[8 Hours, 33 Minutes, Twenty seconds until the Summoning.]

  My fingers hovered over my keyboard, the clatter of mechanical keys filling the air like the background hum of a distant battlefield. The overhead fluorescents buzzed, casting their pale light over rows of desks, each one occupied by a developer lost in their own world. Yet, for me, inspiration had just struck like a bolt of lightning to the skull.

  “Holy shit.” I sat up straight, eyes widening. “What if fiction—books, video games, TV shows—were actually glimpses into real universes?”

  Across from him, Ethan groaned, leaning back in his chair. “Oh boy. You know what Micah? I think this is the earliest you’ve ever taken your edibles.” He said, glancing at an equally fictitious watch.

  “I’m not on anything, you bitch.” I jabbed a finger in his direction. “I’m fully here, present, and serious about it. It gets you thinking.”

  Ethan, unfazed, turned his chair away with a dramatic eye-roll. “Sure, sure. So that must mean there’s a universe where you’re getting freaky with dragon ladies? Or any fan-fiction for that matter.”

  A long pause. Then—

  “...Get back to work.”

  “Ah-hah!” Ethan grinned, pointing an accusatory finger. “I knew that would shut you down.”

  I sighed, rubbing my temples. “I wrote that when I was sixteen, man. We all have those moments.”

  “Yeah, yeah, puberty and all that. Difference is, you got caught.”

  “Be careful,” I warned, a slow smirk creeping onto my face. “I might just write you into a piece of fiction where you’re doing the same with a fox lady.”

  Ethan arched his brow. “I think you mean a ‘foxy lady.’”

  “You heard what I said.”

  Their laughter mixed with the hum of the studio, drowning out the clack of keys and the distant sound of someone cursing over broken code. Another normal day at the office—if one ignored the sudden existential crisis about the nature of reality.

  “I can’t believe we actually pulled it off. Hell’s Summoner V is real. Eight hours from launch.” Ethan exhaled like a runner crossing the finish line, his shoulders sagging with relief.

  “Heh. Development... hell,” muttered a passing developer, eyes hollow, coffee clutched in a death grip.

  “Appreciate the insight, Jerry,” Ethan deadpanned before turning back to me. "Thank God I was there to save the day."

  I scoffed. "Oh no, you wanna play that game? I spent the most hours refining the intricate role-playing system. I could slap my name on the code like a signature." He spun his monitor around and nearly shoved it into Ethan’s face. "See? Look, look! Skill tree, magic creation, weapon perks—oh, what’s this? Isn't this the behemoth beast pathing? I might just delete—"

  “Hey, quit screwing around. We’re both only moments away from Elysium. Summer can actually goddamn start.”

  “It’s only a copy of the actual code, not the real stuff. I’d never do that to you… yet.”

  Before Ethan could fire back, Rhonda strolled in, tossing her bag onto a desk. “Hey Micah, we're heading to O'Leary's to celebrate the midnight launch. You in?”

  I shot a look at Ethan, then back to Rhonda. “Rhonda, wait—you have no idea what you're getting yourself into with this guy—”

  “Oh, kick rocks, you stiff-neck. Of course, I'm in!”

  “Nice! You're welcome to join too, Ethan.”

  I crossed my arms, grinning. “Rhonda, wait,” I said, mimicking his dramatic tone. “You have no idea what you're getting yourself into—”

  “Oh, you bastard.”

  I smirked. “You can't shout into a valley without expecting an echo, bud.”

  “Thanks ‘bud.’”

  Rhonda rolled her eyes, already regretting her decision. “You two are unbearable. See you at ten. And don’t forget that there's a late fee.”

  She walked off, leaving us with a triumphant silence. Ethan let out a satisfied sigh, rocking back in his chair. “Man, this is gonna be legendary.”

  I checked the time on the computer monitor. It displayed 4:57 PM. “We got five hours. Hmm, what to do…”

  Ethan stretched, lacing his fingers behind his head. “Well, we could bask in our own genius, revel in the fact that we survived crunch time, or—” He glanced at me with a mischievous grin. “We could break the game one last time.”

  I raised a brow. “You mean stress test? Find a way to completely obliterate the mechanics before launch?"

  “Exactly. What if there’s some game-breaking exploit still lurking in the code? A spell that insta-kills the final boss? A bug that lets players duplicate infinite gold?” Ethan leaned forward, eyes gleaming. “Imagine that making it past release.”

  I chuckled, already typing. “Alright, let's see if we can absolutely ruin our own masterpiece before the rest of the world even gets a chance to play it.”

  I grinned and cracked my knuckles. “If we leave for my place now, we'll have four and a half hours. Plenty of time for a little chaos.”

  [3 hours, 20 minutes, 37 seconds until the Summoning]

  [Chosen entities concluded.]

  I caught my own reflection in the monitor—red-rimmed eyes, exhaustion written all over my face. The endless bugs, the last-minute fixes… had it been three days? Four? Whatever the number, the hours had worn us both down. The walls of my room

  “God, what the hell was QA even doing this whole time?” I muttered.

  “I don’t even want to think about that," Ethan groaned. “They should all be fired.”

  “Well, the important thing is—we did it. Feel like I could’ve made my own indie game in that amount of time.”

  “You said it.”

  “Aaaaand… code is finalized. Ready for online launch whenever they pull the trigger."

  Ethan jumped up from his chair as he looked at his phone. “Shit! Micah! We’ve got an hour!”

  “Would you relax?”

  “Oh, excuse me," he made a whiffing motion with his hand. "I forgot you haven’t grasped the concept of a shower. I reek, man.”

  I smirked. “Trying to impress someone? You really think you’re gonna meet the love of your life tonight?”

  “It’s not just that. It’s called basic human decency, dude. Y’know, not smelling like a game developer.”

  I chuckled and stretched my stiff arms. “Fine, go hose yourself down. But if you're not back in… five minutes, I’m telling Rhonda you chickened out.”

  Ethan shot me a glare, already halfway to the door. “Like hell you will. I’ll be ready before you even put your shoes on.”

  I watched him disappear down the hall, then exhaled, glancing back at the screen. Three hours. After years of work, months of crunch, and far too much caffeine, the game we’d poured our souls into was finally about to go live.

  I exited the program, stood up, stretched, and exhaled.

  I shuffled down the dimly lit hallway, catching my reflection in the door-hung mirror. With a sigh, I shoved my greasy blonde hair back, trying—and failing—to make it look even remotely presentable. Strands stuck out at odd angles, stubbornly defying gravity like they had a mind of their own. My skin, pale to the point of translucency, had taken on an almost spectral quality—an inevitable side effect of trading sunlight for the cold glow of monitors.

  Dark circles hung under my eyes like bruises, the price of too many coding marathons and one-too-many energy drinks. A faint sheen of sweat clung to my forehead, a mix of stress, caffeine jitters, and the body’s quiet plea for real sleep. My green eyes—bloodshot and glassy—had seen better days. At this point, they looked redder than anyone could get from even the strongest gummies that Cheech and Chong could dream up.

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  My hoodie, once black, had become a patchwork of faded fabric, stained with streaks of spilled Celsius and remnants of hastily eaten meals. The faint scent of microwavable dinners clung stubbornly to the fibers, a lingering reminder of late nights fueled by convenience and exhaustion. I ran a hand down my face, feeling the uneven stubble along my jaw—the same stubble I kept promising myself I’d shave, just never today. Tomorrow? That was future me’s problem.

  A faint blue glow flickered at the edge of my vision, an unnatural pulse that sent a chill creeping up my spine.

  I turned toward my closet, where the light seeped out from beneath a heap of unfolded clothes, its soft luminescence casting eerie shadows across the walls. With a sigh, I slid the door open, shifting the stack aside, expecting to find—what? Some LED strip I forgot about? A reflection from my monitor?

  No.

  Beneath the mess, an object pulsed with an otherworldly energy. Jagged edges formed a rough dodecahedral shape, its crystalline facets refracting the dim glow of my room like a prism. It wasn’t just glowing—it was breathing, each pulse of light expanding and contracting like a heartbeat.

  “The hell?” I muttered, cautiously reaching out.

  The instant my fingers brushed its surface, the glow surged, swallowing my hand in an electric blue light. A faint hum vibrated through my fingertips, traveling up my arm like static.

  Must be one of Ethan’s cosplay props. Probably some kind of elaborate LED gimmick.

  Shrugging off the unease creeping up my spine, I set the crystal down and knocked on the bathroom door. “Ethan?”

  “What?” he called over the running water.

  “Did you leave one of your mage cosplay props in my closet? Big, blue, glowy crystal?”

  A pause. Then, “I’ve never had a ‘big blue crystal’ in any of my cosplays. Any of your other friends into that kind of thing?”

  I glanced back at the crystal, its glow unwavering. “Yeah, but none of them have props like this.”

  Right on cue, the shower switched off. “And… time! What did I tell you?”

  “Not bad. You’ve finally done something that’s impress—”

  Fwoosh!

  A gust of wind—no, not wind, something—ripped through my closet, sending clothes flying across the room. Shirts, jeans, and a handful of receipts scattered like leaves in a storm, slamming against the far wall.

  “What the—”

  My voice caught in my throat. The crystal was gone.

  The pile of discarded wrappers and energy drink cans that had been near it? Gone too. The closet, once cluttered, now had an eerie emptiness, as if the object had never been there at all.

  My heartbeat thundered in my ears. I whipped around, scanning the room. Was somebody just here? I ran to the far windows. Still locked.

  I dropped to my knees, shoving clothes aside, fingers grasping at empty fabric, searching—no, clawing—for the object that had been right there just seconds ago.

  It was right here. I didn’t move it.

  A hand clapped onto my shoulder.

  I flinched, whipping around to see Ethan standing behind me, towel draped around his waist, his damp hair still dripping onto the carpet.

  “What’s up?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

  I narrowed my eyes. “I’m onto you.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t know what’s going on, but every time I get this weird feeling, you’re behind it. The psych-outs. The pranks. I won’t fall for it.”

  Ethan blinked. “Dude, I literally just got out of the shower. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  His voice was steady. Too steady.

  I opened my mouth, then closed it again. My throat felt dry.

  “N-nothing,” I muttered, standing up and stepping back—only to recoil at the sight of his still half-naked form.

  “Oh, would you—get dressed!”

  Ethan laughed, shaking his head as he walked past me. “You're weird.”

  I cast one last glance at my closet.

  Was that real?

  [1 hour, 50 minutes, 14 seconds until the Summoning]

  [Beginning integration of chosen entities into system.]

  Ethan and I strode into O’Leary’s, a place we had visited countless times before—only tonight, it felt different. The familiar hum of conversation, the neon glow reflecting off polished wood, and the faint scent of fried food and cheap beer filled the air, but this time, it wasn’t just another night of blowing off steam. This was a celebration.

  “Ten minutes late!” Rhonda’s voice cut through the noise as she leaned against the bar with a smug grin. “That means you owe us all a round!”

  I held up my hands in mock surrender. “Hey, blame this guy. He insisted on putting on his best cologne just for this one night.”

  Ethan scoffed, adjusting his jacket. “Excuse me for having standards, Micah. Some of us don’t want to smell like an overworked game dev.”

  “You already used that joke.”

  Rhonda rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Just get the drinks already."

  I sighed, stepping up to the bar as Ethan slid onto the stool beside me. Around us, the place was packed—other devs from the studio, a few industry friends, even some hardcore fans who had somehow caught wind of the launch gathering. The excitement was electric, buzzing through the room like a live wire.

  “Man, look at this,” Ethan muttered, glancing around at the chaos of the bar. “Feels like a damn victory lap.”

  I smirked, taking in the room’s energy—the laughter, the clinking of glasses, the hum of excitement in the air. “Yeah, just without the confetti and corporate speeches.”

  Ethan chuckled, and just as I was about to take a sip, Jerry’s loud voice cut through the noise. He was swaying a bit, his face flushed from more than a few drinks. “Guess what, we did this, guys! This is our baby, about to take its first steps!”

  He raised his glass high, as if delivering an impromptu toast to the entire room.

  I rolled my eyes, half-smiling. “Yeah, sure, Jerry. It’s about to take its first steps, and we’re the ones who taught it to crawl.”

  Jerry didn’t catch the sarcasm. He grinned wider, looking around the bar at the rest of the team. “Right, we did this! This is all us. All of us!”

  He clapped me on the back a little too hard. I glanced over at Ethan, who was shaking his head, and I couldn’t help but chuckle.

  I took a step back, holding my drink loosely in my hand. “You know what, Jerry?”

  Jerry blinked, confused, then leaned in closer. “Yeah?”

  “We did do this. All of us. Right, Micah?”

  I raised an eyebrow, knowing exactly where this was going. “Oh, get outta here. Jerry.” I gave Ethan a playful shove. “Tell this guy to pack his bags and move to Mickey Mouse Studios. I had to fix his bug-infested pathing in that code, remember?”

  Ethan snorted, just grinning. “Hey, I told you! It wasn’t me, it was the AI! It’s always the AI!”

  I groaned dramatically. “Sure, blame the AI. I’ll take the credit for fixing your mess any day of the week.”

  “Whatever my man. Heh, maybe someday we could visit the world of Hell’s Summoner in real life. A Universal Studios park!”

  “I like the way you think.”

  In my inebriated state, the world had started playing tricks on me. I swore I saw two identical bartenders for a fleeting second—two sets of hands pouring the same drink, two matching smirks—only for them to snap back into one as if reality had hiccupped. The same thing happened with my glass, a flickering double that merged the moment I blinked.

  Great. Already putting on the beer goggles.

  Then there was the cat.

  Perched on the windowsill was a three-eyed tabby, its middle eye blinking independently of the others. I rubbed my own eyes, but it was still there, staring back at me with the kind of feline judgment that made my skin prickle.

  And then—

  An orb.

  A floating, shimmering, pulsating orb, hovering just outside the window, distorting the air around it like heat rising from pavement.

  Wait, that can't be right… Did someone put something in my drink?

  My train of thought derailed as someone yanked my shoulder back toward the forming mosh pit of my colleagues.

  “One minute! It’s happening, it’s happening—ohmygod, ohmygod!” Someone practically shrieked in my ear.

  I shook them off, turning back toward the window. “Look outside! I saw… I saw a flying orb! And a cat—three eyes!” I pointed frantically, my finger wobbling as much as my balance.

  Ethan barely glanced up from his drink before whistling and making a circling motion with his finger near his temple. “Uh oh. I told y’all…”

  I grabbed his shoulder, forcing him to look at me. “I’m serious, you… bum!” My words slurred slightly, but I meant every syllable.

  Ethan snorted. “Sure, man. You’re seeing things.”

  But then his eyes drifted to the window.

  And they widened.

  “What do you know?” His voice dropped to a whisper, laced with something between awe and unease. “I guess we’re both crazy then. Hahaha…”

  The laugh came out forced, stilted.

  “Fifteen seconds!” someone shouted over the roar of the bar.

  Ethan clasped my shoulder, his grip firm and warm. “Ready for Valhalla?”

  I smirked. “You bet.”

  The countdown began, voices blending into a chaotic, drunken harmony.

  “Ten… nine…”

  Glasses clinked, arms wrapped around shoulders, anticipation thick in the air.

  “Eight… seven…”

  The triclops cat leapt onto the bar, its irises flashing like neon signs. No one else seemed to notice.

  “Six!”

  A glass on the table flickered, splitting into two before merging back into one.

  “Five!”

  A shadow moved against the ceiling—too fast, too fluid.

  “Four!”

  The bartender’s face seemed to duplicate for just a second before snapping back, like a glitch in reality.

  “Three!”

  “Two!”

  I opened my mouth to speak, but my words stuck in my throat. My vision swam.

  “One!”

  “I love… I love you guy—”

  The lights shut off, plunging my vision into an eternal void.

  Not just the absence of light. Something deeper. Heavier. A void that swallowed everything whole. The laughter, the music, the warmth of bodies pressed together—all of it vanished as if someone had hit pause on existence.

  [Summoning… ENGAGE.]