He was blinded, his entire vision was covered with orange light. He backed off, behind the door and sprayed his fire.

The blind wore off and his opponent was right in front of him. He only had 10 ammo points left. It wasn’t enough. He took out his shotgun in a smooth fluid motion and blew the opponents face off. Headshot.

He cast [Heal] on himself and ran away. He couldn’t stay in the same spot after a kill, basic tactics 101. He cast [Conceal] and crouched down on the ground.

He trained his ears, soft footsteps were coming in. He glanced at the map for his team-mate. He was all the way across on the other side. What the fuck is he doing!?

Musnaf spammed in the chat.

[Ihatesage: Healer, where tf r u?]

Now, the person walked out with their gun trained up. They didn’t check in his direction, Musnaf waited for a second and sprayed them with some bullets. He glanced at the corner, [4 Spectators]. It was good to have an audience.

A bloodthirsty grin spread on his face. One more to go. He turned around to move out of the way and a loud, sharp piercing whistle rang out. He was dead. It was a sniper. No, no! I should’ve cast blind before getting out and then dived into cover.

He opened his stats, he had 4 kills this round. He just needed the other guy to kill the sniper. Musnaf switched to his view and…[Ihatesage: What r u doing? Plant!]

He was just in a corner, trying to jump up on a box that was clearly too big for him. [Ihatesage: …dude]

[Popup: He lagging.]

[Team2: Nah, he trolling. gg]

Another sharp whistle rang out and this guy was dead too. [Ihatesage: U trash. gg]

[Defeat] The red blinking on his monitor pissed him off. He smacked his fist down on the table, “Shit!” He hated losing. He picked his keyboard up and was seconds away from smashing it into his monitor but he stopped himself. He couldn’t afford another one. With superhuman will, he placed the keyboard back down.

He grabbed his energy drink and it was empty. He rubbed his eyes and got out of his chair. Sharp, radiating spikes of pain were flowing through his body. His joints cracked and popped, screaming out in protest.

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Not moving out of his chair, eating junk food three times a day, with no physical exercise or sunlight had done wonders for his health. His room was permeated with the neon glow of his gaming computer, plates, wrappers, clothes and just filth in general. It was a disorganized mess.

He opened his refrigerator and it was empty. There were some ketchup packets but no carbonated sugary drinks. He groaned under his breath.

He didn’t have any clocks in the house, it was by design. Knowing how much time he was wasting permeated him with sharp bouts of anxiety and panic.

He rooted through the piles of trash to find his jacket. There was a brown splotch on its left side. He smelled it, it wasn’t that bad. He put it on and walked out of the house.

Frigid gales blasted him. He teetered on his feet. He had to grab the door to keep himself from falling. He shuddered and started walking.

He felt something in his pocket. It was his phone. He wasn’t using it that much these days. He checked his webnovel stats out of habit. It was a compulsion, even though he’d finished it years ago.

He scrolled through the reviews. It wasn’t that famous or anything but it did have a cult following. Most of the reviews were positive, he skipped over the negative ones. One of them just had [Trash, Trash, Trash, Trash…] as the header. He glanced at it and refused to go through it.

[MC is too OP…] was the first line. He pulled his eyes away and shoved it back into his pocket. He didn’t need to see this. It was a work he was proud of nonetheless, for the simple reason that he’d completed it. The ending hadn’t been up to par but he had plowed through it nonetheless.

He rushed into the convenience store and grabbed all the junk food he could carry. He grabbed a bag full of various soft drinks. He wasn’t that picky of an eater. The cashier looked at his disheveled appearance and tried to make small talk, despite it.

“So, you live around here?”

Musnaf just looked up at her and didn’t reply. The awkwardness made her move faster. He paid and left.

It was starting to snow now. He started crossing the street and a car hit him. He catapulted off it and his head hit the pavement first.

There was a sharp crack and it felt cool. His right arm was out of commission. It was twisted up with his hand all the way back unto itself.

He used his left hand to take out his phone and Ding!

It was a notification: [Do you want to live?]

[Yes/No] He couldn’t be bothered with this, he was busy dying at the moment. He clicked on yes and navigated to the phone option.

He heard the engine revving up and glanced down. The car’s lights turned on and it drove straight down to him. It drove over his legs and kept on going.

He screamed out in pain and dropped his phone. He was numb to it for a minute there but the god-awful all-consuming pain enveloped him and his vision turned hazy.

There was someone standing over him. He recognized the distinct lime-green vest. It was the cashier.

[Hi! I would like to report an accident!]

His vision faded out at that. He had a sobering realization that he wouldn’t survive. The only thing that nestled in his chest was regret. He’d wasted and pissed away so much time and opportunity. If only I had another chance… Why am I still thinking?