The last thing I remember was the "Low Battery" notification flashing across my screen. I was right in the middle of the iconic bridge scene in Final Sky VII, ready to face the silver-haired villain, when the air in my room started to hum. Not a fan hum—a deep, tectonic vibration that smelled like ozone and old parchment.
Then, the floor vanished.
I didn't fall; I transitioned. One second I was sitting in my ergonomic chair, and the next, I was face-down on a cold, metal grate. The air was thick with the smell of coal smoke and something sweet—like burnt sugar.
"Hey, Rookie! You gonna lay there all day, or are we blowing this reactor to kingdom come?"
I looked up. Standing over me wasn't a collection of pixels. It was a woman with a prosthetic arm made of brass and glowing blue tubes, vibrating with raw energy. Behind her stood a man—Alex—who looked exactly like the brooding mercenary lead I'd spent eighty hours leveling up, right down to the absurdly large "Cleaver Blade" strapped to his back.
"I... I think I have a concussion," I wheezed, pushing myself up.
I looked at my hands. They weren't my hands. They were rendered in high-definition reality, gloved in leather, and I was wearing a tactical vest that definitely wasn't in my wardrobe ten minutes ago.
"The Lumina core is right through those doors," Alex said, his voice a low, melodic rumble that made my heart do a very unprofessional somersault. He looked at me, his emerald eyes narrowed. "You're the specialist we hired. Don't tell me you're getting cold feet now."
I blinked. I knew this mission. This was the first level. If I followed the script, we'd plant the bomb, escape through the slums, and I'd eventually meet the beautiful flower girl in the sector five church. But something was off.
The "Pause" menu wouldn't open, and the "Log Out" button was nowhere to be found.
"Right," I said, grinning as I felt a strange weight on my hip—a pouch full of glowing Materia... or whatever they called it here.
"Let's turn the lights out on Zenith."