Chapter 2: The Last Straw

After being ditched by my team again, I drag my battered body—limping, breath ragged—to the edge of what passes for a cliff in this place. It’s really more like a bottomless crevice, fog curling up from below, the kind you see in survival horror games where every echo sounds like a demon calling your name.

I stare into the mist, weird howls bouncing off the stone, but nothing fazes me anymore. My only thought is to jump.

The system’s voice drones in my head, as flat as a DMV clerk calling the next number: "Player’s body toxin level has exceeded 87%, life value continuously declining, estimated survival time: seven days."

I shake my head, forcing a bitter smile. "No need to wait seven days. I’m ready to die right now, system."

Dead. Then I’m finally free.

I lift my foot and walk forward, my worn combat boots scraping on the rocks. Fierce winds tear up from the crevice, stinging my split lips.

That’s when I hear Hunter’s voice behind me.