God of Video Games

When he woke up, Malone suddenly realized that he was no longer in his own bed. He was still wearing his pajamas, but somehow he was already standing, and the floor beneath his feet wasn't the one in his bedroom.

Malone looked around. Everything was white—the floor, the walls. The whole room looked like something... unreal.

"What the hell is this place?" Malone looked up at the ceiling. It was just as white as everything else. Only now did he understand what had felt strange when he'd first woken up. The ceiling in his own home was white too, but it had grown much darker over the years and was covered in stains.

"Hey, is anyone there? Where am I?" Malone put on his slippers. For some reason, they'd been left neatly beside the bed. He walked around the seemingly spotless floor, searching for an explanation.

After a long search, Malone discovered that the room, which was only a dozen square meters or so, had neither a door nor a window. He had no idea how he'd ended up there, or who had brought him.

Just then, a man dressed in white appeared out of thin air in front of Malone. He floated in the air, wearing a long robe that looked like a lab coat.

What astonished Malone was that he could barely make out the man's features. It wasn't because Malone was nearsighted, or anything like that. Every time he looked at the man's face, it seemed as if the man had turned into someone else.

"I am the God of Video Games," the man said. His voice sounded... how to put it? Neither male nor female.

"Foolish mortal, do you know that you are guilty?" The man's voice continued to drift through the room—yes, drift. Though he was right in front of Malone, his voice seemed to come and go, sometimes near and sometimes far.

"Quit pretending to be some kind of mystic!" Malone froze for a moment, then quickly came to his senses and shouted, "You think floating in the air makes you a god? Hmph, I know your tricks. You're using wires, right? Or nylon thread? Let me see..."

"Foolish mortal, how dare you show disrespect to me!" The man seemed to grow angry. Then...

With a crack, a pale-blue bolt of lightning came from the sky—or rather, from the ceiling—and struck Malone on the head.

"Ah!" Malone screamed. He couldn't see the lightning, but it felt as though something had seared his entire body. A sharp, charred stench spread from his skin, and his insides churned as if they were about to come up through his throat.

He... he really seemed to...

Malone dropped to his knees and braced himself on the floor in front of him. He looked at his hands and saw that patches of skin had turned charcoal black.

Pain wracked his body, making him tremble all over. Whether the guy in front of him was really some kind of god or just a fraud, Malone didn't dare move again, afraid of suffering another shock.

"You will accept divine punishment for killing low-level characters," the man declared with absolute conviction.

"Killing low-level characters?" Malone let out a piglike howl.

"Enough chatter. I have other things to do, so let's begin your punishment." The man spoke as if to himself.

"Let me look at your file..." the man muttered. "Hmm, you're an orphan. How strange. You visit the orphanage where you grew up every week to see the teachers and children, and you even spend your own money buying gifts for them... Why would someone like you kill low-level characters? Is it really so appealing to pick on the weak? Humans truly are foolish creatures!"

"How do you know that?" Malone hadn't expected the other man to know everything about him.

In fact, as an orphan, Malone had suffered his share of bullying. He knew how awful it felt. In his everyday life, he looked down on people who bullied others. But in games, it was as though the darker side of human nature had been magnified without limit. Even Malone himself, who hated picking on the weak more than anything, had started doing it.

"Foolish mortal, your actions in games, killing low-level characters, have seriously harmed the development of the video game industry. They are also an act of bullying the weak. I now pronounce your punishment: I will send you to a world called Azeroth, where you will live as one of the weak and experience what it feels like to be crushed by the strong."

The God of Video Games announced Malone's punishment.

"W-what? Send me to Azeroth? Make me one of the weak, to be crushed by the strong? Are you kidding me?" Malone shouted.

Never mind whether this guy was telling the truth. If, by some chance, he was...

Malone didn't have much to hold on to in this world. Work was exhausting, and the pressure of everyday life was no small burden. But...

Azeroth wasn't a place where ordinary people could survive!

Malone knew a fair bit about the lore of the Warcraft games. He knew that someone like him, a wannabe shut-in who rarely exercised, wouldn't stand a chance there. Even soldiers from the U.S. Navy SEALs would just be easy prey for the locals!

Azeroth had many terrifying races. Orcs, Trolls, Tauren—those powerful warrior races were bad enough. Even the humans in Azeroth were said to be different from the humans on Earth, much taller and stronger.

And besides those ordinary races, Azeroth was a world of magic. There were also beings like the god standing in front of him.

"Wait, you can't send me there. Aren't you punishing me because I bullied the weak? Then what's the point of sending me to that world to be bullied by the strong? Do you think bullying the weak is right too? Why should I be punished, then?"

Malone spoke in one long breath.

At the critical moment, his usual philosophical reasoning seemed to save his life—at least half of it, since his words made the man hesitate.

"Interesting. You're not the first mortal I've punished this way, but you are the first to say that to me... The last mortal I punished... Hmm, let me think. What was it for? Oh, right. He used cheats in a game."

"When I sent him to another world, he was delighted. He told me he'd always wanted to experience a novel-like life in another world. But he died there in less than a day, apparently eaten by a few wild dogs..."

The man spoke casually about things that sounded utterly terrifying to Malone.

"But... since you put it that way, I'll make some changes. Watching you get slaughtered over and over without anything changing would be a little boring... So I'll grant you power, enough to let you grow incredibly strong. But be careful now that you have power. A friendly warning: Azeroth is the least welcoming world for people who've crossed over..."

The man's voice grew increasingly indistinct. No—that was Malone's own consciousness fading.