At the centre of a megalopolis allocated a tower, with a massive billboard on top. A black and white helmet was painted in the middle of the board, followed by “GameOver Tower” below.

  Taller than any skyscrapers in the city and shinier than any club’s headlights, the glamorous construction belonged to a corporation, GameOver, and functioned as a headquarter for the company and as a complex for the employees.

  Unofficially, the building had become an urban symbol. Malls surrounded the tower. Restaurant’s owners either moved or opened branches nearby. Hotels, casinos, and stadiums sprouted like mushroom after a rain.

  The scene seemed obvious to newcomers, however, as for Kiamon, the view wasn’t like this 15 years ago.

  Crossing his hands behind his back, Kiamon let out a sigh and fixed his silver, spiky hair. Wrapped in a thick, crimson robe, he still shivered as a gust blew by. The window was still open. Yet, he wasn’t bothered to close it. Unless a thief could fly, a theft on this 130th floor was apparently impossible.

  Behind him lied a set of grey, U-shaped sofa, made of goatskin. Kiamon’d always tried to keep it clean and tidy, for all the troubles and a cut-throat price he had got to lay his hand on this masterpiece. Common factories didn’t make a couch out of goatskin, costing him a month to find a workshop on the other side of the Earth. And since he had a few trusts issue with people, Kiamon had to fly back and forth between the manufacturer and his accommodation for another month.

  In front of the sofa there was a table, a few centimeters taller than the seat. Kiamon enjoyed resting his feet on the countertop. Thus he had it made of bulletproof glass, for both aesthetic and convenience.

  Kiamon’s shadow loomed over the furniture as he walked under the dim light. Three rows of down lights not only brightened the room but also adjust the temperature within. Their light also highlighted a medallion, similar to the painting on the billboard encrusted with gemstones, serving as an emblem of his family.

  *Knock knock*

  “Come in!”

  A figure walked in, taller and thinner than him. He had got black hair and a pair of glasses, dressing in the same garment as Kiamon.

  “Where the hell is your phone?”

  Kiamon’s eyes widened, moving from his friend to his hands, which were empty. “Errr. I don’t know… Hee hee. What’s up Fern?”

  “The fuck?” Fern sighed and shook his head. “Unbelievable. Do you need a brain replacement?”

  “It’s still functional!” Kiamon wryly grinned, avoiding Fern’s death stare. “But what now?”

  “'What now’ my ass. We’re waiting for you in the meeting room. ‘Original Sword’s release, remember?”

  “Oh shoot! I forgot.” Kiamon exclaimed and burst into the corridor.

  “Like you ever remember.” Fern shrugged and followed.

  Within seconds, both of them arrived at a double-doored entrance, much larger than any rooms in the building. Two rikies engraved on the doors were roaring at each other, both standing on a giant ball with their front legs.

  The doors here were heavier than those in the other rooms. Made of redwood and stainless steel, they had costed Kiamon a chest of gold, excluding the shipment fee.

  As he and Fern walked in, the interior reflected the harmony with the entries. Timbers assembled as a complex surface for walls, creating an utmost soundproofed room.

  One of his friends had had all their edges and corners ground for safety, mostly for him, since Kiamon was so clumsy that he kept bumping into furniture. There was one time when he was sinking too deep into his thought, his head hit the door hard enough to swell and bleed.

  “You finally decide to show up?” a man sitting on a sofa asked. He’d got short, black hair and dressed in a sporty outfit.

  “You don’t know shit, Ladori.” Fern growled. “I had to get him by myself.”

  Opposite to Ladori sat another man, dressing in t-shirt and shorts. “He needs an escort, eh?”

  “I would be much happier if you picked me up, Egal,” Kiamon replied.

  Everyone took their seat. Kiamon quickly grabbed a cup of lemon tea and a piece of biscuit on the table in front of them, whereas his friends picked sweeter drinks like soda and soft drink.

  After some minutes of enjoying the dessert, Fern pulled out a tablet and surfed on its screen.

  “I believe that you all still remember the Original Sword’s release date is coming soon.” Fern turned on a big screen and connected it to the tablet. “This is the summary of the event. If you want to make any changes, do it now.”

  It was all what they had discussed for the ceremony, thus no one said any words.

  There were quite some activities on the day. Since Original Sword was a sequel and a replacement for the current most popular game, Rusty Armor, they threw in tons of appealing prizes as rewards and gratitude.

  Without the success of Rusty Armor, GameOver would have been only an insignificant game producer in this big world. The great achievement allowed them to recruit talented people and released more amazing games. Later on, their company grew up to become an international corporation, renowned in mostly all nations.

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  The 10-year journey would end in a couple of days. Kiamon and his friends wanted their customers to have the most memorable experience ever. Everything must be perfect.

  “Have you checked the gifts? Have they arrived? Do we have enough?” Kiamon asked.

  “All well.” Fern nodded after scanning the checklist. “The merchandise is all here. The warehouse keepers have reported it this afternoon.”

  “Better go see it personally.” Egal reminded. “The souvenirs?”

  “Stocked. But you’re right. We needa be certain.”

  “I would go.” Kiamon raised a hand. “I’m free, anyway.”

  “We know. But should you go?” Ladori took a sip of soft drink.

  “Why not?”

  Egal jumped in. “Remember the time you looked for me at the headquarters and got stopped by the security guards?”

  “Yeah, I remember that.” Ladori laughed. “Furthermore, a new employee almost called the police on you when she saw you searching my drawers in my office.”

  “Shouldn’t be that bad, right?” Kiamon said.

  “Not as bad. Just worse.”

  Everyone burst into laughter. In the end, it was Fern to verify the items’ availability. No one wanted to see Kiamon arrested in their own warehouse, albeit Kiamon himself wondered what it was like. Not that he was a masochist or something, but he liked drama.

  Anyway, this might not be the kind of drama his friends liked.

  The meeting surpassed midnight after they went through some more important decisions. Once all four of them agreed every term about the releasing date, they headed to the gaming room.

  As they walked past another pair of wooden doors, the dark room automatically turned on the light via movement sensors. It was twice bigger than any other rooms in the building for they usually gathered here to have fun together.

  The greatest events, according to GameOver owners, were painted on three walls whilst a picture of their company's first opening was engraved on the ceiling. Albeit his friends rarely looked at those portraits, Kiamon often took a glance at them, sometimes reliving the precious moments.

  Four massive screens sat on separate desks opposite to the entrance, their computer cases hidden. Gaming chairs differed among the friends since they had unique taste, but all with superior quality. A full-dive device resembling a helmet rested on each of them, allowing Kiamon’s group to experience the games with the most realisticity.

  Truth to be told, they partly designed this gadget. Fern and Ladori contributed the most in programming the software, and Egal persuaded an illustrious company to produce the hardware. Their success made Kiamon feel superfluous in the business, albeit his fellows always told him otherwise.

  On the right hung a massive white scroll, which acted as a computer screen in order to view movies or videos. They spent most of their free time here during any international tournaments. It took them some time to figure out where to hold a projector. The ceiling was a no because it disrupted the ceremony portrait. After a few arguments, everyone agreed to hang it at the intersection of the left wall and the ceiling.

  Shelves of books and video game carts rested on the left of the room. Kiamon lost the count of their number. He and his friends grew up without much, not being able to afford a favorite but expensive game. Thanks to a rare opportunity in the gaming software industry, they arose as pioneers and caught the wave. Thus, they grabbed most things they liked when they were released. Despite the accumulation, this trend wasn’t going to stop soon.

  Computers started by themselves as the group took their seat. Screens were locked, then unlocked once they looked directly at the camera. There Kiamon glanced at the icons of Original Sword and Rusty Armor.

  “Log-in now?” he asked when putting the full-dive helmet on.

  “What are you waiting for?” Ladori replied with an eyebrow furrow.

  “Which one?”

  “Are you fucking kidding with me? Original Sword!”

  “You really have to reply to him?” Egal said.

  With a grin, Kiamon felt no guilt at all. “Then let’s go!”

  In seconds, a stone chamber replaced their gaming room. An oval granite table was in the center, surrounded by four silver chairs of different heights and sizes. Flags with various emblems were hung on walls. A row with a wide range of armors stood opposite to heavy metal double-doors.

  On two sides rested four sculptures portraying Kiamon’s and his friends’ in-game characters.

  “Nothing changes.” Kiamon said.

  “What do you expect? It takes us a whole damn week to move everything from Rusty Armor to this Original Sword.” Ladori exclaimed.

  “Ah yes. Too much time.”

  Ladori threw a punch at Kiamon’s shoulder, but missed.

  “Go outside!” Egal flicked his head toward the exit.

  The group followed him and left their nest, twin towers. They’d got multi-layers of upward-curved roofs, all black. Row after row of bells jingled within a colossal cavern. Countless stony spikes with sharp ends protruded from ceilings and walls, threatening any intruders.

  Kiamon’s group walked through the corridor full of lethal traps with absolute safety. They were, after all, the masters of this dungeon.

  He never forgot the day they conquered this place, which was swarmed with Rusty Armor’s strongest bosses. Truth to be told, this cave and those godlike creatures were the only features they kept in Original Sword. The area was locked from any accesses other than themselves.

  Players of the new game, including Kiamon and his fellows, would face new challenges.

  “I hope the players like the new bosses.” Kiamon said.

  “Did I just see an evil smile?” Ladori asked.

  “What? No!”

  “Kiamon! Did you do anything behind our back?” Fern furrowed his eyebrows. “You remember how many times we had to nerf the bosses? Because of whom?”

  “Eeerrr. Me?”

  “And you still—”

  “Okay! Stop here!” Egal interfered with his arms raised. “First—”

  An explosion, followed by a crack of lightning, deafened and gave them goosebumps. A pair of gigantic, clawed-hands pierced through the sky, as if from another dimension, and tore open into this world.

  A faceless head with a grinning mouth leaned forward and stared down at them. Kiamon saw nothing else but an absurdly long neck and bony shoulders.

  With a low, thunderous voice, it spoke. “I COME RIGHT ON TIME.”

  Its words along brought enough pressure to Kiamon. In the game, he shouldn’t feel much due to game restriction. Feeling was forbidden according to the international policy. Yet, he could barely breathe at the moment.

  “Who are you?” Egal asked.

  “LET’S GO, WORLD BUILDERS. COME TO MY WORLD. MAKE IT STRONGER.”

  “It doesn’t answer my question.” Egal shook his head.

  “Let me.” Kiamon stepped forward. “WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?”

  “A GOD. YOU BOW.” It raised a hand, and then drop it.

  An invisible force slammed Kiamon on the ground, followed by his mates.

  No one could move a finger.

  This incident reminded him of how powerless he was in the past. vicious flame of rage burnt his heart. Yet, Kiamon didn’t find any strength to push himself up.

  “YOU. ARE. DEAD. BITCH!” his mind screamed a silent curse.

  “MY WORLD IS WEAK. COME. MAKE IT STRONG.”

  Without further ado, the entity stretched its hands and grabbed them. Everything turned black. Despite the fury, Kiamon lost his consciousness in a few seconds.

  The moment he opened his eyes. Only his friends were in sight, trying to get up.

  “No matter what you are” –Kiamon gritted his teeth— “you shall pay for this.”