Chapter 3

For a fleeting moment, Sanemi thought it was all a cruel joke. A poorly designed ad for some dark web game, nothing more. But the second his finger touched the glowing scanner, the screen exploded.

It wasn't ordinary light. It was a torrent of luminescence, a liquid fire that poured from the monitor and flooded his small, cluttered room. Beams of raw code and strange symbols, like glowing hieroglyphs, wrapped around his arms, his chest, his skull. He screamed, staggering back, but the light followed him, burrowing into his skin. His veins pulsed, a network of electric blue light beneath his flesh. Then, as quickly as it had appeared, it was gone.

The computer screen went dark, the low hum of the machine the only sound in the now-silent room. The air was thick with the strange, metallic scent of ozone. Sanemi collapsed into his chair, clutching his chest. His breath came in short, ragged gasps, his palms slick with sweat.

"What the hell was that...?" he whispered, his voice trembling. He pressed his hand against his face, but he could still feel the phantom burn of the light crawling just beneath his skin.

He forced himself to stand, his body still shaking. He slammed his fist on the keyboard, then jabbed at the power button. Nothing. The screen flickered to life, and the same bizarre symbols from before danced mockingly across the glass.

Panic twisted into a furious rage. Sanemi grabbed the monitor, pulling it toward him and slamming it against the desk. The glass cracked with a sharp, sickening sound, spitting sparks from the edges. Then, with a concussive shockwave that sent him flying across the room, the world went white.

He hit the wall hard, the breath knocked from his lungs. His ears rang, and a searing heat radiated from his chest, as if something living and hungry was stirring beneath his ribs. He slid to the floor, shaking, staring at the half-broken computer. Impossibly, the screen was still on, a faint glow pulsing on it, synchronized with the frantic beat of his heart.

"No... no, this isn't real." The words were a prayer, a desperate plea for normalcy.

But the more he denied it, the heavier the truth pressed in. The thing, the system, the VAbyss—was inside him now. The machine had become part of his body. His veins tingled, his fingers trembled with a strange, unnatural heat. He thought about smashing the monitor again, of finishing the job and destroying the cursed device. But the thought coiled like a snake in his mind: Even if I destroy the computer, it won't matter. It's already in me.

The hopelessness was crushing. Sanemi stumbled to his closet, pulled on a hoodie, and bolted outside, desperate for air. His heart was a mess of fear and disbelief, pounding against ribs that felt too small to hold it all. He walked aimlessly, hoping the quiet night would clear his head and somehow wash the glow from his body.

He didn't notice the man following him.

The figure was tall and unkempt, a predatory grin stretched too wide across his gaunt face. His eyes darted like those of a starving dog. A faint glow pulsed from his hands, an echo of the same unsettling luminescence that had seared itself into Sanemi.

"Oi," the stranger called out, his voice a rough, gravelly growl. "You new?"

Sanemi froze, his blood running cold. He turned slowly. The man's grin widened, revealing a row of crooked teeth.

"I can smell it," the madman hissed. "Fresh. Weak. A little rabbit that just entered the hunt."

"Hunt?" Sanemi muttered, his brow furrowed in confusion. "What the hell are you talking about?"

The man's laugh was wild and broken.

"Don't play dumb. You touched it, didn't you? The Net. The gift. Heh, lucky me. Kill a rookie, get rich. I'll climb to Grade C tonight!"

"Grade C...?"

The man's eyes blazed with a manic hunger. He reached into his tattered coat and pulled out a jagged, rusted knife. The blade caught the streetlight, glinting with a malevolent gleam. "It's nothing personal, kid. Just the rules of the game. Kill or be killed."

Sanemi's heart hammered in his chest. This guy is insane, his mind screamed. He took a cautious step back, but the man lunged, the knife flashing toward his face.

Instinct, forged by his late father's training, took over. He sidestepped, his hand snapping up to block the man's wrist. The memory of those long afternoons in the yard, his father's patient coaching, the sting of a missed block, the rhythmic thud of their gloves, surged back like a jolt of lightning.

The madman snarled. "Ohhh… you can fight? Good. Makes the kill worth more."

Sanemi's teeth clenched. "Stay away from me."

He shoved the man back, but the stranger came again, slashing wildly. The air sang with the blade's swing. Sanemi ducked, his fists striking—sharp, fast, and brutal. The training his father had drilled into him wasn't for sport; it was for survival.

The madman staggered, a line of blood dripping from his mouth, but he only laughed. "Nice hit. But you're still prey."

He charged again. Sanemi grabbed his arm, twisted hard, and drove his knee into the man's stomach. The knife clattered to the ground. In desperation, Sanemi scooped it up, his hand shaking.

"Don't—" he began, but the man lunged one last time, a blaze of pure madness in his eyes.

Sanemi didn't think. Instinct ruled. The blade plunged.

A terrible, suffocating silence followed.

Sanemi's breath came in ragged sobs. He looked down at the man collapsing in front of him, a dark stain spreading across the pavement. His hands trembled, the knife a heavy, alien weight. He dropped it and stumbled back.

"No… no, no…" His voice was a broken whisper. "What did I do…"

Then the glow came again.

From the corpse, a pulse of cold, blue light streamed into Sanemi's hand, searing through his veins like fire. He fell to his knees, gasping, as words appeared before his eyes, cold, digital, and utterly merciless.

Kill Confirmed.

Reward: $200 credited.

Rank: D- grade

Sanemi's heart froze. "No… that's not… I didn't…" The words burned themselves into his vision, a curse only he could see. He squeezed his eyes shut, but the glowing text was already carved into his mind.

The body lay still. The street was silent again. The night, once a canvas for escape, was now a tomb. Sanemi scrambled to his feet, his stomach twisting with nausea, and ran. He ran until his lungs burned and his legs ached, not stopping until he was safe inside his front door. He locked it, leaning against it, his body shaking uncontrollably.

He stumbled to his desk. The screen of his computer, once a source of terror, now displayed a new message.

$200 credited to your account.

His first kill. His first blood.

And the system—the VAbyss—had smiled.

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