Andrew stood in front of a long, sleek mirror in the mission chamber, the last bastion of calm before the unknown. His reflection stared back—taller now, sharper somehow. A long black combat coat fluttered around his legs, the inside lined with an ethereal indigo shimmer. His gauntlets pulsed faintly with runes. The outfit was clearly inspired by his favorite protagonist from that Korean shadow hunter series. Yes, the coat screamed "edge," but he looked good in it and dammit, he needed the confidence boost.
He tugged the collar dramatically. "I look like a rogue hero fresh out of a final boss cutscene."
Eve materialized beside him in her humanoid silhouette form, arms loosely crossed, her glow pulsing a steady lavender. "You look... capable," she said after a pause. "Almost intimidating."
He snorted. "Almost? I've been practicing my brooding stare."
Andrew leaned forward slightly, striking a pose with his hand on his chin, eyes narrowed like he was contemplating a villain monologue. Then he ruined it by tripping on the hem of his cloak.
Eve sighed. "Still very much... you."
"Thanks, partner. Always a fan of the ego boost."
Yes, this is our boy. Andrew: half sandwich, half sarcasm, full heart. Do not underestimate the power of a guy who has no idea what he's doing but is still going all in anyway.
Andrew stood again, facing the mirror with a more serious expression this time. His fingers flexed, testing the feel of the suit, and the tension humming beneath his skin reminded him of how much had changed in so little time.
He wasn't just here to level up. He wasn't here to play a game. He was here to get out of it.
He was here to find his way back to Anna.
"You're ready," Eve said quietly, appearing beside him once more. Her voice had softened.
"Hmmm," he hummed, nodding. His heart thudded in anticipation.
He grinned, but it faded quickly. "Things in the game...they're about to change, aren't they?"
Eve's tone softened. "Yes. The next stage isn't like the tutorials or qualification missions. The system will treat you as a full-fledged participant now. Mistakes will be punished more harshly. Rewards may come at a cost."
He sighed. "So this is where it gets hard mode. And I don't even have a difficulty slider to blame."
"Exactly."
"Quick question: how often am I allowed to cry?"
"There is no official limit," Eve said. "However, excessive weeping may lower your Charisma stat."
"Oh no. Not my already tragic Charisma…"
They both laughed softly. It was a strange moment, standing at the edge of a world shift and joking about stats. But maybe that's why it worked. It kept things human.
"So…" he said slowly, "until I finish the mission, we won't talk?"
Eve blinked, and for a moment her glow dimmed. "No. My system is integrated with yours now. Like a permanent chat window—though I won't appear during combat or direct danger unless summoned."
"So… you're like… my glowy Siri?"
"Your glowy highly advanced combat-tier AI interface," she corrected.
Andrew chuckled. "Right, right. I'll remember that when I'm bleeding out and asking for Google Maps."
Eve's glow pulsed, a signal he now recognized as mild amusement.
"But really," he asked, more earnestly, "what do you know about this mission? Olivia Twilight. Sounds like a haunted fairy tale."
"Oblivia Twilight," Eve corrected. "Not Olivia. Though I suppose both sound equally ominous."
"Fair," Andrew muttered.
She continued. "This stage isn't like the early phases. Missions from here on are personally tailored. The system reads your subconscious, your fears, your history. Every Irregular's challenge is unique."
"So… you have no idea what's coming?"
"Not entirely," Eve admitted. "But based on the signal distortions and architecture patterns, this stage may be constructed as an illusion realm. Possibly unstable."
Andrew raised an eyebrow. "Unstable illusion realm. Wow. You really know how to sell a vacation."
"Do not underestimate illusion realms," Eve said, more firmly now. "They prey on your emotions, on your regrets. They bend reality and feed on choice."
He frowned. "You're saying it's psychological?"
"I'm saying it's going to hurt."
Andrew was quiet for a moment, then gave a small smirk. "Guess it's a good thing I'm already messed up."
Eve didn't answer. Instead, she reached out—not physically, but with presence. "Whatever you see… whatever tries to convince you otherwise… remember who you are. And why you're here."
He turned to her, jaw tightening. "I remember her every time I blink. I'm not backing out."
A silence hung between them, soft and weighted.
Then came the familiar digital chime. A prompt shimmered before him:
[Mission: Oblivia Twilight – Commence?]
He stared at it. The floating letters seemed simple, but they vibrated with unseen power. The stage name alone carried weight, like an ancient curse spoken under breath.
"So this is it," he murmured. "First real mission. No more tutorials. No more checkpoints."
Eve nodded. "No more second lives. From here on, you die in the stage… you die."
Andrew exhaled through his nose. "No pressure."
Real quick—if this were a traditional game, you'd expect save points and retries. Not here. Every decision counts. Every move has consequences. And for Andrew? The stakes couldn't be higher.
He hovered his hand over the prompt.
"Wait," he said suddenly. "Before I go… tell me something."
Eve tilted her head. "What?"
"Those twenty-nine before me… were they all like me?"
"Unique? Yes. Reckless? Often. Hopeful?" She paused. "Only in the beginning."
Andrew nodded slowly. "Then let's be different."
"Commence," he said.
The room around them began to pixelate. The ceiling fractured into squares of light, the floor dissolved beneath him like sand in a dream.
Eve started to vanish.
He turned to her, and for the briefest moment, their eyes met. A silent exchange passed between them—hope, fear, determination… a fragile alliance forged in the dark.
"I'll be the first to make it to the end," he said quietly.
She gave him one last smile. "Let's hope so."
Then, like scattered code in a corrupted file, the world collapsed.
The pixelation tore through reality like static through a screen. The walls, the furniture, the air itself—gone. In that final second, as her silhouette flickered into light, Andrew felt something strange.
Gratitude.
Because despite the odds, despite the nightmares ahead, he wasn't alone.
Not entirely.
Darkness fell.
There was no floor beneath his feet. No sense of gravity. No sound. Only cold.
For a few heartbeats, he drifted.
Then—
[Oblivia Twilight Stage Begins Now]
The words pulsed like the beat of a war drum, etching themselves across the void.
Andrew opened his eyes.
And the world was gone.
Only darkness remained.
[Location: Notcis Labyrinth]