[ CATALOG ENTRY: 001 ]

  Name: Mo Xue Lián

  Age: 21

  Affiliation: None

  Profession: Engineering Student

  Skills: [ Basic MMA] [High-Level Mathematics] [Amateur Lockpicking] [ Basic Firearm Proficiency] [Improvised Mechanics]

  Basic Mixed Martial Arts – Knows how to throw a punch and take a hit; trained for discipline, not competition.

  High-Level Mathematics – Can solve complex equations, run models, and think abstractly under pressure.

  Amateur Lockpicking – Picked up from curiosity and late nights on forums; crude but effective.

  Basic Firearm Proficiency – Military training; trained to shoot straight and clean.

  Physical Conditioning – Regular gym-goer with above-average stamina and strength.

  Improvised Mechanics – Good with tools and junk; can cobble together machines that shouldn’t work, but do.

  “A status? Wait… isn’t this from Ashen Dusk?”

  The name struck him like a whisper from a dream barely remembered—sharp, familiar, and absurd in the moment.

  Ashen Dusk.

  A brutal, soulslike RPG infamous for chewing through even the most seasoned players. It wasn’t just hard—it was intimate in its cruelty. Every failure felt personal. Every boss, a war of attrition and pattern recognition. There were no easy victories. Just stubborn willpower. Broken controllers. Sleepless nights. Lore scattered like dying embers across item descriptions, cryptic NPC dialogue, and forgotten books.

  But people loved it.

  Not because it was fair—but because it wasn’t. Because pain was the price of progress, and those who endured it felt changed. It had a community, small but passionate, that unearthed the lore like archeologists of a forgotten world. They didn’t just play the game—they lived it.

  And some—very few—had done the impossible.

  They’d 100%'d it.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  Every ending. Every achievement. Every obscure questline followed to its bitter conclusion.

  He had become one of them.

  Recently, in fact.

  He still remembered that last playthrough. The final fight. The crimson sky. The moon hanging like a wound in the heavens.

  The blood moon.

  His eyes widened as he glanced around again. The broken glass dome, the creeping flesh, the whispering air, the altar—it wasn’t just similar.

  It was the game.

  More than that—it was the truth beneath it.

  But this… this wasn’t how the game started.

  And he? He wasn't controlling anything now.

  He was here.

  Breathing. Bleeding. Bound by rules he didn’t understand.

  And the status screen?

  It wasn’t a UI anymore.

  It was real.

  ****

  Arrkr

  The bestial screams of the cesliastal amalgamation—flesh and horror made manifest—echoed one last time. Then, the nightmarish boss crumbled into ash.

  The stream chat lit up instantly: some spamming campfire emotes, others dropping cursed gifs, and the usual unhinged regulars losing their minds in all caps.

  “Aight, that’s it, guys. Finally done! 100% completion—every hidden quest, every inch of the map, all the dialogue options, everything. Thanks for sticking with me through the madness, you absolute losers."

  He smirked, fingers dancing across the keyboard. "Leaving you with a poll: what do you wanna see me do next? Another game? IRL walking stream? I could take you idiots on a date—romantic, yeah?”

  The soft hum of his triple-monitor setup cast a pale glow across his bare skin. Like always, he streamed shirtless. It started off as bait—early viewers came for the looks—but now it was just a bunch of dudes. Still, it was part of the brand, like those streamers who never break cosplay.

  He leaned back and hit a key with a soft click. The stream cut out.

  Stretching with a small groan of relief, he muttered, “Should I try New Game+...? Ah, screw it. No pressure. Just vibes.”

  After a few minutes waiting for the DLC to download, he gave a casual flick of his wrist and booted up Ashen Dusk.

  His PC's fans buzzed in the quiet room, the screen lighting up with a blinding white glare.

  “Is my PC freezing? Why’s it stuck on the white screen?”

  The buzzing grew louder—harsher—until, with a sudden burst of light, everything vanished.

  Everything, that is, except Xue.

  The world faded into an impossible white—so empty it couldn’t be perceived, yet still somehow seen.

  Static clawed at Xue’s senses. Numbness. A low, scratching noise. Beneath it, faint whispers.

  “Hmmbfhhk... ffffou...nd you.”

  Then, the bloody grace of the blood moon—lingering high above—cut through the madness.

  Where was Xue?

  He’d lost himself.

  He was no longer home.