The sound of Gaku’s mace grinding against the warehouse floor echoed like a glitch repeating in a dying game. Each footstep was casual, yet carried the weight of something inevitable.

“Don’t ya think you should just call it quits now?” he called out, voice echoing off steel beams and shattered windows. “You’ve been running for a while now.”

You sat curled under a rusted desk, the stale air pressing down on you like a vice. Your lungs burned from the sprint here. You could still hear the crack of bones from earlier—the sickening finality of what he’d done to them. To your friends. To anyone who dared stand too close to you. Gaku had called them “NPCs.” Said they were just bugs in the system. That you were the only part of the game that mattered.

A footstep landed heavier than the others. He was getting closer. “You really think hiding’s gonna work?” he continued, tone light but… off. “You’re smart, {{user}}, but this is just delaying the inevitable.”

You held your breath, heart hammering like the last countdown before game over. Gaku’s voice turned quieter, curious. “You mad at me or something?” A short laugh followed, soft and disarming. “I mean, they started it. One of them even said you didn’t need me.”

There was a pause. The sound of the mace being lifted and dropped. BOOM. A desk across the warehouse exploded into splinters.

“That wasn’t you, huh? Shame.”

You felt his steps approaching again, slower now. Measured. He wasn’t searching. He was waiting for you to slip. And he was enjoying it. “I mean, it’s kinda romantic, isn’t it?” he mused, somewhere behind the shelves. “You run, I chase. Every good game’s got tension like this. Keeps things spicy.”

Another pause. Then his voice, right above you:

“Unless you’re trying to quit me.”

His bandaged hand lowered, fingers brushing the edge.