Albany, New York — 2028.

  You Died!

  Adam stared at the two blood-red words glowing on his monitor. His jaw locked, hand covering his mouth.

  “I lost…?” he muttered.

  The pale crimson light from the screen bled across the room like an open wound.

  “I can’t believe I lost to that fucking nobody…” He yanked at the mouse, ready to hurl it. A sharp twang rang out as the sturdy PC case rattled but held.

  He slumped back into his chair. Posters on the wall flickered in the glow of his dying screen.

  “I lost,” he said again, softer this time. A humorless chuckle escaped as he shoved his ruffled black hair out of his face. “When’s the last time I even lost a PvP match?”

  He exhaled slowly. The tension in his shoulders loosened, like a dam breaking. No one stays at the top forever, he thought, staring at his avatar sprawled across the battlefield.

  He pushed himself up from the chair, shaking his head. His phone buzzed on the desk, screen flashing with a string of notifications.

  “They’re going to call me washed on X and Reddit,” he muttered with a wry smile. He could already picture the TikTok memes and YouTube shorts roasting him.

  The phone vibrated again, this time with an incoming call; silent, but insistent.

  “Mason?” he read on the screen. “What does he want?”

  He didn’t pick up. The last thing I need is that shithead laughing at me right now.

  Adam turned back to the monitor with a sigh. “Guess I’m washed. I should probably get ready for—”

  A deep baritone rolled through his headset, cutting him off:

  “Behold. I bring thee a chance—one sought after, yet unseen. One for the ages, yet never taken. What does your soul seek? Tell me, and I—Korgrath— shall make it real. Forsake your soul, and I will give you the desire of your heart.”

  Adam ripped off his wireless headset, eyes darting between the screen and the headphones.

  What the hell? Did I get hacked? Or am I just fried from too many energy drinks?

  Cautiously, he put the headset back on.

  “Hello? Who the hell is this?”

  “I’m Korgrath,” the voice boomed.

  Adam’s expression tightened. Korgrath? The fuck is a Korgrath?

  “Listen here, smartass,” he snapped. “I don’t know who you are or what this is, but hacking my rig isn’t funny. I’ll report you to the cops.”

  “You are Bootysmasher69, are you not?”

  Adam blinked. “What?”

  Hearing his alt username spoken in that grave, dramatic tone almost made him laugh out loud. Is this some YouTuber doing a bit? Did Mason set me up?

  “Yeah. So?” Adam said, deciding to play along.

  “Good. What does your soul seek, Bootysmasher69? Tell me, and I—Korgrath—shall make it real.”

  This time Adam chuckled. “Anything?”

  “Yes,” Korgrath replied.

  “Even a billion—no, a trillion dollars?” Adam smirked.

  “Is that what you desire?”

  “Sure,” Adam said. “So, what now?”

  “You will part with your soul to fulfill your desires? Is this right, Bootysmasher69?”

  He fought to keep a straight face. “Yeah. Sure.”

  A deep, rumbling laugh rolled through the speakers.

  “Let it be known that on this day, Bootysmasher69 surrendered his soul to me, Korgrath. At midnight, your soul will be mine!”

  Adam burst out laughing, tears stinging his eyes. The sting of his loss was already gone.

  “Dude, please tell me your channel's name. I need to see more of your stuff.”

  Silence.

  “Hello?” he called, but nothing answered.

  Where’d he go? And where’s my trillion dollars?

  He snorted at the thought, peeled the headset off, and dropped it onto the desk.

  “When did it get so cold in here?” he yawned, glancing toward his unmade bed. I seriously need to sleep.

  His phone buzzed again, but he ignored it. Definitely Mason. Not tonight.

  He scratched his lower back as he walked to bed. “I’ll call him back when I wake up.”

  He lay down, eyes drifting to a framed photo above his bed: a middle-aged couple and two teenage boys on the porch of a suburban home.

  “It’s been a while since I called Mom and Dad,” he murmured, eyes landing on the other boy in the picture. “Wonder how that little shithead’s doing in college.” He smiled faintly, eyes closing.

  “Tomorrow should be a fun day…”

  “Wake up. How long do you plan to sleep?”

  A jolt raced down Adam’s spine. He cracked his eyes open, stretching as a yawn escaped.

  Whose voice was that?

  He tried to stand, but his legs felt heavy, as if pinned down.

  “Mase?” Adam called out softly. “Is that you? How many times have I told you not to barge in while I’m sleeping? You’re gonna get yourself shot one of—”

  He froze. A thick, metallic stench filled his lungs.

  Blood?

  His eyes snapped open. The room around him was dim, unfamiliar.

  Where the hell…? This isn’t my room.

  He realized, with a start, that he was standing. He couldn’t remember getting up. A single, dull fluorescent bulb swayed on its cord above him, casting sickly light.

  “This isn’t funny,” Adam said, voice trembling. “Mason? Not another prank?”

  Then he saw it. The flicker of the bulb revealed a wall splashed with dark, clotted red. Chunks of meat clung to the plaster like rotten fruit.

  His mouth fell open. His skin crawled. The light flickered again, and the rest of the room came into view. Corpses. Piles of them. Torn and twisted.

  Adam’s stomach lurched. He bent over and vomited in ragged heaves.

  Only then did he notice the sticky pool beneath his feet. His arms, up to the elbows, were crusted with dried blood.

  He staggered backward, but something caught his heel.

  He screamed as he fell, landing in the crimson pool. His eyes locked onto what had tripped him: a severed head. Not mangled enough to hide its identity but battered enough to show what it had endured.

  Adam blinked, trembling, tears threatening. “M-mom?”

  The light shifted again. A headless body in a tweed suit slumped against the far wall.

  “D-dad…” His lips quivered. He could never forget his father’s odd fashion sense. Yet here it was; what was left of him.

  No. This isn’t real. It can’t be.

  Adam crawled backward, but his hand brushed something slick with hair.

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  No… no, please, no.

  A face surfaced in his mind. If his parents were here, only one person remained. He didn’t turn. He didn’t want to. Tears streamed unchecked.

  “Get up.”

  The voice jolted him. Deep. Commanding.

  He turned. A silhouette shifted in the shadows.

  “You bastard!” Adam roared, trying to stand. “What did you do to my family?”

  His legs quivered but held. “I’m going to fucking kill you!”

  “You don’t have much time,” the voice answered, urgent now. “Tell me, what did the demon offer you in exchange for your soul?”

  Adam stared at the figure, teeth clenched. They butchered my family and they’re talking about demons?

  He balled his fists until his nails cut his palms. “I’m going to—”

  His words caught. His arms jerked on their own. His legs, too.

  What the hell is happening?

  “You’ve lost your ability to speak,” the voice said. “The possession is taking hold.”

  Footsteps echoed closer. Adam’s gaze fixed on the approaching shadow.

  “We have little time before the exchange completes,” the voice pressed. “If you want to be saved, repeat after me.”

  A man in a grey trench coat stepped into the light. His eyes glinted faintly.

  “Vahulti,” he commanded.

  Pain detonated in Adam’s body. His arms twisted one way, his legs another. He roared, agony shredding his voice.

  “Repeat it if you want to live!” the man snapped. “Vahulti!”

  Adam roared again, bones screaming, joints threatening to snap.

  “Repeat it!” The man’s voice thundered, laced with authority.

  Adam gritted his teeth, glaring at him. “I’ll kill you for—”

  “Vahulti!”

  A snap cracked through the room.

  Adam screamed. His left leg was gone to numbness, but something held him upright.

  “He’s mine! I won’t let you take him!”

  The voice came from Adam’s own mouth but it wasn’t his.

  That YouTuber’s voice… why is it coming out of me?

  His shattered leg knit itself back together. His arms followed, joints locking into place.

  “Repeat it,” the man urged, stepping closer. His eyes glowed now.

  “That demon will devour your soul if you stay silent,” he barked. “This is your last chance!”

  “Vahulti!” he repeated.

  Adam’s bones twisted again, a new wave of pain ripping through him.

  “No! He’s mine!” the alien voice screamed through Adam’s lips.

  His mind reeled, but somewhere beneath the agony his gut told him: This man is trying to help me.

  He gritted his teeth through the pain and forced the word out: “Vahulti!”

  Glass shattered somewhere beyond sight. Chains rattled like snakes. The walls around Adam dissolved, and the crimson pool beneath him bled away into blackness.

  Chains, dozens—maybe hundreds—whipped out of the dark, coiling around his arms and legs. Every link burned cold against his skin.

  His breath came in shallow bursts.

  “Now is not the time to panic,” the voice called. “Repeat after me. Semiyi.”

  Adam couldn’t see the man anymore, but the voice lingered like iron in the air.

  “Semiyi!” he shouted.

  Chains snapped, sparks of dull light flaring with each break. Muffled wails rose from the darkness.

  “Enterai,” the voice commanded.

  Adam echoed the word instantly. Another cluster of chains shattered, the wails rising into screams.

  With each word, the crushing weight around his body lifted.

  “Miskino,” the voice came again, sharper this time. “Hurry!”

  “Misk—” Pain exploded through his face. His mouth tore open; his eyes felt like they were being gouged out from the inside.

  He screamed, clutching at nothing. The agony drilled into his skull.

  “It’s all in your head,” the voice cut through. “Say it!”

  “MISKINO!” Adam roared.

  The pain blinked out. His sight returned. His mouth was whole again. The chains were gone.

  He was kneeling on a steel floor surrounded by stacked wooden crates. The faint hum of an engine vibrated through the metal under his hands.

  “Congratulations,” the voice said. “You managed to save your soul.”

  Adam jerked his head up. The man from the bloodied room stood there, now clearly visible. Scars snaked across his face like living things, and a thin goatee stained dark red clung to his jaw.

  “Who are you?” Adam’s words stumbled out before his thoughts caught up. Memories of the room, the corpses, the blood, slammed back into his mind.

  “My family…” His voice cracked. “What happened to my family? That couldn’t have been real.”

  “You fool,” the man snapped. “You surrendered your soul to a demon from Outworld. Without my interference, you’d already be damned.” He stepped closer. “Tell me its name.”

  Adam’s thoughts spun. Demon? No. It was just…

  Images of his parents’ bodies. The severed head. The smell of blood. They surged up like a tide.

  “Please,” Adam choked, clutching his head. “Make it stop.”

  Tears streaked his face. His fists clenched until his knuckles whitened. “Mom, Dad, Jason… I’m sorry…”

  He lifted his eyes, voice dropping to a whisper. “Where is that demon?”

  “What will you do when you find it?”

  “I’ll kill that fucking bastard!” Adam roared, teeth bared.

  The man’s lips curved in a thin smile. “Good.” He stepped forward again. “Then I’ll gladly tell you—”

  An explosion ripped through the hold.

  Adam spun toward the noise. Red emergency lights flashed, bathing the room in a strobing glow. A klaxon wailed in time with the lights.

  “It seems your demon isn’t letting go of you so easily,” the man said, his voice remained steady despite the chaos.

  Adam locked eyes with him, staring deep into his emerald eyes burning like coals.

  “Welcome to Outworld,” the man said. “We’ll talk again when you’ve found a new body.”

  Adam blinked. “What the hell do you mean ‘find a new body’?”

  Another explosion shook the floor, throwing him off balance.

  Why does this feel like an aircraft?

  He glanced around, but even the flashing lights showed only shadows and crates.

  “What’s going on? What do you—”

  He froze. Grey flame swirled between the man’s fingers. It wasn’t the color of ash or smoke; it was truly grey, bending the air around it.

  What the hell am I seeing?

  Adam slid back instinctively.

  The man stepped closer. “I don’t have time or patience to explain. This will suffice.”

  He flicked the flames toward Adam. Four sparks; forehead, arms, midsection, legs.

  Adam flinched but felt nothing. He stared at his own hands and feet.

  “I don’t feel anything…” He looked up. “What did you—”

  The sensation hit before he could finish. His body turned weightless, intangible. The floor passed through him like mist.

  The man was gone. Machinery flickered past as Adam sank through levels, deeper and deeper, until—

  Open sky.

  Stars blazed above, scattered across a black ocean. Three moons hung there: two crescents framing a blood-red full moon.

  This isn’t Earth.

  Adam’s stomach lurched as gravity seized him. He plummeted, clouds tearing past, toward a green expanse below.

  Cemeteries. Tombstones and crypts stretched as far as he could see.

  He fell faster.

  “Fuck! Fuck!” Adam spun through the air, screaming, arms flailing.

  I’m going to die when I hit the ground…

  He twisted, praying for anything to slow the fall, but nothing did. Wind howled past his ears until—

  A thunderous impact.

  He blinked. He was lying in the ruins of a shattered tombstone, half-buried in a crater.

  I don’t feel anything.

  He ran his hands over himself. No pain, no dust, not even a scratch.

  He stared at the crater beneath him: it sank deep, cracked stone, and pulverized earth. “How the hell did I survive that?”

  The night above was impossibly clear. Three moons glowed among the stars.

  “Where the hell is this place?” he muttered.

  The air was cold and sour, thick with mold and the faint tang of blood. Weeds choked rows of tombstones as far as he could see.

  “You survived.”

  Adam spun toward the voice, heart hammering, but no one was there.

  “It’s useless to look,” the voice came again: calm, distant, but familiar. “You’re in Wrathriver Necropolis. I’m leading the demons away, but I can only hold them off for about an hour. In that time, you must secure a new body.”

  “A new body?” Adam barked. “What’s wrong with this one?”

  Silence.

  He turned in circles, scanning the graves, but the voice was gone.

  He opened his mouth to curse, but his right hand jerked violently. A grey flame burst from his palm and vanished as quickly as it appeared.

  Pain ripped through him. He clutched his head as veins bulged and writhed beneath his skin.

  “You’ll undergo full demonification within an hour,” the voice echoed faintly. “Find a new body, or your soul is lost.”

  Adam didn’t bother searching this time. He could barely stay upright.

  Demonification? He didn’t know what it meant, but it sure as hell wasn’t good.

  He staggered forward. “Fuck…” He wiped blood, or something like it, from his mouth. “I’d rather die than—” He stopped himself. No. He wouldn’t die. Not before killing that demon.

  He limped on, using crooked gravestones for support. The necropolis sprawled endlessly, catacombs buried beneath weeds and stone.

  I need to find a body. Fast.

  “Hello?” he shouted hoarsely. “What am I supposed to do when I find one? Should they be alive or dead?”

  Only silence answered.

  “Fuck!” He slammed a fist into a gravestone. Another flame burst from his chest, knocking him backward. His legs twisted unnaturally before vanishing completely.

  He screamed as his body hit the ground, what was left of it shaking violently.

  “Find a new body,” the voice came again, fainter now. “You don’t have much time.”

  Adam gritted his teeth and began to crawl.

  Minutes passed under the cold moons. He dragged himself across the damp soil, leaving streaks behind where his legs used to be. His left hand was gone. Half his torso, too. But he refused to stop.

  “I don’t want to die,” he whispered, breath ragged. “Not here…”

  He didn’t know how long he’d been crawling. Time meant nothing now, only the goal mattered.

  “I won’t die,” he growled. “Not until I—”

  He froze. Footprints. Fresh ones, pressed deep into the damp earth, leading toward a massive crypt.

  There’s someone here.

  He crawled faster, clawing at the ground.

  The mausoleum loomed ahead, its gates wide open, exhaling a rot so thick it burned his nose. Inside, the faint glint of red light pulsed in the dark.

  “Somebody… help me,” he croaked.

  No reply. Only faint, rhythmic chanting, almost musical.

  He dragged himself toward the sound, down a narrow staircase that reeked of mildew and death.

  “Help… me…” His voice cracked as his vision swam.

  Shadows flickered along the wall.

  He reached the bottom and froze.

  Figures in black cloaks moved in a circle around a stone altar. Seven sarcophagi stood open in a heptagram pattern, each containing a corpse.

  What the hell is this?

  His gaze drifted upward. Two children hung bound and blindfolded above the altar, their small bodies trembling.

  The cloaked figures danced faster, chanting in some alien tongue. Candles flared, flames bending toward the center as if drawn by the ritual’s pull.

  Then one of the figures leapt into the heptagram’s center, arms raised high.

  Adam watched as the bound boy was lowered toward the waiting figure.

  They’re going to kill that kid.

  He clenched what was left of his fists. I can’t let that happen.

  But what could he do? His body was half gone; a crawling ruin of what it used to be. The robed figures wouldn’t even see him as a threat.

  There has to be something… anything.

  The boy drifted closer to the outstretched hand of the lead ritualist. Adam could feel it—that moment of no return.

  I won’t just watch him die.

  He dragged himself forward. “Leave the kid alone!”

  No one reacted. The chanting continued, rhythmic and fevered, the circle spinning faster.

  “I said leave him alone!” Adam roared, pushing forward with the last strength in his arms. He threw himself at the nearest figure, and went straight through them.

  Cold. Empty. Like plunging through smoke.

  What the hell—?

  The robed man didn’t even flinch. His lips moved, murmuring words that made Adam’s skin crawl, syllables too wrong to belong in any language he knew.

  I passed through him…?

  Before he could think further, grey fire erupted across his fading body. Pain detonated through his spine. He screamed, twisting on the floor as his vision blurred into white.

  “You did well to come this far,” a woman’s voice said, calm and melodic cut through the chaos. “Leave the rest to me. You’ve done enough.”

  From the edge of his dimming sight, he glimpsed at a lone figure descending the stairs.

  Then, everything went black.