For Early/Extra Chapters : patreon.com/scoldeyjodxd
Already 30+ Chapters Updated + Daily Updates
Maverick took one step, and then another, and then he just... kept going.
He wasn't walking toward the church anymore. He was stomping through the snow in a loose circuit around the church steps, head down, watching his own feet with the focused attention of a scientist who had just discovered something that shouldn't exist.
The snow did two different things when he stepped on it.
That was the part he couldn't get over. When his boot came down on undisturbed powder, the snow compressed and spread outward — pushed aside, displaced, behaving exactly the way fresh snow behaved under weight. But when he stepped in the same spot twice, the second footfall produced something different: a denser, flatter resistance, the surface already packed from the first impact. Two distinct physical states, both rendered in real-time, both feeding back through the haptic system with enough fidelity that his brain had stopped questioning whether it was real.
In Everyone Come Shoot, the snow was gorgeous. Individually rendered crystals, volumetric light catching each flake, the kind of visual achievement that got featured in tech demo reels. But when your character walked through it, the snow simply... parted. No resistance. No state change. Like walking through a beautiful painting.
This was different. This was physics.
[Analyzing]: okay I noticed this too — the snow has TWO states, compressed and displaced, simultaneously
[Technical]: that's dynamic deformation, real-time, this should not be possible at this fidelity level
[Impressed]: as expected of a man who eats two bowls of noodles by himself, the analysis is thorough
[Maverick]: HEY. That's not what I said.
[Chaos]: it's basically what you said
[NotChaos]: it's exactly what you said
"I said I could eat two bowls," Maverick said with enormous dignity, finally stopping his snow-stomping circuit and turning back toward the church. "There's a difference between capability and habit. Learn it."
The chat dissolved into laughter. Maverick allowed himself exactly one second of amusement before pushing the church door open.
And then he stopped talking entirely.
The church interior unfolded in front of him like a held breath releasing — tall and still and saturated with a particular quality of light that came through the blue stained-glass windows along the back wall. The pews were dark wood, arranged in two rows along a central aisle that led to a limestone statue at the far end, larger than a person, carved with the unhurried confidence of something that had been made to last. Sunlight pressed through the stained glass in long, cool columns, filling the air with blue and pale gold.
It was the kind of space that made you feel quieter just by being in it.
[Speechless]: ...
[Architecture]: this CEILING
[Converted]: I want to convert to whatever religion this is
[Flooring]: the FLOOR
[Pews]: the WOODEN BENCHES
[Honest]: I'm genuinely moved right now
[Theology]: I hope you actually mean that
"Can everyone please expand their vocabulary slightly," Maverick said. "We have access to the entire English language and we're using approximately seven words of it."
[Chat]: HOLY —
[Chat]: we have our words and we're keeping them
He stepped further into the church, taking it in properly — the way the acoustic space swallowed ambient sound and replaced it with a deep, resonant quiet, the slight temperature difference from the cold outside, the specific quality of peace that old stone buildings seemed to generate just by existing. The haptic system was doing something subtle here too, a faint shift in the environmental feedback that he couldn't quite name but could definitely feel.
He was still processing this when he noticed the figure beneath the statue.
An elderly man. White hair, red eyes, the posture of someone who had been waiting long enough that waiting had simply become his natural state. He watched Maverick approach without expression — not hostile, not welcoming, just present with a completeness that made him feel more real than any NPC Maverick had ever encountered.
When Maverick got close enough, the old man stood.
"You've arrived," he said. His voice was low and even. "The Holy Relic has been prepared for you. Now — begin the Heroic Spirit summoning."
A dialogue box materialized in Maverick's vision. Three options, clean and neatly formatted.
[Then let's begin!]
[No need — I've prepared my own Holy Relic.]
[Heroic Spirit? I don't need any Heroic Spirit. I'll tear them apart with my bare hands. Get out of my way, old man.]
Maverick read all three options.
He sat with them for approximately two seconds.
[Chat]: maverick no
[Chat]: MAVERICK NO
[Psychic]: he's going to pick the third one
[AlsoPsychic]: he is absolutely going to pick the third one
[Resigned]: we all know what's happening here
He picked the third one.
The character's voice — low, worn-down, carrying the specific exhaustion of a man who had been through several things too many — delivered the line with complete sincerity: "Heroic Spirit? I don't need any Heroic Spirit. I'll tear them apart with my bare hands. Get out of my way, old man."
The elderly NPC blinked. A genuine, almost human moment of processing what he'd just heard.
Maverick's character flung his trench coat back, turned, and walked straight out of the church.
[Losing_It]: THE COAT FLIP
[Helpless]: he really said "no thank you" to the entire tutorial
[Impressed_Against_Will]: okay the animation on that coat flip was actually clean
The scene outside had changed. The desolate winter landscape was gone — in its place, a full airport, busy and loud, departure boards cycling through destinations, travelers moving in every direction with the specific purposeful urgency of people who had somewhere to be. In the upper left corner of his vision, a blood-red timer appeared: 2:00:00, already counting down.
A notification box popped up:
[Online mode active. You have been matched with a worthy opponent.]
"Ho ho," Maverick said, reading it. "A worthy opponent. Brothers, I hope you're comfortable."
[Delivery]: my food gets here in five minutes Maverick please don't start yet
[Overtime]: I'm literally at work right now, WHY am I watching this
[Fishing]: you'll never believe the thirty-pound bass I caught today
[WhoIsThis]: where did the fishing guy come from
[Betting]: ten bucks Maverick gets first-killed
[Honorable]: I'm not betting against that, I'd be stealing money
[Optimistic]: actually though — game just launched, server population is probably tiny, Maverick might genuinely win by default
[Realist]: Maverick will find a way
[Savage]: if he wins I'll eat my keyboard
Maverick, ignoring approximately all of this, was studying the airport with the focused calm of a man with a plan. He located his luggage on the baggage carousel — a large hard-case suitcase, the kind that didn't announce what was inside — picked it up, and carried it toward the security checkpoint with the relaxed confidence of someone who had absolutely nothing to hide.
He placed the suitcase on the conveyor belt.
The belt moved it through.
A series of beeps — sharp, urgent, unmistakably alarmed — cut through the ambient airport noise.
"Wait," Maverick said. He looked at the security personnel. He looked at the X-ray screen. He looked at the weapons readout on his character's item list, which he was only now properly reading for the first time. "Oh. Oh, I see. Okay. I'm an arms dealer. So naturally I need to—"
[BANG.]
The screen went black.
The chat needed a moment.
[Processing]: ...
[StillProcessing]: ...
[Done]: MAVERICK.
[Eulogy]: he didn't even make it to the exit
[Witness]: I watched it happen and I still don't fully believe it
[Fishing_Guy]: this is better than catching my thirty-pound bass
[GriefStricken]: my ten spicy strips, Maverick, you died to an NPC before you even saw another player
[Thoughtful]: okay but actually — that character is carrying like seven weapons through airport security. How was he supposed to get through? That's interesting game design.
[Defense]: you don't understand, those first two rounds were a gift to them
[NotADefense]: that's not a defense, Maverick
Maverick sat in the black screen for a moment.
"Brothers," he said finally, with great composure. "You need to believe in my wisdom."
[Chat]: WE BELIEVE IN YOUR WISDOM
[Chat]: WE BELIEVE IN YOUR WISDOM MAVERICK
[Chat]: (we do not believe in your wisdom)
"I heard that last one." He cracked his knuckles. "Again."
Show Some Supports By Giving Powerstones
NEXT BONUS Chapter at 200 Powerstones