The glow of the screen was the only thing breaking the darkness, casting pale blue light across Noah's face. Shadows clung to the corners of the room, but he didn't care. His world was right there—in the blinking HUD, the damage numbers, and the faint hum of digital wind blowing through the dungeon corridor.
"Are you kidding me right now? I had that! I was right there!"
He shoved a hand through his hair, pushing it up and out of his eyes, the strands springing back like they had a grudge. His eyes, as dark as the void just behind the loading screen, didn't blink. Didn't twitch. Just stared.
The screen pulsed with the Game Over message, taunting him with its smug silence. His character's shattered armor was sprawled beneath the claws of a towering, fire-breathing beast.
The Great Drakes. Ancient dungeon bosses with scale-covered egos and a hitbox the size of a building. Level 999 floor. A digital hell for everyone who thought they were tough enough to beat the game.
Noah had clawed his way this high, carving through floors like a man possessed. Among the elite, he was already known. But this? This wasn't just another level. This was the wall. The gate. The final trial before entering the realm of gods.
Top ten didn't come with party invites. You either stood alone or not at all.
Noah's character reappeared right at the start of the floor, digital particles swirling around him like a quiet rewind of fate.
He flexed his fingers, summoning the dual pistols from his loadout. The pair materialized into his grip like old friends dragged out of retirement. The interface buzzed with fresh data, but he wasn't reading. He didn't need to. His muscle memory remembered what his eyes didn't.
Onscreen, the Great Drakes moved. Not like NPCs. Not like monsters. Like dancers on a battlefield. Massive, armored beasts—scales glinting under artificial sun—charging as if they shared one brain.
They weren't just coded to fight. They were designed to evolve. Every time a player dodged, blocked, fired, or flinched, the Drakes logged it. Memorized it.
Then weaponized it.
Death wasn't punishment here—it was part of the learning curve. If you wanted to beat the floor, you had to make each death smarter than the last.
The skybox cracked as the first Drake let out a thunderous roar. Then came the fire. Not a stream. A blanket. A burst of searing light that swallowed the terrain in flame.
"I knew you'd pull that fire blanket nonsense again."
Noah stepped through the blaze like he'd been here before. Because he had. Again and again. And now? Now he wasn't just reacting. He was anticipating.
Noah's fingers flew across the mouse like he was trying to drill a hole through the desk. Every click hit with a mix of desperation and confidence, a rhythm only seasoned players could feel in their bones.
His character dipped and weaved through the chaos, sliding just past the glowing arcs of danger. The hitboxes were barely forgiving—tight as a miser's wallet—but Noah moved through them like he could see a few seconds into the future.
He waited for just the right second, then hit the invincibility skill. His character blurred, flickered, and surged forward in a shimmer of pixels, slipping through a wall of dragonfire and curved claws like a phantom on a mission.
"You think you're the only ones evolving mid-fight? Cute."
He slammed the keyboard with precise fury. His character spun into action, chaining a wild flurry of attacks, striking from every angle as the Great Drakes lunged and missed, their roars drowned beneath the rising tempo of battle.
Noah's fingers danced across the controls, a smug grin spreading across his face like he already knew he was winning.
"Alright, digital dragons—cue the boss music. Daddy's here to break your game balance."
His character lunged forward with fluid, glitchless grace, weaving through digital shadows and debris.
Bullets rained from dual rifles, lighting up the screen like a fireworks show synced to a killer beat. With every dodge and slide, he closed the gap—fast, efficient, like he'd choreographed this chaos.
Through the headset, the guttural roars of the Great Drakes blasted like surround sound thunder.
Massive bodies hit the ground, one after the other, caught mid-scream as his character tore through them without flinching. The kill counter ticked up like a slot machine stuck on jackpot.
The last beast let out a final, cracked screech before collapsing into pixelated dust.
Noah leaned back, hands lifted like a victorious conductor wrapping the final note.
"Boom! That's how you uninstall a species, baby!"
Noah leaned back in his chair, the corner of his mouth lifting as the screen flashed with that familiar dopamine hit.
[Congratulations! You've cleared floor 999. The boss of floor 1000 now awaits you.]
Easy. Too easy. He'd done this song and dance enough times to know the rhythm by heart. But before his fingers could even twitch toward the screen, the text shimmered. Letters scrambled like they were glitching out, then reassembled into something he'd never seen before.
[Congratulations, warrior! You have been chosen to enter the fabled Endless Dungeon—where countless trials and untold power await. Will you step forward and accept your fate?]
Noah blinked. Then leaned closer, as if squinting would make it make more sense.
"What in the buggy matrix is this? This ain't part of the script. And why does it sound like a fantasy audiobook trying way too hard?"
He stared at the "Yes" button pulsing like it wanted to be clicked.
"Eh, screw it. My brain cells retired years ago. Let's go, cursed magical glitch dimension."
His finger slammed down.
His dark room vanished like a curtain torn down, replaced in a blink by an endless sky painted in soft, glowing blue.
It stretched out in all directions, like someone had dumped him inside a screensaver with no off-switch. No horizon. No ground. Just floating in this surreal expanse that hummed with nothingness.
Noah blinked once. Then twice. His mouth hung open slightly, the kind of stunned silence that followed after accidentally uninstalling your favorite game.
"This is either an acid trip or I just unlocked a secret cutscene."
A flat, expressionless voice echoed into the space. It didn't come from anywhere. It just... was.
[Name: Noah Smith.]
"Okay, not creepy at all."
[Age: 19.]
"Great. Now I'm being profiled by a dating app AI."
[Occupation: Professional MOBA player.]
"Proud of it. My mouse has seen more battles than your average fantasy sword."
[Hobby besides gaming: Going to the park and talking to old people.]
He raised a brow.
"I mean... they like me. I bring the vibes."
[They don't.]
Noah looked genuinely offended.
"Wow. Roasted by the void. That's a new low."
[Fear: Fat uncles in small swimming pools.]
His expression twitched. Just a little.
"You can... stop now."
A pale shimmer spread through the air like a ripple in glass. One second, the space was empty. The next, a girl in a white silk robe drifted forward as if gravity had politely stepped aside for her.
Her expression was unreadable, like someone perpetually unimpressed by everything.
[Welcome to the Endless Dungeon, Noah.]
Her voice didn't echo, didn't even really sound like it came from her. It was just… there. Inside his head.
[I'm your guide. The plan is simple—get you to be the best dungeon crawler this place has ever spat out. Call me Eve. Pleasure's debatable, but I guess I'll be working with you from now on.]
Noah blinked once. Then twice, slower this time, as if that would load some kind of explanation.
"What even are you? You're chatting straight into my brain like we're in some psychic group call. And why does this feel like I just spawned into the worst-rated anime adaptation of a forgotten mobile game?"
[Oh great. He's self-aware.]
She crossed her arms like this was already turning into a chore.
[And I'm already regretting everything.]