Argos’s vision faded, the bright glow of the Emberreach skyline dissolving into an infinite white void. His body felt light, untethered, yet he sensed he was standing on something solid. As his senses adjusted, the landscape came into focus—an expansive testing zone with faint white gridlines stretching endlessly in all directions, like the placeholder environments from old game development footage.
His arms and legs responded sluggishly, but they moved. Around him, figures stood frozen in a familiar T-pose stance. Dozens, maybe hundreds, of motionless avatars filled the space, each one perfectly generic. Their blank, lifeless faces and immobile forms stirred a sense of unease within him.
“Okay, this is... normal?” he muttered, his voice sounding strangely muffled.
Stepping cautiously between the inert figures, Argos noted their lack of details. Some wore partial outfits—textures half-loaded, leaving glossy, solid colors where materials should have been. It was the kind of unfinished design he’d expect from alpha builds or hastily abandoned projects.
He glanced down at himself. His own gear and spear were intact, sharp and vivid against the monochrome backdrop. The movement controls, though sluggish, were responsive enough to nudge him forward.
“Why does it feel like I’m a debug log away from being deleted?” he muttered, the sarcasm doing little to mask his unease.
Among the sea of stationary avatars, a flash of recognition snapped his focus to a familiar figure. The blacksmith from Emberreach, his robust frame unmistakable even in this skeletal environment. The man was locked in place, his hammer raised mid-swing, as though frozen mid-animation.
“Hey! Old man Smithy!” Argos called, jogging over. The sluggishness in his legs made it feel like running through knee-deep water.
The blacksmith remained unmoving, a hollow representation of the lively NPC Argos had met earlier. Argos frowned, a creeping realization settling in. The blacksmith had been so convincing before, so lifelike, that Argos had never questioned whether he was an NPC. Most shopkeepers weren’t even NPCs in this game, the line between players and advanced AI intentionally blurred to maintain immersion. Now, standing frozen and exposed in this skeletal form, the truth was undeniable.
Despite his efforts to shake or prod the figure, it stayed locked in its suspended pose, a lifeless shell of what once seemed like a real person.
A low hum began to resonate, faint at first but growing louder. The gridlines on the ground started to ripple, like a static charge building across the surface.
SYSTEM MESSAGE:
Argos froze. His grip on the spear tightened as he scanned the area, searching for any sign of movement among the avatars. The hum grew louder, almost melodic, interspersed with faint whispers that seemed to emanate from nowhere and everywhere at once.
“Argosss...”
The voice was soft, like a breeze grazing his ear, yet it carried an undeniable weight. It repeated, insistent and growing clearer with each iteration.
“Who’s there?” Argos shouted, spinning around. His voice echoed unnaturally, swallowed by the empty void. “If this is some admin-level prank, I’m not impressed!”
The whisper transformed into a chorus of distorted tones, warping between male and female registers, dissonant and haunting. “Argossss... join ussss... understand... truth...”
“Yeah, hard pass on that!” he barked, backing away from the blacksmith’s frozen figure. The chorus grew louder, the gridlines beneath his feet flickering erratically. His HUD began to glitch, data streams spilling incomprehensible symbols across the display.
A blinding flash erupted behind him. Argos spun around, spear raised, to see a new figure standing amidst the frozen avatars. Unlike the others, this one moved. Draped in black and purple, the figure radiated an aura of authority. A straight sword hung at his side, its black blade gleaming ominously.
“Player ID 053, Argos,” the figure said, his voice calm but firm. “You are in violation of the game’s restricted zone parameters. Explain yourself.”
Argos blinked. “Uh, yeah, about that… I didn’t exactly choose to spawn here. Maybe you should explain what kind of horror show this is?”
The figure’s violet eyes narrowed. “This area is not accessible through standard gameplay. It is a controlled environment. How did you breach it?”
The admin hesitated for a moment, his stern expression softening slightly. “Though perhaps it isn’t entirely surprising. You have a... unique connection to this system. Let’s just say you’ve been through more than most players, Argos.”
Argos frowned. “Care to elaborate on that, Mr. Mysterious?”
Before the admin could respond, the whispers surged, drowning out all other sound. The avatars around them began to twitch, their T-poses collapsing into jerky, unnatural movements. The blacksmith’s head turned abruptly toward Argos, its lifeless eyes locking onto him.
“It’s not me you need to worry about!” Argos shouted, gesturing wildly to the waking avatars. “Whatever this is, it’s about to go full glitch apocalypse!”
The admin’s gaze shifted to the rising tide of corrupted figures. His grip on the hilt of his sword tightened. “Stay behind me. Do not engage unless directed.”
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Argos raised an eyebrow. “Sure, because I love following orders from mysterious guys with glowing swords. Lead the way, boss.”
The system's energy flared around Ryker as he raised his hand, a shimmering veil of code-like glyphs enveloping him. The glow from his figure contrasted sharply with the chaos around them, drawing even Argos's reluctant awe. The commands issued from Ryker's lips, his calm yet commanding tone slicing through the cacophony with an otherworldly authority.
"System Call: Admin ID - Ryker."
The world seemed to pause. The ambient noise dulled, as though reality itself was holding its breath. Ryker’s eyes glowed faintly, reflecting the lines of code streaming through his vision. His lips curled into a slight smirk as he uttered the next command.
"Gate."
A massive, ornate door materialized out of nowhere, its frame etched with intricate, glowing runes. The door’s size dwarfed everything around it, emanating an aura of overwhelming authority. The glyphs shimmered ominously, not as a weapon but as a gateway—an escape route carved out of the unstable system itself.
The door creaked open slowly, revealing an endless void on the other side. Whispers of countless voices echoed from the depths, blending into a chaotic symphony that made Argos’s corrupted UI flicker with unreadable notifications. Tendrils of light and shadow wavered at the threshold, not attacking but holding the instability at bay.
“This isn’t exactly part of the standard troubleshooting guide,” Argos quipped, his tone strained as error messages swarmed his vision. “Is this thing even safe?”
Ryker’s gaze didn’t waver, his voice carrying a calm authority. “Safer than staying here. The Vice corruption is destabilizing the entire chamber. If we don’t leave now, it’ll consume you.”
As if on cue, the avatars around them began to glitch, their fragmented movements accompanied by eerie digital screeches. The corrupted blacksmith lunged at Argos, only to be repelled by an unseen barrier radiating from the door.
“Through the Gate, now,” Ryker commanded, stepping aside to usher Argos forward.
Argos hesitated, his instincts screaming against the void’s pull. “You’re not exactly selling this escape plan. What happens if—”
“Move!” Ryker’s sharp tone cut through the chaos as the first tendril of Vice corruption lashed toward them. He raised his hand, glyphs flaring to deflect the attack, but the strain in his posture was evident.
Without further argument, Argos sprinted toward the Gate, his vision a mess of corrupted overlays and system errors. As he passed through the threshold, a sense of disconnection and weightlessness overtook him, the chaos of the chamber dissolving into a distant hum.
Ryker followed moments later, the Gate sealing behind him with a resonating thrum. Just before it closed entirely, Argos glanced back. In the dim expanse of the testing area, a figure emerged, barely visible amidst the shadows. Its form was jagged and flickered with corrupted code, the edges dissolving into static as it stared back at him with empty, void-like eyes. The whispers crescendoed for a moment, then fell silent as the Gate shut, leaving only the faint glow of stabilizing system parameters.
“You’d think for once you’d just trust the admin,” Ryker muttered, his voice betraying a hint of amusement.
Argos blinked as his UI slowly recalibrated. “Yeah, sure. Next time, I’ll bring flowers and a thank-you card for the void of doom.”
The room was quiet, the faint hum of activity from the inn's magical lamps mixing with the soft creak of the wooden floorboards. Ryker sat at the small desk near the window, his posture unusually relaxed as he shuffled through a glowing virtual interface that hovered above the desk’s surface. Across the room, Argos perched on the edge of the simple inn bed, his spear resting against the wall beside him. The cozy, rustic environment felt worlds apart from the chaos they had narrowly escaped.
Ryker leaned back in his chair, his violet eyes meeting Argos’s. “We need to talk.”
“That’s usually my cue to leave,” Argos quipped, though the tension in his voice betrayed his attempt at humor. “But considering you just saved me from being glitched into oblivion, I’ll bite. What’s this about?”
Ryker’s expression softened, and for the first time, there was a hint of hesitation. “It’s about your presence here, Argos. It’s about why you exist in Dauntless Online at all.”
Argos frowned, leaning forward. “Pretty sure that’s because I bought the game like everyone else. Unless there’s some secret player lottery I wasn’t told about?”
The admin exhaled, his gaze drifting momentarily. “This isn’t easy to explain, but... you’re not like everyone else. You’re here because of something that happened during the beta test. Something that shouldn’t have been possible.”
Argos’s UI flickered slightly, a stray error message briefly crossing his vision. He ignored it. “Beta test? I wasn’t even in the beta. What are you talking about?”
“You were,” Ryker corrected, his tone measured. “But not in the way you think. During the beta, there was... an incident. You were one of the testers, Player ID 053. There was an accident. You died, Argos.”
The room fell silent. Argos stared at Ryker, searching for any sign of deception. “That’s a hell of a joke,” he said, though his voice wavered. “I’d remember dying.”
Ryker shook his head. “Not entirely. The fragments of your consciousness, your memories—they were uploaded to the servers. Typhon, the company behind Dauntless Online, compensated your family and sought their permission to integrate what remained of you into the game.”
Argos’s hands tightened into fists. “Fragments? What does that even mean? I’m just... pieces of data?”
“You’re more than that,” Ryker said firmly. “You’re alive here, in this world. Maybe not in the way you once were, but you’re still you. And that connection to the system, it’s what makes you so unique—and why Vice is drawn to you.”
Argos leaned back, his mind reeling. “So what? I’m a ghost haunting some digital playground? Why tell me this now?”
“Because the situation is escalating,” Ryker replied. “Vice is getting stronger, and your connection to the system makes you both a target and a key player in stopping it. You deserve to know the truth before things spiral further.”
The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken questions. Finally, Argos broke it with a dry laugh. “So, what’s next? Do I get a 'Congratulations on Your Digital Rebirth' card?”
Ryker allowed himself a faint smile. “Welcome to the afterlife, Argos.”
Ryker tapped at his interface, and a soft chime echoed in Argos’s UI. A notification flashed in the corner of his vision:
“Consider this my direct line to you,” Ryker said, leaning back in his chair. “You’re not alone in this, Argos. If things get dicey—or if you just need answers—you can reach out. But keep this between us. The other players can’t know about what we’ve discussed.”
Argos tilted his head, a faint smirk creeping onto his face. “So, I’m part of the admin’s secret club now? Do I get a badge or just more ominous warnings?”
Ryker chuckled softly. “Let’s just say you’ve got VIP access. Make the most of it, and try to adjust to this situation. You might find it’s not all bad.”
He stood, stretching briefly before gesturing toward the bed. “Get some rest. Tomorrow’s a new day, and something tells me you’ll need the energy.”
Argos nodded, his usual sarcasm tempered by the weight of the conversation. “Thanks, Ryker. For, you know... everything.”
The admin simply nodded, his faint smile fading into his usual composed expression as he exited the room, leaving Argos to process the revelations in the quiet comfort of the inn.
