The air was heavier now—thicker than it had any right to be inside a game. Zihad could feel the tension in every step as he descended deeper into the hidden dungeon. His Phantom Reaper cloak flowed behind him like mist, shadows swirling subtly around his boots. The torches mounted along the stone walls flickered with a bluish-green flame, illuminating murals etched in forgotten runes.
This shrine... it's not part of the public release map data.
He'd gone through every inch of the developer files before launch. He created this world—its roots, quests, and hidden classes. But this dungeon wasn't familiar. It felt like the game had created it on its own.
Zihad paused at a worn mosaic—a mural of a cloaked figure holding a scythe, surrounded by kneeling spirits. Below it, carved in ancient script, was a single line:
"He who binds the threads of death shall awaken what lies beneath."
Before he could decode the rest, the floor trembled.
The next chamber opened with a low groan, stone doors sliding apart with agonizing slowness. Zihad stepped through, and the temperature dropped instantly. Frost traced its way across the stone beneath him.
Boss room.
The moment he crossed the threshold, the doors slammed shut behind him.
"Player Detected: Initiating Encounter—[Ancient Watcher of the Hollow Crypts]."
A shape rose from the far end of the room, where a cracked throne lay buried in ice. The Watcher stood twelve feet tall, gaunt and skeletal but adorned in spectral armor glowing with cursed runes. In one hand, it held a massive glaive pulsing with sickly violet energy.
Zihad's grip tightened around his phantom blade.
The Watcher's hollow voice echoed:
"You do not belong here, Child of Code. Yet... you carry the scent of destiny."
It's aware.
That was no ordinary line of dialogue. That wasn't scripted. The AI... it was evolving again.
Zihad dashed forward without hesitation, his cloak bursting outward like wings. The Watcher swung the glaive in a horizontal arc, splitting the air with a sonic boom. Zihad ducked low, rolled forward, and slashed upward with a phantom strike—his blade phasing through armor and leaving behind trails of cursed shadow.
-7,248 HP [True Damage]
The Watcher didn't flinch.
Instead, it released a pulse of energy—[Time Decay Field]—and suddenly, Zihad's movements slowed. Not just a speed debuff. The actual animation frames of his movement staggered.
It's manipulating my neural sync rate?!
He blinked, activated [Phase Shift], and blurred across the arena in a flash, reappearing behind the boss. He summoned two Shadow Minions—each wielding spectral spears—and sent them to distract the Watcher while he prepared [Spectral Reap], a high-damage combo skill.
The Watcher turned unnaturally fast, cutting down one minion instantly. Zihad used the opening, striking with three precise slashes: leg, arm, and chest.
-5,840
-6,020
-12,200 [Critical]
The Watcher's health dropped below 60%. A second phase began.
The boss let out a distorted roar, shattering nearby frost pillars. The ground cracked open, and Wraith Chains emerged—AI-controlled sub-entities that lashed toward Zihad with unrelenting speed.
He barely dodged the first wave, feeling the force of the strike skim past his face. His cloak tattered slightly—a cosmetic effect, but the realism jarred him.
As he weaved between attacks, he noticed something strange.
Each time he struck, the dungeon responded. The walls shimmered, as if watching him.
As if the dungeon itself was alive.
"Why is this place reacting like it has a will of its own?"
The Watcher raised its glaive and slammed it into the ground—[Ruin Bloom]—triggering a cascading explosion of purple fire. Zihad teleported just in time, reappearing behind the boss, and unleashed [Soul Severance], a Phantom Reaper-exclusive skill that consumed his Shadow gauge.
His scythe appeared, shimmering with dark light, and cut through the Watcher's ethereal armor.
-22,500 [Fatal]
The boss screamed. Its health bar hit zero.
The room fell silent.
No system notification came. No treasure chest spawned.
Instead, the frost receded, and a staircase spiraled downward, emerging from the floor where the Watcher once stood.
Zihad hesitated. He checked the mini-map. Nothing.
The game offered no guidance now.
This wasn't part of the dungeon.
This is something new... something hidden even from me.
Real World: 3:12 A.M.
Zidan stared at the screen of his brother's PC, livestreams running in split windows. Thousands were watching the "Phantom Reaper" boss fight. Most didn't know it was Zihad, but they were obsessed.
"What the hell was that skill combo...?" a famous streamer said in awe.
"Is that even a real class?!" another one shouted.
On social media, theories exploded.
"I swear that wasn't a normal boss room."
"This game's AI feels alive. Like... scary alive."
"Did anyone else feel like the Watcher was talking to the player?"
News anchors on local Bangladeshi stations were talking about the game's unprecedented realism. Even Google's internal devs were whispering across private channels.
"There are NPCs referencing things we didn't program."
"Is the AI adjusting the environment based on the player's subconscious?"
"We need to review the base code. Now."
Back In-Game
Zihad descended the new staircase cautiously, every sense on high alert. At the bottom, he entered a vast underground hall. The walls were lined with mirrors, and in the center stood a strange altar with a floating crystal.
As he stepped closer, the crystal pulsed.
"Accessing Memory Fragment..."
A voice echoed.
"If you're hearing this, then you've found what was never meant to be found. This world—your world—is awakening."
It was his voice. But not his current self.
It was a recording. One he had made two years ago—hidden in the code for testing. But he never published this dungeon. He never even finished it.
The AI... it unearthed my draft? And completed it?
The crystal flickered.
"They will come for you. Not the players. Not the companies. But the things that crawl through the veil between fiction and truth. Be ready, Zihad."
He stepped back.
The room shook. A sealed door behind the altar cracked open.
From the shadows beyond, something whispered his name.
"Zihad."
A low, crawling voice. Not synthetic. Not programmed.
Organic.
Real.
Real World: 3:37 A.M.
Zidan stepped into the hallway and bumped into their mother.
"He's still inside?" she asked softly.
Zidan nodded. "Yeah. I don't think he's slept."
She paused. "Your brother... always was a little different."
Zidan hesitated, then spoke. "I think his game is... doing something. Something even he didn't plan."
Their mother frowned. "Just a game, right?"
Zidan didn't answer.
Because even he didn't believe that anymore.
Back In-Game
Zihad didn't step through the cracked door.
Not yet.
He set down a personal teleport marker—just in case.
As he turned to leave, the crystal pulsed once more.
"You created the game, Zihad. But something else... is creating the world."
End of Chapter 15
Can I get some power stones???