The policeman opened the door and pointed to the chair.
- Sit down. We'll start soon.
Nix nodded silently and walked inside. The room was lit by a dim lamp under the ceiling, on the table was a tape recorder, a folder with papers and a plastic cup of water. He sank into a chair, feeling how the tension of the street began to ease, but at the same time fatigue set in.
He leaned back, looking at the wall opposite him - white, dull, slightly shabby. There could be a camera behind it, or just emptiness. Nix knew - everything here was being recorded, every word, every gesture.
"I wonder if they saw me take out two of them?" flashed through his mind. He instinctively ran his finger down his arm, as if checking to see if there was a mark left from the recent fight.
"I hope they don't start asking too many questions…" he muttered under his breath, looking at the door behind which the policeman remained.
He knew he had done the right thing. But right doesn't always mean easy.
Nix crossed his arms over his chest, trying to calm himself. He could feel his muscles still trembling inside him, not from fear, but from an excess of energy, from a readiness for battle that had not yet died down after the recent clash. Strikes, dodges, instincts – all of it worked as if he were still in a dungeon. Only instead of monsters, there were ordinary people. But was there much of a difference?
He looked up at the ceiling and exhaled again.
— I wonder... if the system gave me a task, and I chose it, does that mean that now it will interfere with life outside the portals? Or will everything start to change?
The door creaked. Footsteps were heard behind it.
- Okay, Nix. Don't panic. Are you a player or what?
He straightened his shoulders and prepared to speak.
There was a knock on the door, not hard, more formally, and it immediately opened. A middle-aged man entered, wearing a formal suit, with a badge on his chest: "Detective Howell." He had attentive eyes and the face of a man who had seen a lot, and understood even more than he said.
- Nix Kaiser? - The voice was calm, almost friendly. - We're quick, just a formality. You don't mind if we record the conversation, do you?
Nix nodded.
- Do what you have to do. I don't mind.
The detective sat down opposite, put a folder on the table and turned on the voice recorder.
- So, you claim that you heard a woman scream and came to help?
"I'm not saying so. That's how it was," Nix said briefly, maintaining his calm.
— Did you know the victim?
- No. I saw her for the first time.
- What prompted you to intervene? Such situations can be dangerous. Especially at night.
Nix narrowed his eyes slightly. The question was simple, but he caught the subtext behind it. Testing his reaction. He chuckled to himself.
- Probably a habit. I see that help is needed - I act. Isn't that how it should be?
Howell nodded as if in agreement, but his eyes didn't blink once.
- One of the attackers was armed with a folding knife. Didn't you think twice?
Nix shrugged.
- I didn't have time. Everything happened quickly.
The detective made a note and looked up from his papers for a second.
- There's just one strange thing, Mr. Kaiser. You moved very... precisely. As if you knew what you were doing. Do you have experience?
"Yes, I did martial arts. A little. And... I run in the mornings," he added with a slight grin.
Howell chuckled, not looking away.
- Well then. It looks like that's it. The victim has given evidence, your actions have been confirmed. There's no reason to keep you here.
He turned off the recorder and stood up.
— I hope you don't mind if we contact you if we have any further questions?
"Of course," Nix nodded, standing up.
"And Kaiser..." Howell paused in the doorway. "Sometimes doing too much right can raise questions, too. Especially if you don't look like a hero."
He left, and Nix was left in silence, feeling the air in the room become a little lighter.
He exhaled.
"So now I'm not only a 'Player', but also an 'attentive citizen,'" he muttered. "Great. If only I didn't get caught, it would be a real treat."
He left the room, and with it the station. The night on the streets of New York was not over yet.
The next day
The next morning greeted Nix with a faint light coming through the curtained window. He slowly opened his eyes, letting his body lie in silence for a few more seconds. His muscles responded with a slight ache - a reminder of yesterday's fight, of the dungeon... and of reality, which had become too much like a game.
He stood up, stretched, twisted his neck - the vertebrae cracked. Then, out of habit, he sank to the floor and began his morning warm-up. Push-ups, crunches, squats - not for the sake of physical fitness, but to maintain control. After the dungeons, his body seemed to demand movement. Adrenaline, it seemed, had become part of his morning coffee.
When he finished his exercises, he headed for the shower. Hot water ran down his body, washing away the remnants of sleep and worry. For a few minutes, Nix allowed himself to just stand there, staring at the tiled wall, feeling thought after thought float away with the steam.
After turning off the water, he dried himself and, putting a towel over his shoulders, went to the mirror.
The steam slowly subsided, revealing a reflection. The thin haze made his features seem almost ghostly. His black, slightly tousled hair fell in uneven strands across his forehead, emphasizing the paleness of his skin and the stern features of his face. High cheekbones, a sharp chin - a silhouette carved from marble. But most of all, it was the gaze that caught his attention.
Deep, dark eyes with a slight violet glint, as if the shadow of the dungeon itself was reflected in them. Calm, but tense, like a taut bowstring. There was no more naivety in them. Only experience. Only choice.
On the body there were dried traces of yesterday's fight: light scratches, a bruise on the ribs, a dark mark on the shoulder. But even this did not spoil the image - on the contrary, it made it real. Seasoned. Genuine.
He looked at his reflection longer than usual. The silence of the bathroom seemed to freeze with him.
There was no doubt in that look. Only an understanding of what he had already gone through and what was yet to come.
The dungeons, the fight, the blood, the system… All of it had become a part of him. The human face in the mirror no longer seemed normal. It belonged to the one who had returned. The one who had survived. The one who had become stronger.
He ran his hand over his cheek, feeling the uneven stubble, and quietly said to himself:
- You've changed, Nix. And now there's no turning back.
He pulled on a T-shirt and walked into the room.
The room was furnished enough: a spacious but modest bed with a dark bedspread that had already begun to show signs of a night's rest. Opposite the bed stood a television, a modern, flat-screen TV that was more like a window into another world than just a means of viewing. Next to it, on a small nightstand, stood a telephone - the same one that Nix had been using lately to communicate with the outside world. It was simple but reliable, with a few scuffs on the sides, but still fulfilling its function.
The room itself left a feeling of simplicity and coziness, as if everything here was in its place, although without excessive fanaticism. He thought for a moment:
"It's time to clean up here. And with this inventory... it's better to keep all the most suspicious things to yourself, but out of sight."
Nix looked around his room and decided it was time to tidy up. He looked through his inventory and began sorting through the contents. His attention was drawn to several odd objects that clearly shouldn't have been left out in the open.
The first thing he took out was a plastic hammer. Its origin was unknown, but Nix knew it could be an important tool or even a key to solving future problems. He hid it in a drawer, not wanting to leave any unnecessary questions.
Next, he found a dirty talisman in his hands, another mystery from his inventory. He didn't know what it could be used for, but he knew for sure that it shouldn't be thrown out in plain sight. The talisman went into the same box, hidden among other things.
The shaman's staff, one of the more valuable items, did not go unnoticed. Nix knew it might be needed, but he was not yet sure for what purpose. He carefully placed it on the shelf, away from prying eyes.
Finally, the magic scroll he had never used was the last on the list. It was an important artifact and should not be left in plain sight either. Nix wrapped the scroll in cloth and carefully placed it in the closet, out of sight.
Nix thought for a moment, examining the low-grade beast's meat. It clearly didn't need to be stored in a box under the bed, but rather in a cooler place. He picked it up and headed to the kitchen, where there was plenty of room in the refrigerator. Carefully placing the meat in one of the shelves, he felt that at least this item would now be kept in safe conditions.
When he returned to his room, all he had left was the herbal infusion. He carefully placed it in his desk drawer. Nix knew that the item might be useful later, perhaps for healing or recovery, so it was best to keep it safe and close at hand.
The room did seem empty now, but it was also orderly and safe. Everything was in its place, and Nix felt prepared for whatever challenges the next day might bring. His phone suddenly rang, and Nix, a little surprised, pulled it out of his pocket. He glanced at the screen, and it was the company number, RexTech Logistics. Nix sighed and answered, unsure of what was coming.
"Hello, Nix," came a stern voice on the other end of the line. "This is Anna from RexTech's HR department."
Nix felt his relaxed mood instantly change to wariness. He hadn't been paying attention to his work lately, as his attention had been occupied with other matters. Training, dungeons... The time spent outside of his normal life was now beginning to bear fruit.
"Yes, I'm listening," he replied, trying not to show his concern.
— We tried to contact you, but you did not get in touch. You missed shifts, did not warn. In this regard, we are forced to inform you that your position in the company is no longer relevant. You are fired.
Nix froze. It was clear. He had lost his job.
"I understand," he said, trying to collect his thoughts. "Well, thank you for everything."
The phone went silent again, but Nix's head was buzzing. He stood in the middle of the room, aware that another piece of his normal life was gone. The work he had once accepted as an integral part of his daily life was now part of the past.
Nix stood by the window, leaning on the sill. His gaze wandered over the streets, but his thoughts were far away, in the past. He remembered how his predecessor had once been full of ambition, how he had taken part in projects at RexTech Logistics, how he had immersed himself in work, considering it an integral part of his life. There had been a time when this company had seemed to him the future, stability, a place where he could develop.
But now it seemed distant, almost alien. The system, the dungeons, the new skills, the challenges—all of it had replaced the familiar world. Was it a loss or a liberation? He didn't know. But the sensations were mixed. Work life, with its routine and restrictions, now seemed outdated.
Nix thought about his predecessors, those who had worked at RexTech before him. Maybe they, like him, believed that their future was here, that this company was their path. Or maybe they had left in time, without getting caught up in the illusions. Either way, he was no longer a part of this world.
As soon as Nix put his phone down, a translucent window popped into his field of vision:
[SYSTEM: Instability detected in social sphere]
[New Task: Find a Source of Income. Status: Active]
Recommendations: Use past skills and professional experience.
He squinted at the notification. It wasn't exactly a surprise—the system was always one step ahead. But the phrase "use past skills" made him smile.
"Well, of course…" he drawled, walking around the room. "It's funny that you, System, suddenly remembered who I was before all this devilry."
Nix once worked at top game studios. He was a game designer and technical consultant: he helped develop missions for GTA V at Rockstar North, thought through game mechanics for Minecraft at Mojang, and consulted for independent studios on narrative design and balance. His resume would impress any HR person — if only he wanted to join the old system again.
He remembered the endless hours spent on scripts, code, documents. Interface design, mechanics edits, late-night Zoom meetings. It all felt like another life.
- Hmm... games. I created worlds - now I live in one. Funny.
- Maybe it's time to take matters into our own hands again. Only now - according to new rules.
The system seemed to understand this too, because another notification came next:
[Additional: Alternatively, create your own project or register as a free Specialist Player.]
Reward: +100 exp, $5000
Nix stared at the notification, his eyebrows rising in surprise.
[Reward: +100 exp, $5000 for completing the alternative route. Accept?]
He didn't immediately understand what impressed him more - the fact of the cash bonus itself or how the system quickly adapts to his life circumstances. This is no longer just gamification - it's almost like a personal assistant ... but with a touch of unpredictable AI.
"Five thousand bucks," he repeated out loud, slowly sitting down in the chair. "Well, system, you know how to motivate."
He confirmed the task, and immediately the following flashed on the screen:
[The task has been accepted.]
He felt a slight surge of energy, as if even the system physically encouraged his decision.
"Okay. Since I'm going down the path of the creator… why not start simple," he muttered.
— Minecraft.