Chapter 1: The Last Match
Zayn Arif tightened his grip on the phone, his thumbs dancing with precise rhythm across the screen. His breathing was shallow, focused. The sound of gunfire and footsteps echoed through his noise-canceling headset, but to Zayn, it was music. His fingers moved faster.
Only two players left.
The safe zone had shrunk to a circle the size of a parking lot. He crouched behind a boulder near the edge, peeking over just enough to catch a glimpse of movement in the grass.
"He's prone. East side," Zayn whispered to himself.
With a flick of his thumb, he tossed a grenade toward the bushes. A second later—BOOM—a body flew out into the open. Zayn rushed in, his M1887 shotgun ready.
Two shots. Victory.
The screen flashed.
[BOOYAH!]
Zayn leaned back in his chair, letting out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. The chat on his streaming screen exploded.
> "Insane clutch!"
> "Zayn = GOAT"
> "Bro's reflexes are inhuman!"
> "Zayn Arif wins the Asia Championship!!!"
He smiled faintly, not from pride, but from relief. The pressure was over. For now.
Zayn removed his headset, the room suddenly quiet. Just the hum of his PC and the faint tick of the wall clock remained. His team had already logged off. The manager had sent a short congrats. Even his phone was quiet, despite the flood of messages and mentions.
Outside the window, the city lights blinked like stars. His eyes drooped. The fatigue finally hit him.
"I'll sleep… just for a minute."
He didn't even make it to his bed. His head slumped forward, and darkness pulled him in.
—
The wind was the first thing he felt.
Cold and sharp, it rushed past his ears. Then, a sudden drop in his stomach.
Zayn's eyes snapped open.
He wasn't in his room.
He was falling.
A massive landscape stretched beneath him—an island of forests, rivers, and crumbling factories. All too familiar.
"No way…"
He looked down. A parachute pack was strapped to his back. A glowing flight route hovered in the air above a holographic aircraft that had already disappeared.
[Welcome, Player Zayn Arif]
[Match Start in: 15 seconds]
"What the hell is this?" he breathed, his voice lost in the wind.
The countdown ticked down in front of him, glowing in digital blue.
He reached for his pocket—no phone. No controller. But his body moved like he was still playing. Intuitively, he shifted position midair, adjusting his descent. The controls felt natural… too natural.
The countdown reached zero.
[Match Start!]
His parachute auto-deployed, slowing his fall. Below, a small cluster of buildings came into view—hangars, containers, and a familiar water tower.
This is Bermuda, he realized. But… it's real.
He hit the ground with a grunt, rolling instinctively and coming up to his feet. He could feel the gravel under his hands. The air smelled like dust and oil. This wasn't a game anymore.
Yet—
[Auto-pickup Enabled]
[Pistol (USP) Acquired]
[Backpack Level 1 Acquired]
Floating blue text hovered in front of his vision. He stared, blinking.
"No way. This is the game interface. But I can feel everything…"
Before he could finish the thought, a distant shot rang out. A red warning blinked.
[Enemy Nearby]
He ducked into the nearest building, heart pounding. A real heart. A real sound. Not a vibration or sound effect.
Zayn held the USP like he'd never held a real gun before—because he hadn't. It was cold, heavier than expected, but somehow… his hands knew what to do.
Footsteps.
Outside.
He aimed at the door, eyes wide. The door creaked open—
"Zayn?"
A girl stepped in. Dressed in a yellow jacket, her brown hair tied back. Her eyes widened when she saw him.
"You… you're new."
He didn't lower the gun. "Who are you?"
"I'm Kelly," she said. "Speedster Squad. You're not supposed to be here, are you?"
Zayn's mind raced. Kelly? The in-game character? But she looked real—flesh and blood, breathing, blinking.
"Where is this?" he demanded.
"You're in Free Zone," she said, as if that explained everything. "The Game World. Where we fight, die, and respawn… if we're lucky."
Zayn lowered the gun slowly. His head was spinning.
"This is a dream," he muttered. "It's just a dream. I passed out during stream."
Kelly's eyes narrowed. "No dream lets you feel pain."
She suddenly grabbed a piece of glass from the floor and slashed his arm lightly.
"OW!"
He stumbled back, clutching his forearm. A red line appeared—real blood.
[HP -3]
Zayn's eyes widened in horror.
"This isn't happening."
"It is," Kelly said softly. "And if you want to survive, you'll have to learn fast."
She turned to leave.
"Wait—why am I here? I'm just a player!"
She paused at the door.
"There are no 'just' players anymore. You've been chosen. And that means…"
[Special System Activated]
[Respawn System: Bound to Player Zayn Arif]
[Number of Respawns: 1]
[Cooldown: 48 Hours]
Zayn stared as the notifications appeared before his eyes.
"What the hell is this…?"
Kelly looked back over her shoulder.
"Looks like you've been given a cheat code. Lucky you."
She stepped outside. Gunfire echoed in the distance.
Zayn stood alone in the room, bleeding slightly, heart thudding.
This was no longer a game.
This was real.
And he only had one life left before it was game over—for good.