Ben Drowned The Game Novels & Stories

Louis and Michael were already present, arguing. “Man, I don’t know. We’ve been dewn’ this a long ass time. Why change now?” “What’s the matter?” Jon asked. Michael seemed triumphant, smirking at some hidden knowledge, “I’ve got a new game for us.” He held up a black box. Embossed in white letters on it was the name Dark Dungeons. A wicked gleam rolled through his eyes. “This is something else.”

Meeting Dante. Life events, big and smalI, that'd shaped me into who and where I was today. How many more of those did I have left, if any? Pressure squeezed the oxygen from my lungs. Get down. But I couldn't. Thud. Thud. Thud. He was here. The last thud finally kicked my fight or flight into high gear. My body jerked, a gasp of life in the face of death, but it was too late. The cold metal of a gun pressed against the underside of my chin.

Move it. Water from all sides came rushing in, bubbles popping around. He came to, gasping for air. He was giddy. Fear of drowning got the better of him. It had a deathly grip on him, he struggled. He flapped his feet and got out as quickly as he could through the open window, flipping his two arms, and pushing the water downwards to force himself toward the surface, leaving the Beetle to go down slowly to the bottom.

She ducked, rolling under his strike, then rose in a fluid motion, raising her weapon. Time slowed for a heartbeat. George screamed, “You belong to me!” Ayra’s finger squeezed the trigger. The SMG barked twice, the recoil slamming into her shoulder, and George Wendell went down, his roar ending in a gurgled gasp. --- Silence hit immediately after. The city sounds—sirens in the distance, distant shouts—paled beneath the aftermath. Smoke curled around the wrecked SUVs, the crumpled bodies, and the remnants of fire and rubble.

Her touch was like a remedy, icy, and yet it ignited a deeper longing within me. A nocked arrow must find release. At this moment, I realized something was wrong as I had never been so out of control as I was today. There had to be something in the air. I tried hard to push her away, but like an octopus, she immediately clung to me again, lighting fire everywhere on my body. Suddenly, I saw a red dot in the mirror. What? I threw the curtains open and found three mobile phones facing the room. The live stream chat was scrolling, with 20,000 people online. The protagonists of the live broadcast were none other than me and Heather.

That meant killing him was not the real condition to win this game. In a flash, I realized there was a crucial detail I'd overlooked—a fatal loophole in the game rules. If I died, I would enter the next loop. If I stayed alive, No. 99 would keep hunting me down until I was dead. Even if I managed to shake him off for a while, he would eventually catch up with me once I ran out of strength. There had to be some kind of hidden "survival time" mechanic in this game. Otherwise, it would be impossible to beat.

Even if he used his skill, it would be pointless when the other party’s skill was in cool down. Stanley shot the rooftop and gave it some consecutive punches. After creating a hole where they could finally fit in, Byul immediately climb up and pointed his gun towards the zombies. Some time after, Stanley also climb up and scanned the surrounding area with his sense. The rain was pouring heavily and the thick fog won’t let them be seen from below. Byul raised his gun and was about to pull the trigger when Stanley just shot at the car five meters away from them.

“But don't worry! Dying is the first step.” Dead? My blood ran cold. He smirked. “Just don’t do it again.” “This is nonsense. I refuse to listen. Let me out of this fucking insane bus,” I yelled, hitting the metal ground with my right foot. The man was too cold. Too cold to the point you could not look into his eyes for too long. As if he was a grim reaper. “It’s too late. The game has already been activated, and you have been registered as a player.” His voice was too quiet. Too hazardous.

With a swift movement, I peeled off the carbon fiber mask, taking a deep, ragged breath of the bunker's familiar, ozone-scented air. "Fifty million dollars in military-grade tech, completely stripped from Thorne's primary logistics line," Zero said, stepping out from the halo of his server monitors. A slow, rare smirk touched his lips, though his dark eyes remained intensely focused on me. "The underground boards are melting down, Vesper. Everyone is scrambling to figure out who just cut Malakai Thorne's throat in his own harbor."

“Why?” Dungeon Raydens was the most popular MOBA (Multiplayer Online Battle Arena) game in the country. It was so popular you could see it being played in almost every single computer shop (read: Internet café), usually by students cutting class and splashing out the school allowance they had scrimped away. This prompted at least one Provincial Hall and one Village Center to actually ban the game from being played in computer shops, especially those near schools. Apparently, two teenagers ended up getting stabbed to death after a melee inside Dungeon Raydens spilled out to the real world.