Level Zero

"What the fuck? Who did that?"

"What the hell, dude!"

"Are you a noob, you bloody idiot? Attack the other team!"

"Shit for brains, drop your fucking weapon."

"What do we do? He's not listening!"

"we've lost over half our XP, you fag, stop it!"

The black haired boy grinned ominously, leaving as fast as it came. Such comments only fuelled him even more; he wanted more bloodshed, more death, more money. More, more, more. It was just too easy, too simple. With a few hours of 'working', killing, and playing, he made money. Hard, cold cash. That being said, he unsheathed his blade, stabbing his 'teammates' to death, watching the blood gush out from their once in-tact stomachs. It oozed, stretching outwards touching his armoured feet, and he just lightly kicked it. A splash here, a slpash there. As if playing in a puddle of rain. Another one tried to attack, and that's another one who failed miserably. A simple flick of his sword was all that was needed to lob his head off. A clean cut, right through the bone. He fell onto his knees, green health bar glowing an angry red. All health was lost in his team, and he remained the only player with one hundred, all green, untainted. His level jumped to one hundred and six, whilst he watched his 'team's' level plummet.

Too easy.

"You're fucking out of this clan, just you wait!"

Never once turning his mic setting on, he moved in silence, like a reaper. Kill in, kill out. It doesn't matter who, what, where, when. So long as he is in this world, he will build his own thrown, all by himself. He doesn't need anyone. They were shifted back into the lobby, barely calm enough to function. Chuckling darkly, he simply walked past his now ex-clanmates. He swiped his fingers in a practised motion, opening the chat option. His thoughts materialised into a  a simple, blunt message that sent itself to the chat.

- Thanks for the easy kill.

A smirk etched on his face as he left the players dumbfounded, and beyond furious. He was irrefutably ecstatic, a new, yet familiar type of thrill exerting through his veins. Something he could never experience in the real world; his body was quite literally numb, only feeling pain from within. No single touch or grip ever triggered a reflex, anything.

He was just a boy trapped in a decaying body. The exhilarating supremacy was beyond everything he could've ever wanted, all handed to him in another dimension; the virtual world. He was powerful, dominant, and in control. It's amazing what anonymity and limitless power can do to a sweet boy like Erin. A crazed killer in one world, and a sickly frail, sweet boy in another.

This universe is terribly wide, ever expanding, or not expanding at all. So minor, we are. So minor, we may as not exist. But, we do. Humans are incredibly beautiful like that. We make nothing out of something. Give an intelligent species dirt and water, and they'll make wireless fidelity bluetooth devices out of it. Truly incredible. Where is it expanding into? The void? If so, Erin feels one with the universe. His consciousness devours all that is the abyss, the sheer state of nothingness, and makes it his own. Flawlessly. With blood, sweat, and tears, of course.

Man created a headset from dirt and water. Erin's void infilling mind expanded and scripted himself into the world accessible from this headset. What started as a bare scrap of land made up of 1s and 0s, became his own mini empire.

Glancing up at his money tag, it boosted by three hundred thousand Won. He smirked triumphantly, sheathing his blade again. Erin's story was an easy one. Join a clan, kill the clan, make money, and repeat. A cycle he would follow until his last breath, until he pays back his brother to the dime. He couldn't care less about himself; he lost his ability to care years ago, but his brother never once stopped. He worked himself to the bone, taking half a dozen part time jobs to make ends meet, to pay for Erin's treatment. Endless pleas begging him to stop working so hard went through his brother's ear, and out the other. No matter what Erin told him, his brother simply smiled passively, whispering a defiant 'no'.

Strolling towards his hideout, the clouds unveiled the moon. It glimmered and glowed, ethereal, even, but it would never match the beauty of it in real life. And that, was one of the only things Erin preferred about real life.

Why can't reality be what I want it to be? Why can't it be as free as this place?

Of course, Erin knew why. It was almost satisfying; satisfying hurting himself by asking the same question he knows the answer to, over, and over again. It was a simple answer. Because, the Cosmos had their favourites, and he wasn't one of them. The world is a cruel place, and he knew better than questioning his fate when it was already spelled out to him in blaring block capitals. He didn't know which he was more terrified of; inhaling the first breath, or exhaling the very last.

The view he had was beyond semantically mesmerising. A vast balcony stretched from one end of his peripheral vision to the other, with glittering balls of fire genuflecting to him. Multihued euphoria etched closer with every beam of light kissing his milky skin. It wasn't easy to afford such a place, but being a full time player certainly played its role efficiently.

Dematerialising his heavy weapon, he eyed his virtual reflection warily. Somewhere between average and tall, lean, not too thin, not too thick. Glowing skin, healthy looking. Everything Erin wasn't. His face and body frame was pretty much spot on. He never went out for anyone to recognise his avatar, so he didn't care if he looked identical to his character. A simple, baggy black button shirt clothed his torso, slacks accentuating his long legs. Dashes of silver lining accented his frame, paired with a red string tied around his pinkie. To anyone, it could mean being controlled, but to him, it meant being in control of his fate. Something he so desperately yearned for.

"Maybe I could raid the Battle Royale," he breathed to himself, knowing that those annual competitions made him money beyond what a poor boy like him could dare to imagine. All he had to do was kill and run, and he'd make money. Where is it coming from, you ask? He was a reviewer, you could say, a tester of some sort. He was paid to log in fourteen hours a day, find glitches, and review battles.

This technology was fairly new, so it paid well to the few people who were willing to test it and give up many hours of their day. Or, those rich enough could buy early access to the game. It's not something to be taken lightly at all; for all the creators know, this technology may be detrimental to the players' brains, but that's why it's being very unethically tested, but tested nonetheless.

Very morally grey indeed.

So, battles made money. But, of course, he found a slight loophole.

Killing your teammates is technically a battle, wouldn't you agree?

A distant voice beyond his virtual body echoed through his ears. "Erin, it's time to take your medicine!"

Pulling out the scroll from his virtually infinite pocket, he pressed settings and logged out. Eyes flinging open, all senses returned to his wiry body- the evergreen clinical scent, the metallic, tangy taste of blood in his mouth, never forgetting the dried, saline tears perching below his eyes. Pulling off the headset, he groaned lowly, barely able to turn his head to the chair beside him.

"Erin, you've played for two whole extra hours, and you never do anything else. Your body can't keep up with it," Gihyun frowned, unscrewing a bottle of pills.

He slowly turned his head in Gihyun's direction. "Hyunnie," he greeted tiredly, his smile a pale imitation of his once luminous grin, voice raspy with sickness. "It can't keep up with a lot of things, brother," Erin monotonously spoke, not a single change in his countenance. The endearing yawn of Rae brought about a fragment of a smile, barely strong enough to keep it on for even a little longer.

"Don't say things like that, or I'll take that headset away from you," Gihyun's frown deepened, as he handed a bottle of water and two pills to Erin.

"You wouldn't. Keeps me out of pain."

The headset was by far the best thing to ever happen to his mediocre life. A device so technologically advanced, that it connects to the neurons in your brain, and gives you a virtual body - everything real life has to offer, and more. But the biggest perk of all, when the headset is on, you can't feel anything in your real body. You prance around in the plains of virtual reality, feeling every gust of wind and smelling every glaze of honey, as your real body is as still as a rock until you log out. It's as good as it could ever get for him. No pain, all game; his own world, where he makes his own rules.

It's as if you transport bodies, worlds, morals. Everything was fair, everyone started the same, on level zero.

"Gihyun, you can't keep coming here every day. Go live an actual life," Erin pressed, guzzling the bottle of water down, before gulping the bitter pill.

"We've already been through this, and we're not going through it again."

Message received.

Gihyun absolutely does not want to talk about whatever might stem from Erin's statement. Fair. Understood. Erin dropped the subject reluctantly.

Rolling his eyes, Erin ignored the last sequence of events, bored of this conversation happening so often. "Check your bank, by the way. An extra three hundred thousand should be in there," Erin wearily smiled, happy he could help his beloved brother, even by the slightest bit.

"Oh, Rinnie. Save it for when you leave this place. You're gonna need stacks to fix your rancid appearance," Gihyun brightly jested, but anyone with two eyes could see the smile oozing with doubt. He didn't believe he would leave, and neither did his brother. A sudden prick stroke through his head like lightning, face contorting in pain. Wheezing slightly, Erin waved Gihyun off, reaching over for his beloved headset.

"I'm going to log on for a bit longer. My head stings."

With his eyes closed, Erin can pretend he's anywhere he wants to be. Inside of his mind, he's built an entire world for himself. He often imagined himself being on another planet. One that's close enough to overlook the Earth and watch it orbit the sun, but far enough that no one knows he's there. In his fantasies, there's a single house for him where he's happily alone.

Flicking on the headset before his reluctant brother spoke, he exhaled, feeling the aches scattered across his body dissolve, eyes open to his familiar surroundings. He flexed his fingers, almost feeling eerily real. Though, Erin doesn't quite remember what 'real' felt like. The night was still young, and so embarked on a journey to the lobby from his hideout. He ran with the high stamina score he had, just barely allowing him to run three miles without fatigue, reaching his checkpoint.

A leisurely jog later, he reached the launchpad. He skimmed past all the teams that had entered for the Battle Royale, eyebrows knitting in slight concern. He won last year's, piece of cake. But, that was when there were only about four teams of six. There were twenty eight teams. No wonder, the game surged in popularity in the last year, but now he was rendered helpless. It was half a task to take out over twenty people, but over one hundred and fifty?

So, that only meant one thing. He had to team. Merely thinking about it made Erin's skin crawl, let alone do it. He shook his head, and ignored such thoughts. He needed every single penny to himself. He needed to go solo. His cocky attitude dissipated to one of hopelessness. He may arguably be the best player on this game, but he wasn't foolish. He could only take on so many people at once. Even then, no one would team with him willingly or without ulterior motives.

Holding his breath, he closed his eyes and signed himself as a solo player hurriedly, before he regretted his choice. Exhaling a puff of air, he glared at the board. The damage has been done now.

He was suffocating in the clutches of reality, but breathed the soulful rhythm of sovereignty in his world. To win, he needed to see red. A royal, rich red.

He fondly gawked at the starry sky, eyes landing on the Moon.

"Wish me luck, Mr Blue."