When he awoke again, everything felt wrong.
The air smelled like stale pizza and sweat. The couch beneath him creaked as he shifted his weight, eyes blinking against the harsh glow of a television screen.
He wasn't in the city. Not anymore.
Scattered across the floor were empty energy drink cans and crumpled snack wrappers. A sleek, black game console rested in his lap, the screen flashing:
"Congratulations! Demon Lord defeated."
He barely had time to process the message when a new prompt appeared:
"You have been awarded the Demon Devourer of Swords. Accept?"
He hesitated for a heartbeat before tapping "Yes."
Nothing happened. No surge of power. No life-altering revelation. Just the weight of the controller in his hands.
"What the hell…?"
He pushed himself to his feet and caught his reflection in a cracked mirror. The face staring back wasn't his own. Gone was his lean frame and sharp jawline. Instead, a pale, round face with greasy blue hair and tired green eyes gawked at him.
He was fat. And not just a little—he had the soft, bloated frame of someone who spent too much time indoors and not enough time living.
"What is this… some kind of sick joke?"
A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts.
He shuffled over and swung it open, revealing a world not quite his own. The ice cream truck across the street shimmered unnaturally in the golden light. As he stepped outside, the air seemed to ripple.
And then, the world shifted.