Lord of Solva: Players as My Pawns

Darkness.

It wasn't sleep. It wasn't death. It was something worse—a void without end, without form, without time. Thought barely existed, fractured into drifting shards, each one slipping away before it could fully form. Then—

[System Initialization Complete.]

[Assigning Administrator Privileges…]

A jolt shot through his body, like lightning crawling under his skin. His mind snapped back.

A sharp gasp tore from his throat as his eyes flew open. His lungs burned as if he had been drowning, just now breaking the surface. But—this wasn't his room. No ceiling, no bed, no lingering warmth of a world he understood.

Instead, he stood in a vast emptiness. A field of flat, colorless ground stretched to infinity, meeting a sky that wasn't a sky at all—just a swirling gray haze, shifting like storm clouds without wind. The air was thick, stagnant, pressing against his skin as if the world itself had weight.

His heart pounded.

"Where… am I?" His voice sounded weak, swallowed by the silence.

Then, the cold, mechanical voice echoed in his skull.

[Welcome, Administrator.]

[This world is yours to govern.]

[Universe Threat Detected: @#$%###.]

The words dug into his brain like hooks. Administrator? Virus? What the hell was this?

His pulse hammered as he took a shaky step forward. The ground felt solid but… wrong. Like something unfinished, a place half-made, lacking the essence of reality.

"This isn't real. This has to be a dream." He muttered it, half hoping the thought would make it true.

But the system didn't care. It kept feeding him information.

A virus. No, something worse—a force that devoured universes. The Papyrus Virus, a corrupting entity that erased civilizations, leaving behind nothing. And he… he had been chosen. Given a world, the last defense against annihilation.

A slow, creeping horror curled in his gut.

"I'm not supposed to be here."

Growl.

The sound slithered through the silence. Low. Wet. Wrong.

His breath hitched. He turned.

The ground split apart.

They came out of nothing.

Twisted forms dragged themselves from the cracks in reality, grotesque and unfinished, like broken sketches of monsters that had been abandoned before completion. Their flesh flickered, shifting between solid and something else. Their limbs—too long, too many. Eyes that weren't eyes. Bone-forged claws, dripping with something that wasn't blood.

His stomach dropped.

Then—they moved.

The creatures lunged.

Panic hit like ice in his veins. He ran.

[WARNING: #$%@$ Entities Detected.]

[Survival Rate: 12%.]

"Twelve percent?!"

A screech cut through the air. A shadow slammed into him from the side.

Pain exploded across his ribs as he crashed onto the ground. His lungs emptied in a sharp gasp. Claws raked across his shoulder, burning cold, wrong. Not just pain—something deeper. A sickness, spreading.

He roared and swung a fist. His knuckles struck something wet and pulsating. The creature barely flinched.

They were closing in. Too many. Too fast.

Instinct took over. He fought. Kick. Punch. Twist. Every motion felt sluggish, as if the air itself resisted him. His body was losing.

A clawed hand lashed out—caught his arm—wrenched. His vision blurred with pain. He couldn't keep up.

The system cut through the chaos.

[Emergency Combat Assistance Activated.]

A click.

Then—power surged through him. His body moved on its own. Faster. Stronger. His strikes snapped with precision, his reflexes sharpened to something beyond human. Every dodge was perfect. Every counter was lethal.

For a brief moment, he felt unstoppable.

Then—

[Warning: Energy Levels Critical.]

[0.5% Remaining.]

His body locked up.

The power vanished as suddenly as it came. His limbs turned to stone.

A monster's claw found his side.

Pain. White-hot. Real.

He staggered, breath ragged. The creatures pressed in, their forms shifting, multiplying. He was out of time. Out of options.

"Think, dammit!"

The system responded.

[Administrator Emergency Protocols Initiated.]

[Teleporting to Safe Zone…]