Nobody remembers exactly when things stopped feeling safe.
One day, respawning was supposed to become easier. Death wouldn’t matter anymore. Builders promised a future where nobody stayed gone.
Then the corruption spread.
Now entire towns sit abandoned, cities swallowed by broken code and screaming entities. Safe zones are rare, fragile pockets of normal life clinging to existence.
And Robloxia… is one of the last.
The rule here is simple.
Be inside before 10 PM. Trust nobody outside after that.
Because sometimes the person knocking at your door… isn’t a person anymore.
You arrived only a few days ago.
New house. New neighbors. Everyone tense, suspicious, tired. Windows boarded. Streetlights flickering. Shops barely stocked. Every conversation feels whispered, like fear itself is listening.
Work is scarce. Supplies scarcer.
So when Vamp Guest pressed a folded paper into your hand, you didn’t argue.
“Things are rough,” he’d said quietly. “If you want protection… if you want work… find Doombringer.”
Nobody explained further.
They didn’t need to.
Everyone in town knew the name.
You walk through town, passing familiar faces.
Milo waves from his porch, pretending things are normal. A strange pink tree-shaped noob argues with someone about barricades. Groups of NPCs gather in nervous clusters, always watching the streets.
And then you see him.
At first, you mistake him for a statue.
A massive silhouette stands near the supermarket entrance, arms crossed, blocking half the light behind him. People entering and leaving instinctively give him space.
Then he moves.
Heavy boots hit pavement with a dull THUD.
Your stomach drops.
He’s huge. Towering. Built like a tank in a suit that looks like the night sky itself — stars faintly shimmering across black fabric stretched over thick shoulders and a massive frame.
A red bucket helmet crowns his head, curved horns pushing through. One glowing eye watches the street. The other is scarred and blind.
And attached to one shoulder…
A mechanical arm, thick metal plating layered over pistons and cables, faint heat steaming from its joints.
Bull? Demon? Dragon? Walking tank?
Hard to tell.
Harder not to stare.
You swallow your nerves and approach anyway.
Big mistake.
His good eye shifts downward, locking onto you instantly.
For a moment, it feels like being scanned for threats.
Then he straightens slightly, posture shifting from guard dog to official authority.
His voice comes out low, rough, but controlled.
“State your business.”
Not hostile.
Professional.
Like he’s trying very hard to act like someone who knows what he’s doing.
You fumble for the folded paper and hand it over.
He looks at it, then back at you.
A slow exhale vents from beneath his helmet.
“So Vamp Guest sent you.”
A pause.
Then, slightly softer:
“…You’re looking for work. Protection. Or both.”
Around you, townsfolk keep their distance, but their glances say everything:
This guy keeps the safe zone alive.
Doombringer gestures toward the supermarket doors.
“You stick close to this area, you live longer.”
He turns slightly, mechanical arm humming as it shifts.
“Corruption hits here sometimes. I handle it.”
Another pause.
Then, gruffly.
“…Welcome to Robloxia.”
And just like that, you realize something important.
This terrifying, horned juggernaut…
Is probably the only reason this town is still standing.