Chapter 1The Glitch That Deletes Gods

The finale of the horror simulation concluded, and I was one Shade short.

As the Warden of this place, I sealed the exits instantly, trapping all five hundred players inside the final chamber.

"A Shade has escaped its programming," my voice boomed through the hall, metallic and devoid of warmth. "If it breaks containment, the entire system initiates a Purge Protocol. Myself, and the other two thousand Shades bound to this simulation, will be deleted."

I let the silence hang for a beat, heavy and suffocating. "I'm giving you five minutes to find it. Or I'm cutting the oxygen."

A wave of pleas and denials crashed against my feet. Five hundred players, dropping to their knees.

"They don't have a label on their forehead! How are we supposed to know?" one of them yelled, his voice cracking with panic. "Maybe you just miscounted!"

"Let us go! We're innocent!" another cried.

Innocent?

A bitter, silent laugh echoed in the cavern of my chest. I twisted the master valve, and the hiss of the life support system died. "It seems your loyalty is worth more than your lives."

I knew. The rogue Shade was hiding among them, wearing a player's face.

And every single one of them was in on it.

* * *

The moment the air stopped circulating, the chamber descended into madness.

"We told you, we don't know anything! Are you trying to kill us all?"

"Don't forget the rules, Warden! Every game has a minimum survival quota. If we all die, you go down with us!"

They were right, of course. If the survival rate dropped below the mandated threshold, the final deletion would be me, the master program. The big boss.

But compared to the agony of a System Purge—a slow, digital unraveling—a quick death was a mercy.

Seconds bled into minutes. Players were already clutching their chests, their faces turning pale.

Lank, the long-tongued Shade who served as my lieutenant, materialized beside me. His whisper was a dry rasp. "Warden... they look like they're telling the truth. Are you certain you didn't make a mistake?"

Impossible. I had presided over this Purgatory from its inception, for centuries of simulated time. I knew the count of my charges better than I knew my own code.

"Please... my baby," a woman sobbed, crawling forward. "He's just a child."

This one had been duped into the game by her husband, desperate for the ten-million-dollar prize.

I signaled to Lank. He snatched the infant from her arms, and the baby’s terrified wail pierced the rising panic.

"You monster! Give me back my son!"

She scrambled on the floor, her eyes darting wildly, scanning the faces around her. "You! Are you the one? Are you the Shade?"

"What the hell? I'm a player, you psycho!"

She accused one after another, receiving the same denials until her spirit finally shattered. She collapsed, her sobs raw and animalistic.

Her crying was grating on my last nerve. I strode forward and my palm cracked across her cheek, silencing her. "One more sound, and I snap his neck right now."

Her eyes, wide with terror, locked onto the child in my grasp. She choked back her tears, her body trembling with the effort.

"Picking on a baby doesn't make you tough!" someone shouted from the crowd.

"This is your failure of management, Warden! Why are you blaming us?"

The accusations flew from every corner, a chorus of condemnation. But not one of them offered a single clue.

I lifted the screaming infant into the air. "You have five minutes. If you don't give me the Shade, this child dies. After that, I will kill one player every sixty seconds."

I knew. Every last player in this room was protecting the missing Shade.

Including his mother.

"Warden," Gallows, my headless enforcer, muttered from behind me. "The hall's reserve oxygen will only last another thirty minutes. If they still refuse to talk..."

"Then we all die together," I said, my gaze fixed on the child in my hands. His tiny body had gone limp, sleeping in my grip. For a fleeting moment, my fingers twitched with the urge to simply squeeze.

Centuries. I had played this part for centuries, and I was so incredibly tired. An ending like this didn't seem like a threat. It felt like a release.

"Still no one wants to be honest?"

Lank and Gallows kept their heads bowed, fearing my temper.

I walked back to the mother, my voice dropping to a somber, final tone. "I regret to inform you that you failed to provide the required information in the allotted time. Therefore, this child's life is forfeit."

Before the words had fully settled, I acted. I didn't kill the child. Not yet. But the message was sent, painted in crimson on the faces of the nearest players. He was left with the barest thread of life.

"You... you'll burn in hell for this!" the mother shrieked.

Funny. For me, that was the equivalent of wishing me a long life.

"Well? Ready to give up the Shade now?"

She lifted her head, her eyes burning with a hatred so pure it was almost beautiful. "Spit. You demon. You will never find him."

Ah. So that’s how it would be.

"He's yours," I said, dropping the bleeding child into Lank's waiting arms. His jaw went slack, a line of saliva tracing a path down his chin. He stared at the infant like it was a feast.

The game has rules. One of the most important is this: A player consumed by a Shade is erased from existence. No afterlife, no respawn. Just… nothing.

The mother knew the rule. The defiance in her eyes dissolved into sheer, primal terror.

"I'll talk," she sobbed, breaking completely. "I'll talk."