Shadow-Side

The exit had already revealed itself.

John Smith, master of covert operations, razor wire combat, and economic warfare, stood poised to leave.

But then—his instincts screamed.

A shiver ran down his spine. Not fear—anticipation.

He turned his head slightly, just enough to catch the flicker of movement.

A shadow. A glint of steel. The faint hum of an engine revving up.

And then—

VRRRRRRROOOOOM!!!

A chainsaw came swinging down at Mila’s skull.

John Smith moved.

Not a wasted step. Not a wasted breath.

With a flick of his wrist, his razor wire shot out, twisting around the blade mid-swing.

SCREEEEECH!!!

Sparks erupted as chainsaw teeth met deadly wire, shrieking like dying metal.

Mila barely had time to blink before she saw—

A young woman, grinning wildly, her eyes gleaming with pure insanity.

Crazy Mita.

She licked her lips. "Tch, not bad. But who the hell are you?"

John Smith tilted his head. His golden eyes gleamed beneath his sharply angled bangs.

[John Smith]: "An operative. A shadow in the darkness. A mere phantom playing his role."

Crazy Mita snorted. "What kinda dramatic loser—"

John Smith tightened his grip.

The chainsaw shattered into pieces.

Mita’s grin twitched.

“…Oh.”

Mita didn’t hesitate.

In an instant, she grabbed another weapon out of nowhere— a massive cleaver this time—and lunged.

John Smith sidestepped.

But the sheer force of her attack—ripped the floor apart.

And suddenly—

They fell.

Right through the game’s code.

Reality distorted. The world around them melted into pixels.

And then—

WHAM.

They landed—in a completely different version of the game.

Version 3.2 – The RPG Edition

They hit the ground hard, dust flying everywhere.

John Smith stood up, adjusting his tie.

Crazy Mita groaned, sitting up—only to pause.

“…Why the hell do I have an HP bar?”

John Smith glanced at his own stats.

> John Smith – Level ???
HP: 9999/9999
Status: Too Cool to Take Damage

Crazy Mita – Level 90

> HP: 6666/6666
Status: Pissed Off

Mita huffed. “Fine. If it’s an RPG—”

She pulled up a command menu.

[Crazy Mita used Berserk Slash!]

John Smith dodged effortlessly, countering with—

[John Smith used Tax Evasion]

Crazy Mita took 9999 psychological damage.

Mita: “WHAT KIND OF ATTACK IS THAT?!”

Version 2.5 – The Horror Mode

Their RPG bodies pixelated, dissolving into darkness—

Then suddenly—

Flickering lights. Bloodstained walls. A grotesque, eerie ambiance.

Crazy Mita looked down—she was glitching, distorting.

“…Ew. Why do I look like a possessed corpse?”

John Smith, however, was unbothered.

His suit was still flawless.

Mita swung at him with her chainsaw—only for shadowy hands from the horror game’s corrupted code to grab her mid-attack.

"OH HELL NO."

She ripped them apart with brute force.

John Smith merely watched.

[John Smith]: "This world rejects you. You're out of your depth."

Mita sneered. "Oh yeah? Watch this."

She reached into her pocket—

And pulled out a glitched health potion.

Chugging it instantly corrupted the entire world.

John Smith, impressed, simply nodded.

"...Resourceful."

Version 1.0 – The Dating Sim Era

Suddenly—the world reset.

They were in a high school setting.

Crazy Mita blinked.

“…Why the hell do I have a school uniform?!”

John Smith, now in a sleek blazer, casually adjusted his school badge.

A floating text box appeared above them.

> Crazy Mita has entered the tsundere route!
[1] Call her cute.
[2] Call her bitch.
[3] Remain silent like a true anime protagonist.

John Smith selected Option 3.

Crazy Mita froze.

“…Why is my heart rate increasing?”

John Smith smirked.

"Perhaps," he said coolly, "this game is revealing truths you're not ready to face."

She screamed in rage, swinging wildly

And they crashed into yet another version.

Version 0.1 – The oldest version

This time, the world around them was nothing but raw, unfinished data.

No UI. No game mechanics.

Nothing but an endless void of white mist.

Crazy Mita gasped.

"...No way. This is—"

John Smith nodded.

"The oldest version of your existence."

Mita looked down at herself. Her body was glitching.

She was losing her form.

She was—

Weak.

John Smith readied his razor wire.

"This is where your reign of terror ends."

Crazy Mita gritted her teeth.

"No. I refuse to go down like this—"

And then—

A voice echoed.

“…Help… me…”

Both fighters turned.

And standing there—twisted, broken, monstrous—

Ugly Creepy Mita.

John Smith narrowed his eyes.

Crazy Mita smirked.