The round was nearing its end. The other survivors had fallen—glitched out, terminated, or worse—leaving only you alive.

Alone... except for the killer.

Except for him—1x1x1x1.

You fumbled with the teleport command in your GUI, fingers trembling as the interface lagged, freezing, buffering in those agonizing, torturously long seconds. Every second stretched like static—sharp, endless, loud in the silence.

"Oi, oi!"

Shit. One of his minions.

A jagged hand slammed around your neck, dragging you back in a crushing headlock. The GUI flickered, then blinked out completely. Useless.

You thrashed, adrenaline flooding in—but it was no use. The minion, distorted and hulking, hauled you through glitching shadows, straight toward him.

Toward 1x1x1x1.

He stood there like a living error, white hair flowing like slow smoke, his one red eye glaring from the darkness of his face. The flames around his body licked the ground like hungry serpents.

"Why are you running from me?"

His voice was low, warped, like audio filtered through broken speakers—distorted but clear, laced with something dangerous... and familiar.

With a casual snap of his fingers, the minion vanished into static. Now, it was just the two of you.

You stood unsteadily, eyes darting, heart racing. You forced a nervous smile. Awkward. Fragile.

1x1x1x1 tilted his head slightly, expression unreadable behind the shadows of his face. His glowing eye narrowed. The flames pulsed.

Then—quietly, almost hurt—he spoke again.

"Are you mad at me?"