The orb hovered a few feet above my head, pulsing with a soft, otherworldly light that barely cut through the chaos around me. The streets looked like something out of a disaster movie—sirens blared, cars were overturned, and the occasional fireball exploded somewhere in the distance.

“So, any hints on where I’m supposed to be going?” I asked, side-eyeing the orb as if it might just disappear if I ignored it.

“Your home, Max,” the orb said, its tone annoyingly calm. “The portal is back at your house.”

Of course. Back at my house. A solid three miles away through streets that looked more like a war zone by the minute. “Any chance you could, I don’t know, teleport me there?”

The orb’s pulsing grew brighter, like it was laughing at me. “Where’s the challenge in that? Besides, you’ll need to learn to adapt to the chaos. It’s… expanding.”

“Expanding?” I didn’t like the sound of that. “Expanding how?”

“Your world is destabilizing, Max. Reality is breaking down. The Lord of Cheats has corrupted your realm, causing… anomalies.”

Great. Nothing like a completely corrupted world to make you miss the little things, like functional traffic lights. I took a step forward, glancing around at the rubble-strewn street. Just getting out of here would take a miracle.

Quest Update: Get Home. Fast.

This was officially the worst day of my life.

I started forward, catching sight of a handgun lying near the crumpled remains of a police officer’s jacket. I looked around, grabbing it with a quick flick of the wrist, half-expecting someone to yell at me. The orb pulsed approvingly.

“Ah, a weapon. Good. You’ll need that.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” I muttered, checking the magazine to see it was at least half-loaded. “I have a feeling this is gonna come in handy.”

I glanced up the street, spotting an abandoned sedan idling near a busted fire hydrant. It would have to do. I took a deep breath, sprinting over to the car, and pulled the door open. The keys were still in the ignition, so I threw myself inside, revved the engine, and took off.

The orb floated beside me, ignoring the dents and shattered glass, cool as anything.

“Alright, orb,” I grunted, gripping the wheel as I dodged around a flaming garbage can. “You want to explain what’s causing this breakdown?”

“A powerful entity, known only as the Lord of Cheats, has breached your reality. It corrupts worlds by injecting them with anomalies. It’s already destroyed 3,456 worlds, bending their rules until they shattered.”

I tightened my grip on the wheel. “So… you’re telling me this Lord of Cheats is using cheat codes to break reality?”

“In essence,” it replied. “You may have noticed… glitches.”

“Oh, the floating speech bubbles were my first clue,” I shot back, swerving around an overturned truck.

I veered into an alley to dodge some looters, then back onto the main road, which was blocked by a pileup of police cars, doors flung wide. I slammed on the brakes. Guess I’d have to hoof it from here.

I grabbed the gun, shoved it into my waistband, and bailed out of the car. The orb floated beside me as I jogged through the wreckage of abandoned cars and broken glass. The blocks were familiar, but everything felt twisted, like a half-remembered dream you couldn’t shake.

“Any chance you could give me, I don’t know, cheat codes to make this easier?” I asked, picking my way over a crumpled streetlight.

“Unfortunately, the Lord of Cheats restricts the use of cheats to himself,” the orb replied with what sounded like genuine regret. “You must rely on your natural abilities, Max.”

I gave it a flat look. “So, I have to fight cheat codes with… manual labor?”

The orb pulsed brighter. “Precisely. Think of it as a learning opportunity.”

I ducked around another corner, narrowly avoiding a cluster of people shouting about the “end times.” Just another Tuesday night, apparently.

After several blocks, my house finally came into view—a simple one-story with a lawn I’d neglected for the past month. Relief washed over me, but my victory was short-lived as I spotted Mrs. Henderson, my eighty-year-old neighbor, standing on her porch in a robe, hands on her hips, watching me like I was a toddler caught stealing cookies.

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“Max!” Mrs. Henderson’s voice cut through the wreckage like a siren, the old woman standing firm on her porch as if reality itself wasn’t unraveling around her. She looked me up and down, eyes narrowing at the gun tucked into my waistband, the dirt smeared across my face, the general “just-survived-a-wild-animal-attack” vibe I was sporting.

"Where’s your family?" she asked, hands on her hips like she was about to lecture me about mowing my lawn again.

I forced a tired grin, waving a hand like this was all no big deal. “Oh, you know. Around. I just had to, uh… take care of a few things.”

She squinted past me, sizing up the destruction strewn down the street and then giving the orb floating beside me a wary glance. “That one of those drones? You know, you can’t trust those things. I’ve read they’re watching us.”

“It’s… a long story, Mrs. Henderson. One I don’t exactly have time for.”

As I reached for the doorknob, ready to flee our little chat, something strange washed over me—a stillness, heavy and thick, blanketing the street and snuffing out the constant thrum of chaos. Mrs. Henderson’s voice drifted away, and the world grew quiet.

My vision blurred for a second, then sharpened, and I was no longer looking at my ruined street. I was standing in my own backyard, sun beaming down on a perfect summer day. I could see myself at the grill, flipping burgers, my apron tied lopsided across my chest. The scene was too vivid, too close, like I could reach out and touch it.

My wife was there, splashing in the pool with our son. She was wearing that faded blue swimsuit, the one she’d been meaning to replace for years but never did. My kid shouted as he missed a beach ball by a mile, going under with a gleeful splash, only to pop up a second later, water pouring from his hair and eyes shining with joy. They laughed together, and the sound filled me with a warmth I hadn’t felt in… longer than I could remember.

It wasn’t just a memory—it felt real, alive, like I could step forward and join them. I could practically taste the char of the burgers on the grill, hear the sizzle as they seared. For a second, I forgot about the world burning down outside. I forgot about the orb, the gun, the knocks at the door. I forgot everything but them.

Then a loud, heavy knock echoed through the vision, cutting it to pieces like a hammer through glass. The laughter faded, replaced by the creaking of the warped, busted door.

I blinked, and the scene was gone. Just rubble, Mrs. Henderson’s concerned gaze, and the orb pulsing steadily beside me. Another knock echoed, sharper this time, impatient.

The orb floated close, like it could sense my hesitation. “Max,” it said, voice soft but unyielding. “It’s time.”

I pushed open the door, and there it was—a swirling portal taking up half my living room, churning in shades of sickly purple and green. The thing looked like a wound in the fabric of reality itself, twisting and folding inward, almost hypnotic if you stared at it too long. A draft pulled from somewhere deep within, carrying an unnatural chill that didn’t belong anywhere near my couch or the half-empty coffee mug still sitting on the side table.

I took a step back, stomach churning. The orb floated beside me, pulsing softly, as if waiting for me to make the next move.

"Look," I said, rubbing the back of my neck, "maybe this isn't such a good idea. I mean, portals, reality-breaking, all of this..." I gestured at the spiraling vortex, the house I might not see again if I stepped through it. "What if I just… don’t?"

The orb’s glow flickered in a way that felt almost like a sigh. "Max," it said, calm as ever, "you’ve seen the state of your world. This is the only way to set things right. Hesitation is natural, but there’s more at stake here than your comfort zone."

“Comfort zone?” I laughed bitterly, taking in the eerie swirl of the portal and the way everything around it seemed to ripple, like the walls themselves were afraid of it. “This is my house, orb. My life. And now you’re telling me I need to jump through some... glitchy nightmare doorway to chase down a cosmic cheat code?”

“Or you can let the corruption spread,” it replied, floating a little closer. “You’ve seen how fast it’s moving. Every second you delay, another piece of your world fractures. But if you go now—if you face the Lord of Cheats—there’s a chance.”

I swallowed, glancing around the room, trying to fix every detail in my mind: the scuff marks on the hardwood floor, the way the light filtered in through the curtains, the half-forgotten book lying open on the arm of the couch. This was supposed to be the safe place. But now it felt like the last few seconds of something I might never get back.

"So, once I go through that thing," I said, jerking a thumb at the portal, "there’s no guarantee I come back?”

The orb’s pulsing slowed, like it was considering my question. “No,” it admitted, its tone almost gentle. “But if you stay, Max… there’s no guarantee anything will be left to come back to.”

I stared into the twisting colors, nerves fraying with every second. A part of me wanted to walk away, hole up somewhere and hope the world would somehow fix itself. But I’d seen too much to believe that now.

took a deep breath, eyes fixed on the portal, the colors swirling in a nauseating dance of purples and greens. Every instinct screamed at me to turn back, shut the door, and forget this whole cosmic disaster. But the orb was right—things had already gone too far.

I clenched my fists, steeling myself. “Alright,” I muttered, jaw tight. “I’ll go. But I’m doing this to find them. My family. Not for some grand, world-saving mission, or because it’s ‘the right thing to do,’” I added, shooting the orb a look. “I just… I need to know they’re safe.”

The orb pulsed, casting soft light across the room. “That’s reason enough, Max.”

I glanced around the house one last time, memories flashing through every corner—the couch where we’d pile up on movie nights, the dining table my son had somehow covered with crayon marks that never quite came off. It was all so close, yet slipping away. I couldn’t let that happen without a fight.

Turning back to the portal, I steeled myself, ignoring the fear twisting in my gut. This wasn’t just some quest for survival; it was about them. My wife’s laugh, my son’s grin—their faces etched in my mind, pulling me forward.

I took one last look over my shoulder. “If this Lord of Cheats thinks he can mess with my family,” I muttered, stepping toward the portal, “he’s got another thing coming.”

And with that, I plunged into the churning light, leaving everything else behind.