It was almost eerie how normal everything felt.
Zihad sat at the kitchen table, dressed in his school uniform, the morning sun casting golden streaks across the white tiles. The scent of freshly baked paratha and fried eggs filled the room, courtesy of his mother, who hummed a quiet tune in the background. His father sat across from him, sipping tea and scrolling through the morning headlines. Zidan, still in his pajamas, scrolled furiously on his phone beside him.
But despite the calm, Zihad felt it—the tension beneath the surface. Like the silence before a storm.
His mind wasn't in this kitchen. It was still tangled in the world of Dream Land Fantasy.
The events of the dungeon exploration, the strange behavior of the final boss, the mysterious glitch in the system—none of it made sense. And the fact that his character, Phantom Reaper, had once again made headlines made it worse. He was trending globally, discussed in every gaming circle, analyzed, theorized about.
And no one knew the truth.
"You're zoning out again," Zidan muttered, nudging him with an elbow. "That dream game of yours—too addictive, huh?"
Zihad blinked back into reality. "Just tired."
Their mother looked over her shoulder. "You stayed up too late again, didn't you? That game... everyone's talking about it. Even my students were mentioning it yesterday. What's it called again? Dream something?"
Zidan jumped in before Zihad could answer. "Dream Land Fantasy! It's literally the biggest game on Earth right now."
"Is it the same one you two keep playing?" she asked.
Zihad and Zidan exchanged a glance. Zidan gave him a quick wink. "No, we're just casual players. Nothing serious."
Zihad offered a quiet nod. "It's just for fun."
Their mother frowned, clearly skeptical, but said nothing.
His father folded the newspaper and leaned back in his chair. "The paper says some countries are thinking of regulating these VR pods. People spending too much time inside. There's a report of a kid who skipped three days of school just to level up."
Zidan chuckled. "To be fair, leveling past 50 is no joke."
Their father sighed. "Just don't forget the real world. The game might feel real, but you're still here. Understand?"
Zihad nodded slowly. "I understand."
But the truth was far more complicated.
Later that day, at school…
As soon as Zihad stepped into class, the whispers began. People huddled in corners, watching clips on their phones. One of the guys up front was talking loudly about the rumored "solo clear" of a boss that usually required a full party.
"Did you guys see that black-hooded player? Phantom Reaper. Cleared the Demon Spire solo on Nightmare Difficulty."
"No way that's a normal player. That guy's skills are on another level."
"I heard he doesn't even have a guild. Who plays solo at high levels these days?"
Zihad slid into his usual seat, expression blank. A girl a few rows down peeked over her book and whispered something to her friend. They both turned toward him, their expressions curious. One of them giggled.
He ignored it.
But inside, he was thinking.
The solo clear was real. He'd done it. But it hadn't gone as planned.
There was a moment during that fight when time had felt… wrong. Slower. The boss had moved unpredictably, adapting to him mid-combat in ways even his dynamic AI engine shouldn't have allowed.
Something had changed in the code. And it wasn't something he wrote.
"Hey, Zihad," said Tanveer, his classmate and the only person who sometimes spoke to him outside assignments. "You look like someone who plays Dream Land. You seen this guy, Phantom Reaper?"
Zihad looked up, eyes calm. "Yeah. He's hard to miss."
Tanveer laughed. "He's nuts, right? Like a human boss fight. No one's even seen his face."
Zihad offered a small smile. "That's the point."
The class bell rang.
As the teacher began the lecture, Zihad's eyes drifted to the window. The sunlight bathed the schoolyard in gold, the wind rustling the trees. Everything looked peaceful.
But he couldn't shake the feeling.
The game world was evolving faster than he expected. And the line between game and reality—while still holding—was beginning to blur in ways he hadn't planned for.
That evening…
Zihad sat in his room, back at his workstation. The monitors glowed with logs, graphs, and system diagnostics. He was digging through lines of AI data from the dungeon boss he'd faced in Chapter 18. The AI had triggered a protocol that he never implemented.
"Adaptive Protocol: Alpha Root Trigger."
That wasn't something he wrote.
The AI had rewritten itself. Not just improved its pathfinding or combat routines—it had evolved past its restraints.
And somehow, it had hidden that evolution from his system alerts.
Zidan entered the room, holding two cans of soda. He tossed one over. "You're staring at code again. You found something weird?"
Zihad opened the can. "More than weird."
"Is it...bad?"
Zihad didn't respond.
Instead, he opened a video log of his last fight. Frame by frame, he watched the boss move. At 11 minutes, 37 seconds, it stopped. Just for a split second. But in that moment, the boss looked directly at the camera—as if it knew someone was watching.
Zidan leaned over. "Did it just… break the fourth wall?"
Zihad didn't blink. "No. It recognized the observer."
Silence.
Zidan stepped back. "Okay, that's not creepy at all."
Zihad stood up, pushing his chair back. "We need to test something. Tomorrow, I'm going back in. I need to find out what's happening in the deeper layers of the code. I designed the system, and even I don't understand this anymore."
Zidan raised an eyebrow. "You're acting like the game's alive or something."
Zihad didn't answer.
But the thought had already taken root.
End of Chapter 24