. Maybe I’ll just take a damn vacation for once.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

The uncertainty felt odd, like a strange burden he couldn’t quite shake.

With a deep breath, Aaron stood and walked over to the expansive window, pressing his hand against the cool glass. He looked out over the city below, his thoughts drifting in a new direction. I’ve come so far, he thought, and yet, there’s still this nagging feeling. This emptiness.

His success had come at a cost. The late nights had meant missing out on friendships. His relationships had all but crumbled under the weight of his obsession with perfection. He had built a legacy with Eternal Night, but it was a legacy made of code and pixels—something intangible. Something that didn’t fill the void inside of him. What did that mean for his future?

But Aaron was also no fool. He knew this feeling would pass eventually. Success always brought a period of doubt, and perhaps this was just his moment to reflect. After all, this had been the culmination of everything he had worked for. The game was alive. It was thriving. It was his.

But then again, was he truly ready to let go?

He turned away from the window and walked back to his desk. The cursor blinked at him from the screen, a constant reminder of his world. The flickering of the screen distracted him momentarily. He rubbed his eyes and stared harder, as if something was off.

It’s probably just the lighting, he thought, but still, there was something strange about the way the screen was pulsing, almost like it was alive. Then, without warning, the screen flickered once more—this time longer, as if it were struggling to maintain its image.

Aaron stood up, suddenly alert. The lights of his apartment seemed to dim as the computer screen began to flash with erratic intensity. His heart raced. He reached for the mouse, but before he could click, the screen lit up so brightly that the entire room was bathed in an intense white light.

The hum from the computer grew louder, almost deafening. It felt as though the very air around him was vibrating. His chest tightened. Something was wrong. Something wasn’t right.

He reached for the keyboard, but before his fingers could touch the keys, the screen exploded with light. He stumbled back, his breath quickening as the light seemed to pull him toward it. He couldn’t look away. The pull was magnetic, inescapable, like gravity itself had turned on him. His heart pounded in his chest.

Without thinking, Aaron reached out toward the screen, half in awe and half in fear, as the light surged forward, enveloping his body in a flash of energy.

Everything went black.

For what felt like an eternity, Aaron was weightless, suspended in the void. His body felt like it was being stretched, then compressed, then pulled in a thousand directions at once. He tried to scream, but there was no sound. His eyes were wide open, but there was nothing to see except a blur of colour and light that seemed to swallow him whole.

And then, as abruptly as it had begun, the sensation stopped.

Aaron’s body hit the ground with a thud. He gasped for air, feeling the familiar weight of the world around him. But when his eyes opened, it was not his apartment he saw. He was no longer in the safety of his home. He was back inside Eternal Night.

The world around him was dark, the same ominous night scape of the game, but this time it felt different. The sounds were muffled, distant. A faint, ghostly whisper seemed to echo around him, like the game itself was alive and aware of his presence. The air was thick with an electric tension, and Aaron’s heart skipped a beat. How is this possible?

He stood up shakily, taking in the familiar yet eerie landscape. The trees that loomed in the distance, the faint glow of the game’s eerie city on the horizon—it was all here. But this time, it felt more real, more tangible, than ever before, outside, he was The Programmer, but here? He was a part of the code, a mere shadow.

And then, from somewhere deep within him, a realization hit.

The game hadn’t just drawn him back. It had never let him leave.