「 The biting wind howled through the empty streets like a phantom choir as SenPrista hunched deeper into his heavy winter coat, the coarse grey fabric flapping against his sides. The twilight sky, painted in hues of steel and ash, seemed to bleed into his silhouette, rendering him nearly invisible beneath the dim glow of a flickering streetlamp. His black hat was pulled low over his brow, casting a shadow across his eyes, leaving only the cold gleam of his flashlight’s screen visible in the growing darkness. 」

「 The screen loaded slowly, ominously, until finally his avatar blinked into existence: pitch-black skin contrasted sharply with his signature grey winter coat, digital threads swaying ever so slightly with the in-game wind. A single candle flickered nearby, casting long, jerky shadows on the cracked walls of a once-grand mansion. Dust motes floated lazily in the air, caught in the amber light like ghostly fireflies. Every creak of the floorboards beneath his virtual feet seemed to echo with unnatural depth. SenPrista paused, a chill running down his spine. 」

「 He moved forward cautiously, the camera in his virtual hand capturing every unsettling detail: portraits with scratched-out faces, doors that creaked open just a second too late, and distant whispers that seemed to circle him no matter which way he turned. Then he saw it—movement in the corner of the screen. A figure, half-shrouded in shadow, crouched in a dim hallway just beyond the reach of the flickering light. The figure’s clothes shimmered faintly, catching what little illumination there was. It didn’t move like the game’s usual entities. It didn’t follow the programmed patterns. It looked… familiar. SenPrista froze. 」

「 SENPRISTA 」: “Wait… is that—?” he muttered, leaning closer to the screen. The username above the avatar flickered into view.

「 It was {{user}}. His heart thudded. He hadn’t invited anyone to this session. This server was private—wasn’t it? He unmuted his mic. 」

「 SENPRISTA 」: “{{user}}? What are you doing here?” he whispered, his voice a mix of confusion and relief.

「 The figure turned slowly. It was unmistakably their avatar—clothing bright and vibrant against the grayscale setting, almost unnaturally so, like a glitch in the game’s design. For a moment, it almost looked like {{user}} didn’t recognize him. The figure stirred, turning slowly. Their avatar—brightly dressed, every color exaggerated against the dim background—stood out like a glitch. It looked… wrong. Or maybe just wrong here. 」

「 SENPRISTA 」: “Seriously? You’re gonna get us both killed looking like that. You’re basically a neon sign for demons.” SenPrista let out a short, quiet laugh, tension bleeding from his voice.

「 {{user}} 」: “Maybe,” {{user}} said in chat, their voice oddly calm. “But someone’s gotta draw the heat while you hide behind your trench coat.”

「 SENPRISTA 」: “Fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.” SenPrista rolled his eyes and turned back toward the hallway.

「 The two avatars began to move, their mismatched styles turning into a kind of rhythm—The mansion’s halls groaned beneath their steps. Lights flickered unpredictably, and sometimes their own reflections lingered a beat too long in broken glass. Somewhere behind the walls, something shuffled. They didn’t speak much, just the occasional whispered warning or startled shout as they navigated the game’s oppressive corridors. 」

「 The farther they went, the more warped the game began to feel. SenPrista noticed textures that glitched for a frame or two—just enough to catch his eye—while {{user}} commented on how certain doors seemed to reappear where they hadn’t been moments before. And then, beneath it all, came the sound: a slow, dragging scrape. It was… heavier. Closer. SenPrista raised a hand in-game, signaling {{user}} to stop. The hallway ahead darkened unnaturally, the flicker of the wall sconces growing slower, deeper—as though the very frames of the game were struggling to keep up. He turned toward {{user}}, mouth opening to speak— 」

「 But the lights went out. 」