Huff huff
Heavy breathing echoed through the damp, foul-smelling alleyway.
A man in a highly futuristic outfit, adorned with mechanical-looking details, stood there. His face was terrifying, but the sweat dripping down his forehead told another story.
"Shit, shit, shit!!!"
He had been making a fortune, selling loads of illegal drugs, climbing his way up the ranks.
And now… now!!
"Who the hell put a bounty on my head?! I swear, if I survive this, I'll get my revenge!!!"
Bang!
A streetlight shattered, plunging the alley into darkness.
"Fuck!"
His eyes glowed, adjusting to night vision. Unfortunately, his tech was outdated, meaning his vision wasn't perfect.
But at least he could see one thing—
The eyes of the hunter.
"!!!"
He jolted, his arms shifting as gun barrels emerged.
BANG!
Bullets tore through the air, but the figure moved effortlessly, dodging them.
Boom!!
A stray bullet hit a gas tank, igniting an explosion that illuminated the entire alley.
And in that moment, he saw him clearly—
A young man with short black hair flowing in the wind, glowing red eyes, a high-tech gas mask, and a sleek black outfit.
So damn edgy…
"…So young, yet you've taken so many lives," he muttered, reaching for something behind his back.
But before he could react, the young man fired a glock, landing a perfect shot into his gun barrel.
BOOM!
His arm exploded.
"AGHH!!"
Clutching his ruined limb, he frantically pulled out grenades and hurled them at his attacker, then triggered them with an electric pulse.
BOOM!!
A massive explosion rocked the alley.
He seized the moment to escape.
Run. Keep running until his lungs burned.
Finally, he stumbled out of the alley, gasping for air, and flagged down a taxi.
"Phew…"
"Hey, man, you okay?" the driver asked.
"I suggest you don't ask questions unless you want today to be your last," he threatened, glaring at the driver.
The driver fell silent, gripping the wheel tighter.
He checked his ruined arm, then detached it and replaced it with a fresh cybernetic limb.
"Finally… I made it out alive."
But before he could take a breath, he caught something in the rearview mirror—
Someone clinging to the back of the taxi.
"!!"
He raised his arm and fired wildly.
The figure leaped onto the roof. He kept firing.
The driver panicked, swerving violently.
After emptying several rounds, the figure was gone.
"Hah… hah… Where is he?"
He looked around—something felt off.
Where was the driver??
The taxi door was open. The steering wheel spun wildly.
"Oh, fuck."
CRASH!
The taxi slammed into a streetlight.
He struggled to crawl out, only to see the hunter's boots standing before him.
Looking to the side, he saw the driver unconscious—but alive.
"…Wow. Instead of blowing up the car and killing us both, you actually saved him? I fucking hate hypocrites like you," he sneered, hoping to piss the hunter off.
But the man stayed silent, crouching down.
His gas mask shifted, retracting to reveal scarred lips.
"I'd rather be a hypocrite than someone with morals who never does shit."
The wounded man looked up. The hunter wasn't angry.
He just… didn't care who he was.
A glock barrel pressed against his forehead, still hot from the previous shots.
"…Fuck you."
Bang!
Ding ding!
His phone vibrated—confirmation that the money had been transferred into his account.
He didn't even glance at it. His gas mask covered his mouth as he quickly left the scene.
He walked to a secluded area, a place no one ever visited, littered with trash. Removing his jacket, he revealed a tank top underneath.
Pulling out his phone, he checked his balance.
$1,200 had been added to Ezren's account.
"Just enough to upgrade some essential gear."
He made a call, relaying some information before putting his jacket back on. Then, he scrolled through his phone, checking bounties and their corresponding rewards.
Ezren was a bounty hunter. He had been in the business for eight years.
Eight years of staining his hands with the blood of countless targets.
Why did he do this? There wasn't much to it—he needed money to support his younger siblings back in Slum District 8.
Yes, he was the eldest in a poor family. His parents? Nowhere to be found. He had to make a living through murder just to survive.
The risks of this job were enormous—failure meant death, success meant the constant threat of revenge.
That's why his goal was simple: make enough money to quit, take his siblings, and leave the slums for a better place.
If he died before that happened, so be it. His second-youngest sibling knew the password to his account, and he trusted them.
Ezren sighed, staring at his body.
In a world where cybernetic augmentation was the norm, he remained… human.
Unlike most people, whose flesh had long been replaced by machinery, he still had skin and blood.
He didn't know why, but the thought of replacing his body with metal and wires made him feel like he wouldn't be himself anymore.
So instead of relying on implants, he depended on high-tech equipment that didn't require him to sacrifice his humanity.
It wasn't as powerful as cybernetic enhancements, but it was better than nothing.
Besides, his siblings would never want to see him turn into a soulless machine.
After scanning through the bounty list, he finally picked a target—a $1,000 reward.
He began preparing, checking his gear for any malfunctions.
One mistake, and his body would end up rotting in a corpse dump.
Just as he was getting ready, he noticed a strange light behind him.
Ezren immediately pulled out his Glock, aiming at the source, staying as cautious as possible.
The light began forming geometric shapes, arranging themselves into something vaguely human.
Then, in an instant, the light faded—
And a young man appeared.
"...?"
Technology these days was insane. Since when could it teleport people? Or… create them?
Ezren observed carefully as the young man looked around—
Then suddenly shouted:
"THIS LOOKS AMAZING!!!"
"...?"
"OH MY GOD! The details are insane! The trash, the smell, the abandoned buildings, the neon lights—this feels like an entirely different world!"
Ezren quickly took cover behind a wall, silently watching.
'What the hell is he talking about? Has he never seen a place like this before?'
"This is incredible! Totally worth the money I spent on this game!"
Game?
What the hell did he mean by "game"?
Before Ezren could process it, more lights appeared behind the man.
And from them—people began emerging.
Different ages, different builds, different appearances.
From towering muscle-bound figures to scrawny kids.
"...What the actual hell?" Ezren muttered, sweat dripping down his face.
That was the first time he had ever encountered them— the outsiders.
Or as they called themselves—
Players.