"This has got to be the dumbest shit ever."
Rian stared blankly at the screen.
Torrents of fire danced across the display, painting a picture of pure destruction. People screamed, scattering in complete chaos as they tried to escape the crumbling, burning palace. After a few agonizing moments of utter devastation, that dark, familiar melody filled his speakers, followed by the damnably annoying text flashing repeatedly across his vision:
[GAME OVER]
"This can’t be real..." Rian muttered, his eye twitching. "I lost because I tripped? I tripped? Why is that even a mechanic in an RPG?!"
He reared back his fist, ready to obliterate his laptop with a Mike Tyson-level right hook, but froze mid-swing. He took a deep breath, slowly lowering his hand.
"Can’t be bothered to buy a new one," he sighed, collapsing back into his chair. "Guess I’ll take a quick break before Attempt 1,000."
Yes. Attempt number one thousand.
Rian had been grinding this game for longer than he cared to admit. Across 999 attempts, he had suffered 999 miserable failures. To add insult to injury, the furthest he’d ever managed to crawl was roughly 70% into the story.
Seven years ago, an indie studio released Flamecrest Legacy. Concept-wise, it wasn’t anything revolutionary. A dystopian Earth setting, bastions against monster tides, high-stakes academies, and pompous elites from noble houses.
What truly set it apart was its visuals.
The graphics were decades, if not centuries, ahead of their time. The characters felt alive, their expressions so vivid and raw that playing felt less like playing and more like watching real people. Naturally, it took the gaming world by storm.
Until the players noticed something odd.
Flamecrest Legacy wasn’t just challenging.
It was borderline sadistic.
It wasn’t "Elden Ring" hard, where you could learn attack patterns and dodge roll to victory. It was "win Olympic gold in swimming with your hands tied behind your back" hard. Make one wrong friend, choose the wrong side quest over a main event, step on the wrong tile during a cutscene or something equally dumb and then BOOM. You and your entire party is massacred.
Sounds fun right?
Millions quit within the first year. Only a handful of stubborn masochists remained.
And out of all of them, Rian was at the absolute bleeding edge, the closest anyone had ever come to uncovering how this godforsaken game was actually supposed to end and he was gonna see it through no matter what.
Rian slipped his shoes on, carefully stepping over the minefield of empty energy drink cans and takeout boxes cluttering his floor, and headed out the door.
"Man, I need some caffeine..." he muttered to himself, rubbing his bloodshot eyes.
***
After a few minutes of walking under the pale moonlight, he reached his local 24/7 gas station. Just as he pushed through the glass door, he collided shoulder-first with someone coming out.
"Sorry," Rian murmured automatically, not bothering to look up.
"Rian?"
’Hm?’
Rian glanced up, only to be met by a massive, shit-eating grin staring right back at him.
"Rian! Man, how’s it going!"
Rian’s face remained a blank mask of sheer exhaustion, but inwardly he sighed. ’Ah, this is gonna be a long night.’
"It was going great until I saw you, Noah," Rian said, a reluctant smirk finally creeping onto his face. Noah’s idiocy was just too infectious to stay annoyed at.
"What are you even doing out this late? Wait, let me guess..." Noah scoffed, crossing his arms. "You’re buying another energy drink so you can go back to grinding that stupid game. I swear, you rot your brain on that thing so much it’s no wonder you don’t have a girlfriend."
"Well, maybe if you weren’t such a dumbass, your girlfriend wouldn’t have cheated on you," Rian shot back cleanly.
The air went dead silent between them for two whole seconds. Then, both of them burst out laughing.
"Alright, maybe that was a little harsh," Rian chuckled, slumping his shoulders. "She was an absolute bitch though."
"On god," Noah wheezed, wiping a tear from his eye.
That’s just how they are, ever since sixth grade the two of them have been nearly inseparable. Honestly, Rian couldn’t even remember how they met but the weird combination of Rian being a game addict and Noah being an optimistic playboy idiot somehow worked out really well.
"So, since you’re already out," Noah said, slinging an arm over Rian’s shoulder and steering him toward the aisles, "do me a quick solid. My memory’s completely shot."
"What did you lose this time?" Rian asked, picking up a high-caffeine energy drink.
"My mom’s grocery list," Noah sighed, pulling out his phone. "She texted it to me three days ago, but my phone wiped my unsaved drafts, and if I don’t bring home that specific brand of coffee she likes, she’s going to genuinely kill me. You were sitting on the couch when she read it out loud to me. Please tell me you remember."
Rian didn’t even have to pause.
"Roasted Arabica, dark roast, silver bag with the blue ribbon, 12-ounce ground not whole bean. You also need two cartons of 2% oat milk, the salted butter with the green foil wrapper, and a box of Earl Grey tea bags. The 50-count, not the 20-count."
Noah blinked, staring at him in sheer awe. "Bro. You are actually scary. How do you do that?"
"You read it out loud twice while complaining about the price," Rian said dryly. "It’s not hard."
It wasn’t just a trick, though. Rian was born with an amazing memory, an almost photographic recall for details, numbers, and events. For most people, it was a cool party trick. For Rian, it was a curse that made forgetting anything impossible.
And for Flamecrest Legacy, it was the ultimate cheat code.
While millions relied on random wikis and forums, Rian held an entire mental database of every single attempt. He remembered the exact dialogue choices from Attempt 142, the boss attack hitboxes from Attempt 419, and every hidden political betrayal buried deep into the story.
In a game where the smallest oversight meant instant death, Rian’s flawless memory was the only reason he’d reached 70% completion, farther than anyone else on the planet.
Noah grabbed his items, grabbed Rian’s energy drink, and paid the clerk with a wave. "Man, I owe you big time. Seriously, I’d be dead meat without you."
"Just pay for the drink and we’re even," Rian muttered, cracking open the can as they pushed open the glass doors and stepped back out into the cool night air.
Then the world went to absolute hell.
The screech of burning rubber tore through the quiet night. Blinding headlights rounded the corner fast, way too fast, swerving wildly across the lane. The driver was clearly out of his mind, either drunk or just ridiculously oblivious.
Noah froze stiff, wide-eyed, completely paralyzed.
Rian didn’t get a second to process anything. Instantly, he dropped his drink and threw his whole body weight forward, shoving Noah backward onto the curb.
CRASH.
The impact felt like being smashed by a steel wall. Rian’s body bounced off the hood, tossed into the air before slamming hard onto the asphalt. A sharp, sickening shock wave went straight through his ribs, followed immediately by a dark, cold numbness creeping over his limbs.
"RIAN! RIAN, OH GOD!"
Noah’s voice was panicky, but it sounded like it was coming from under ten feet of water. Rian couldn’t move his neck. He just stared up at the moon while something wet and warm spread under his head. He tried to breathe, but his chest wouldn’t move.
As the darkness dragged him down, a strange, shimmering flicker of light flared at the edge of his vision, pulsing softly.
Ah... Rian thought, his consciousness fading fast. ’I shove him out of the way, and I’m the one who gets hit? What kind of cliché bullshit is this...’
A multitude of thoughts clouded Rian’s mind and the final feeling he remembered was soft regret till everything went to black.