Staying behind the broken wall, Reever expected the system to pull him into another match at any moment, to throw him once more into the line of fire. He braced himself for the blinding light, for the familiar jolt of respawn. But nothing happened. The silence stretched, heavy and uneasy.
Minutes passed.
He began to understand — the system wasn't forcing him into another match. It only responded when he wanted to fight. As long as he resisted, as long as he refused to will himself into battle, he remained here, in this quiet ruin of Dawnville.
Fear still clung to him like smoke. For the first time, he realized what that feeling truly was. Not the cold precision of combat, not the thrill of near-death reflexes — this was something deeper. It was raw, human fear.
In his past life, fear had never been part of him. He couldn't remember trembling like this, not even during the hardest days. The only fear he had ever known was the brief, harmless kind — like when his wife would give him that sharp, warning glance that told him to stop whatever nonsense he was doing. Otherwise, Reever had always felt in control. Born to a wealthy father, raised with discipline and expectation, he had grown up shielded. No one dared bully him, not because of kindness, but because of who he was — strong, confident, and untouchable. Even as a boy, his broad shoulders and calm composure had made him seem unshakable, someone others followed rather than challenged.
But now, for the first time, he was alone with a fear that no amount of status, strength, or upbringing could silence. The fear of dying — truly dying.
He wanted to live.
The realization came softly, almost shamefully. He wanted to live, even if this life was made of code, even if his memories, his voice, his body were nothing more than a digital construct. Whether he was a person or a program didn't matter anymore. The desire to exist burned too fiercely to question its origin.
Before, he had treated all this as a game — a playground of skill and reflex. Death meant nothing but a reset. But now, everything had changed. Every breath, every step, every shot fired had weight. If he wanted to keep existing, he had to fight for it, not as a player chasing a score, but as a being desperate to survive.
As he sat in thought, an idea began to take shape in his mind.
What happens beyond the match?
"Are the maps reset when someone wins?" he wondered aloud. "Can anyone even walk out of the map? Or are we trapped in these boundaries, like cages dressed as battlefields?"
The thought stirred something in him — curiosity, rebellion, a faint echo of the adventurous boy he once was.
He rose slowly, brushing dust from his sleeves, and decided to test it for himself. He was at the center of the map, near the ruined church, so he turned toward the distant edge of the city where the rubble met open ground. Beyond, he could see a vast expanse of green — rolling fields that stretched toward distant cities under a pale sky. He had seen that view before, but never thought of approaching it as the moment he did, a force field would force him back to the game.
Now, he did.
The streets grew quieter as he walked. The smoke thinned, replaced by the clean scent of wind and grass. After several minutes, he reached the edge — a broken bridge connecting the ruins of Dawnville to the open fields beyond.
He hesitated, staring at the empty space ahead.
One step forward. He expected resistance, some invisible barrier, maybe a repulsive force throwing him back. But nothing happened.
He took another step.
[Warning!If the player goes outside the map, his life will be his own and will receive no protection from the system.Proceed at your own risk.]
The message flickered before his eyes. The system, which had claimed to be in hibernation, had suddenly spoken again.
Reever froze. His heartbeat quickened. The warning was clear. Out there, beyond this boundary, there were no second chances. No respawn. No safety net. And once his eight lives that remained were done for, it would be his end,
He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. He didn't want to die. The fear was still real, still gripping his chest. But at the same time, something inside him stirred — the same spark that had once driven him to take risks, to explore, to lead.
"So what if I die?" he whispered to himself. "Death is death. It comes for all of us eventually. I'm already living on borrowed time." He chuckled softly. "If I'm supposed to be dead, then let it happen my way."
And with that, he stepped forward.
[Warning!The player has left the map boundary.As a countermeasure, the system grants the player access to their weapons and loadout.Survive.]
Another message appeared, cold but almost… merciful. It was as if the system was giving him a farewell gift. A final chance.
He blinked as his HUD flickered to life. His full loadout had returned — armor, weapons, perks, skills. Everything. For the first time since the battle, he felt the faint comfort of power again.
With a single thought, he summoned his armor. A bluish metallic sheen rippled across his chest, spreading like liquid light until it covered his entire body. The helmet sealed around his head, the visor humming to life. The armor felt heavy yet reassuring, like a second skin molded by purpose.
"Camouflage: green," he murmured, and instantly, the blue turned into deep forest tones, blending him with the field around him.
[Phase Mirage: activated.]
He smiled faintly beneath the helmet. "Now that's more like it."
A soft hum followed as he summoned his weapon — a sleek, bluish sniper rifle that shimmered in his grasp. He aimed at a distant tree, exhaled, and fired. The bullet cut through the air like lightning, and the tree exploded into splinters.
He grinned. "Thanks for the bribe, System. I'll live. You'll see."
The rifle vanished at his command, fading into light. He checked his gear — grenades, gadgets, and a few precious supplies. Everything was back. Everything he needed to survive.
He turned toward the open field stretching beyond the bridge. The cities he had seen from afar shimmered faintly under the sun.
With every step, the ground beneath him felt less like pixels and more like earth. The wind felt real. The fear, still there, whispered of death , but beneath it was something else. A sense of purpose.
Reever adjusted his rifle strap, took one last look at the ruins of Dawnville behind him, and began walking toward the horizon.
For the first time since his death, he wasn't running from fear.He was walking toward it, even if it killed him.