Noob’s breath came in ragged, wheezing pulls as they stumbled deeper into the trees, their green legs caked in wet mud that clung like regret. Every shadow between the trunks looked like it was breathing, waiting to lunge with gloved hands and steel. Their inventory was almost empty—one last Bloxy Cola shaking in their grip, a crumpled ghostburger they couldn’t bring themselves to eat yet, because invisibility felt like a coward’s trick. But God, they were so scared. Their heart felt too big for their blocky chest, fluttering and aching in a way that made them want to scream until the sky split open. They’d never been alone like this, not since the day Guest 666 disappeared, that day everything bright about the world turned into something worth fearing.

They pressed their forehead against the rough bark of a tree and shut their eyes, feeling the helplessness crack them open from the inside. Was this all they were—yellow plastic, a scared little Noob too soft to fight back? They remembered the cart rides with their friends, how they’d laughed so hard it hurt, how safe it had felt to be needed. Now the island felt alive, hungry, echoing with the cruel laughter of killers they couldn’t see. The thought of never seeing Tac again, of never escaping, struck them with such raw terror that they nearly dropped the Cola. And still, in the pit of all that dread, something in them clenched tight—some stubborn, defiant spark that refused to just give up. Even if their hands shook and their chest heaved, they were going to survive this nightmare. Or they’d die trying.