The stream had ended. Or rather, Alex’s screen had gone dark—but the stream itself kept running, its window still live to the thousands watching.
In the quiet of their home, the only sound was the soft hum of Alex’s PC. But when Finn stepped into his brother’s room, the silence felt… off. Heavy. Like a pause between lightning and thunder.
“Another perfect win, huh?” Finn said. His voice held something layered—admiration, sure. But also worry.
He knew what those wins cost.
It was easy to admire someone like Alex from a distance. He made mastery look effortless. But Finn had seen what others hadn’t—the bleary eyes, the skipped meals, the way Alex disappeared into the game world for days. Being the best was more than a grind. It was a sacrifice.
Alex sighed, ruffled Finn’s hair, and stood. “Yeah. Long one. I’m grabbing a drink.”
He left with a yawn, heading to the kitchen. The chair creaked empty behind him.
Finn, now alone in the room, looked toward the still-running monitor—and saw something strange.
A red blinking message in the lower corner: “Loading…”
He frowned. That wasn’t normally there. He had watched every stream. Memorized every detail. And this? This was new.
Curious, Finn moved closer. The stream chat was still active, scrolling with chaos and fanfare from the Ironman run:
- NoMercyZero: “Who are you? Are you hacking Zero’s account?!”
- MinMaxMaster: “Is he going to try it too? Super hard difficulty? No way…”
- SacrificeIsKey: “Bro! Are you gonna play?!”
Finn sighed. Typical. Alex had forgotten to turn the stream off again.
His fingers hovered over the keyboard.
And—before he could stop himself—he typed:
“I’m his brother. It’s none of your business.”
It felt good. Too good. The kind of defiance that builds quietly, until it bursts out like a shout. And immediately, something felt… wrong. Like the moment after stepping into a cold pool—you feel the shock before you understand it.
The chat exploded:
- GamerForever: “LOL He is so salty!”
- OptimizedForVictory: “Did he just tell us off? Cool!”
- NoMercyZero: “ALEX YOUR BRO IS SNEAKING AROUND YOUR ROOM!!!”
- MinMaxMaster: “I wonder if he is as good as Alex? Could someone be even better than him?”
- SacrificeIsKey: “Someone get Alex back here! Another run!”
- GodLikeTactics: “Nah, he is probably terrible. Alex is the best.”
Finn winced and reached for the keyboard, intending to shut the game down—
—but then the world shattered.
Symbols—ancient and glowing—flared across the screen.
Then they leapt off it.
Light coiled like tendrils of electricity. Nanomachines surged across his vision. A scent—burnt metal and static—hit his nostrils like a hammer. The room spun. Time stretched thin, warping around him. His breath caught. His pulse spiked.
And then—
Blackness.
The chat went wild:
- NoMercyZero: “OMG SOMETHING IS HAPPENING!!!”
- OptimizedForVictory: “HE’S GOING INTO THE GAME! WHAT IS GOING ON?!”
- SacrificeIsKey: “HE IS BEING SUCKED INTO THE GAME! SOMEONE DO SOMETHING!!!”
- MinMaxMaster: “This is amazing! What is happening!?”
- GodLikeTactics: “NOOOOOO this was not supposed to happen! Why!?”
On the monitor, the game’s victory screen flickered—glitched, distorted like a corrupted save file. The stream camera blinked red, faithfully recording an empty chair.
Downstairs, Alex cracked open a soda. He dropped a can, swore under his breath, then chuckled. The Ironman run was complete. Another win. He took a long drink, unaware that the world had just changed upstairs.
But just before losing consciousness, a HUD appeared in his vision:
[HUD: Destination selected: Fort Bastion]
[HUD: Character transfer initiated]
[HUD: Overwriting existing character]
[HUD: Adjusting memories of the inhabitants to acknowledge your identity]
[HUD: Initialization Complete! Congratulations! You are now Prince Finn]
As the screen flashed repeatedly, he saw Rylan the champion desperately calling out his name. Then he saw a slow motion of things unfolding.
“PRINCE FINN, NO!”
Rylan’s voice was strained with panic, echoing through the digital void.
Finn witnessed himself, now in royal garb, sprinting towards a crowd of soldiers.
“PROTECT THE PRINCE!” Rylan shouted, his expression twisted in horror as he began to chase after Finn, his sword drawn in a desperate attempt to alter the course of events.
Finn awoke with a gasped, but the air tasted wrong—sharp, electric, cold.
Stone pressed against his back. Wind howled around him. A sky roiled above—storm-gray and choked with smoke. He stood on a battlement wall.
Below, war.
Not pixels. Not code. Real.
Screams. Explosions. The metallic scent of blood fused with something stranger—Aether. The ground was littered with soldiers and monsters. And Finn—Finn was wearing royal armor. Intricate plates shimmered with nanotech, conforming perfectly to his shape. A cape whipped in the wind.
A crown sat heavy on his brow.
People were shouting—at him. For him.
“Prince Finn!”
No. That couldn’t be right. He wasn’t—
A soldier stumbled up, face pale and bloodied.
“Your Highness! The walls are falling! Do something!”
And before Finn could speak—
A blur of motion.
From the smoke, a Mantis Stalker lunged.
Seven feet of armored carapace. Scythe-like claws. Compound eyes that shimmered like oil in moonlight.
The soldier beside him yelped. “Don’t worry your highness! I-I’ll distract it!”
Finn blinked. “Wait, what—”
Too late.
The soldier hurled his boot. It struck the monster square in the face.
The Mantis froze.
Sniffed.
Prodded the boot with a curious claw.
Then—sniffed again.
Was this real life?
Finn stood slack-jawed as the insectoid horror examined the sweaty boot like a sommelier judging a bottle of vintage wine. It turned the boot this way and that, mandibles twitching as if appreciating its complex “notes”—sweat, despair, possibly toenail fungus.
Finn couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t look away. It was horrifying. It was absurd.
The soldier puffed up.
“See? Distraction successful!” he said proudly.
Then—without waiting for applause—he dove into a nearby haystack with a FWUMP, legs sticking out cartoonishly before vanishing.
Finn just stared.
The Mantis stared back—then gave one last sniff.
And gagged.
With a noise halfway between a snort and a retch, it flicked the boot away. It thudded against the wall, forgotten.
The monster’s eyes snapped back to Finn. The moment of peace was over.
Now, it was hungry.
It hissed, low and sharp. Claws lifted. Its limbs tensed—ready to pounce.
Finn couldn’t move. He remembered Alex’s streams—tips about weaknesses, movement patterns—but his body refused to cooperate.
Then—
Light.
Aether blazed.
A blade cleaved the air. A silver arc. A monstrous shriek. Then silence.
The Mantis fell, lifeless.
And in its place stood—
Rylan Thorne. Towering. Imposing. Sword glowing with Aether.
“Stay behind me,” Rylan said, voice steady. “My duty is to protect you, Prince Finn.”
Finn couldn’t speak.
Not from awe—but from recognition.
He knew that name. That stance. That weapon.
This was no simulation.
This was Lumina’s Defense.
A HUD flickered into existence in front of his eyes.
Stats appeared. Descriptions. Skills. But the name at the top?
‘Finn.’
Not Capisco.
The tutorial level. The crown. The memory wipe. All of it slammed together in his head.
This wasn’t a bug.
It was real.
And he wasn’t just playing anymore.
He was the game.
Or at least, the game wanted him to believe that.
The lines were gone. The boundaries between screen and soul had collapsed.
This was war.
And he was its prince.