GMOD: Player From Sandbox to Sanity Break

[Hogun POV]

Never thought I'd see the day I'd be carrying a cockroach on my back.

And not just any cockroach—her.

I felt dirty. Emotionally. Existentially. The second this mission ended, I was taking the longest shower in the multiverse.

[W]: Hey! I feel you are thinking bad thoughts about me. Cut it out.

[Hogun]: Miss W the Cockroach, remind me again—why am I carrying you?

[W]: Oh, I don't know. Maybe because someone kicked me. Twice. In the most sacred of battle zones.

She groaned theatrically.

[W]: Walking's impossible. My legs are on strike. My dignity has filed a lawsuit. You owe me a ride.

[Hogun]: I regret nothing.

[W]: I swear, when I'm healed, I'm going to strangle you with your own spinal cord.

[Hogun]: You're assuming I'll let you live that long.

She laughed behind me—light, feral, unhinged.

[W]: That's the spirit. Carry on, general. And don't drop me. I bite.

[Hogun]: Is she always that crazy?

The soldiers that are with us looked at me, then nodded and continued walking.

[W]: This is boring. Hey, Hogun—sing or read us something.

I tilted my head, just slightly.

Was this cockroach seriously treating me like a car radio?

I was half a second from dropping her into a minefield… but she wasn't wrong. It was boring. And I still had some of Jodie's poems tucked away in the corners of my corrupted memory files.

So I took a deep breath, let the fire on my hands dim to flickers, and spoke.

[Hogun]: I've got something called "When the Gentle Breaks."

[W]: Then read it. Let's hear what your soul sounds like.

The soldiers nearby paused in their march, boots crunching against broken stone. Some leaned on weapons. Others crossed their arms.

[Hogun]: Demons run when the good man fights, Steel in hand, no joy, no spite. He asked for peace—they gave him war. Now hear his boots on the bloodstained floor. Three things wise men know to dread: Storming seas… and nights pitch-dead. But worse than waves or skies gone black— The calm man's wrath when hope turns back. He smiled once. Held the world from shattering. Now he's fired. And nothing matters. Push too hard, and kindness dies— You meet what's left behind his eyes. You cheer the hero, clean and bright, but flinch when he learns how to bite. And if he burns, don't ask him why— He lit the match with your last lie. To make a monster, steal his light. The name he whispered late at night. Take what made him human whole— And all that's left… is death on scroll. So run if you must, pray if you dare— But don't pretend you weren't aware. The devil's not the one you fear— It's the man who fought to keep you here.

Silence followed. Not the awkward kind. The heavy kind. The kind that settles in your lungs and doesn't leave.

No one clapped. No one laughed. Even the wind held its breath.

The soldiers didn't speak. They just… kept walking. Heavier boots. Heavier thoughts.

For once, W wasn't smiling. She muttered, low, almost unsure:

[W]: That was… impressive. Who wrote that? You don't exactly seem smart enough to put those words together.

[Hogun]: A friend did. He's long gone now.

W looked at him—really looked. The fire behind her eyes dimmed, just for a moment. Something old flickered in her expression. Familiarity, maybe. Memory.

[W]: Y'know... I feel like I've heard some of those lines before. Not all of it. Just... bits. Echoes. Weird, right? 

[Somewhere Else – Sarkaz Military Camp, Outer Kazdel]

Inside a dim, candle-lit command tent, a man with soft pink hair stood alone, staring at a half-burned book—its pages blackened at the edges, fragile with time. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes burned with a quiet, ancient purpose.

A Sarkaz soldier stepped inside, bowing slightly.

[Sarkaz Soldier 1]: Chief General, the Demonids are getting restless. They're asking when you'll fulfill what you promised them.

The man didn't look up. He gently closed the book.

[Pink-Haired Man]: Tell them I always keep my promises. Remind them they've been part of the Sarkaz race since the day the stars fell—a hundred years ago. Then give them a warning. I don't like being reminded of small things. 

[Sarkaz Soldier 1]: …Yes, General.

He turned quickly and exited the tent, tension lingering in his breath.

Outside, a group of fellow soldiers waited beneath a cracked stone archway, the night cold and bitter with desert wind.

[Sarkaz Soldier 2]: So? How'd it go? Did we finally get our rewards?

[Sarkaz Soldier 1]: No reward. We're delivering a message. To the Demonids.

[Sarkaz Soldier 3]: Tch. Better than being stuck here with inventory logs. Besides, they usually greet us with food and wine. "Hospitality of Brothers," they call it.

[Sarkaz Soldier 4]: Honestly? The Demonids joining us might be the best thing to happen to the Sarkaz in decades.

[Sarkaz Soldier 1]: Can't disagree. They came from the Outer Lands, sure, but they were treated like animals out there, When Columbia ran the genetic match tests and found they shared over 80% Sarkaz lineage, they were labeled as threats, Hunted, Cornered, And they fought like hell to get here, Until General Theresis took them in.

[Sarkaz Soldier 2]: Yeah, and don't forget, most of the other "Outer" races didn't have it that hard. They slipped into Terra easier than a knife in sand.

[Sarkaz Soldier 4]: Terra's lucky they joined us, Kazdel's stronger with them—no question.

They walked off into the night, their silhouettes merging with the mist.

Back in the tent, the pink-haired general stood in silence.

He gently placed the half-burned book back on his desk.

One page remained intact. Charred around the edges, but legible.

Two words stared back at him like a prophecy.

"Salvation Project."

His eyes narrowed, voice soft as a whisper—yet heavy as a verdict.

[Theresis]: Demons run when the good man fights.

[Back to Hogun and W]

The desert wind howled. The sky above was dark, stained by war-smoke and fractured stars. Hogun leaned against a broken column, arms crossed, expression unreadable behind his mask.

W sat on a cracked crate, casually spinning something metallic between her fingers.

Too casually.

It clicked with every revolution—definitely not a harmless trinket.

[Hogun]: Alright, W. Level with me. Where did you hide the bomb?

She didn't even flinch. Just raised a brow and tilted her head, grinning like a child caught mid-crime.

[W]: Which one?

[Hogun]:...Oh, for the love of sanity.

[W]: Come on, can't you take a joke?

[Hogun]: Is the joke the part where you may or may not have strapped multiple bombs to me? Or the part where your squad took two steps back and one drew a bow behind his back?

[W]: It's called a dramatic effect.

[Hogun]: It's called attempted homicide.

She rolled her eyes and tossed the clicking device into the air. Hogun flinched. One of the nearby Sarkaz soldiers dove for cover. The device landed harmlessly on W's lap.

[W]: Relax. That one's a dud. Probably.

[Hogun]: W. I swear—if I spontaneously combust in my sleep, I'm haunting you with terrible puns for eternity.

[W]: Worth it.

[Sarkaz Merc]: Uh, boss... should we still keep our distance or—?

[W]: Nah. If it explodes, it's his problem. Besides, I might have disarmed the main charge. Might.

I felt a vein throb in my forehead. I was done playing.

[Hogun]: Alright, W, tell me where the bomb is—now—or I'll show you something worse than death.

My voice dropped into something cold. Final.

She blinked.

For the first time… she actually looked nervous.

And then—red. Not from fear. From flustered confusion.

[W]: …H-Hey now, let's not get weird—

She tried crawling backward—dramatically, of course.

I grabbed her by the collar and yanked her to her feet.

[Hogun]: You put explosives on me, W.

[W]: Technically in you. Your cape's basically a war crime now.

[Hogun]: I swear to every cursed line of code in this world—where is it?

She hesitated. Smirked. Then—classic W.

[W]: In your a##.

I stared at her. She stared back. No one breathed.

Then I reached back, yanked off my cape, and threw it on the ground. A solid clank echoed as multiple metallic objects rolled out of the folds.

Grenades. Charges. Trip mines. A freaking drone mine shaped like a rubber duck.

[Hogun]: W.

[W]:...Surprise?

[Sarkaz Merc]: Holy crap, she turned him into a walking armory.

[Hogun]: You strapped six bombs and a tactical bird to me.

[W]: Technically seven. The duck counts as two.

I let out a slow breath.

Then looked W dead in the eyes.

[Hogun]: If I detonate, I'm taking you with me.

[W]: Awww, our first suicide pact. You're sweet.

[Sarkaz Merc]: Boss... look up. The stars—They're falling.

We all turned.

Lines of blue and white light streaked across the sky, falling like celestial spears. Each light was unique, twisted in shape and color, some flickering, some steady.

But a few caught my eye.

"SAM Bar." Light's old Titan. A massive hive of glowing, winged insects—bees the size of horses. And others… names I hadn't heard in a long time.

[Hogun]: How the hell is this happening? They were supposed to be in Ashold Citadel—under protection, locked down.

W turned slowly, eyes wide.

[W]: Wait. You… you recognize them?

Everyone was staring now.

[W]: Hogun… Do you know what those things are? Those… "others" from the sky?

[Hogun]: Yeah. I lived there. In Ashold Citadel. After the fall of Whiteveil.

There was a beat of silence.

Then chaos.

[W and the others]: YOU'RE AN OUTER?!

W grabbed her head like a jackpot slot machine just paid out in nuclear gold.

[W]: It all makes sense now— Your gear, your name, the way you fight… hell, your face. I can't believe it. A real Outer. Not a Demonid, not a myth, a general. A genuine article. I just struck gold.

Her grin turned feral.

[W]: If we get you to Theresa, this war could be over. No, if Theresis gets his hands on you… No one will be safe. Not even him. You're proof. You're power. Carry me. Now. Boys and girls—we're not sleeping tonight!

[Hogun]: Wait, backup. You said Demonids. How the hell are they here? And you said others, as in, there are more like me?

[W]: Questions later, survival now. If we're lucky, we'll reach someone who can explain everything in five hours.

I didn't argue. Just spawned a military cargo truck, yanked W into the shotgun seat, and hit the accelerator. The others piled in without hesitation.

[One Hour Later – Makeshift Outpost Perimeter]

We pulled up to a checkpoint built out of shattered metal and melted signs.

W hopped out and waved lazily.

[W]: Hey Ace—get me to Kal. Got an Outer in the passenger seat. Fresh out of legend.

A grizzled man stepped into view. Mid-forties, scarred, steel-eyed. His massive tower shield was strapped to his back.

Beside him stood something taller—a Dragonoid, armed with a ceremonial spear.

The moment he laid eyes on me, he fell to his knees.

[Dragonoid]: This one greets the former Silver Phoenix Lord Sniper!

Everything froze.

I blinked.

[Hogun]: What the actual f###. Aren't you… Aren't you the useless NPC we left guarding the library?

[Dragonoid]: This one is ashamed. This one… has lost the library.

I just stared at him.

Then slowly, quietly, I pulled out a bottle of venom extract from my inventory.

If this was still a game, I'd just respawn.

If this was real…

Then I've kicked a cockroach woman twice, survived a war zone, and now just met a legend-worshipping librarian lizard man.

Death sounds good.

I downed the whole bottle. It burned like acid.

And then the pain hit.

Like reality itself folded inward and slapped me across the soul. I blacked out before I could scream.

[Hogun]: Wow… Reality is painful.

"...You were never just a player, Hogun."

[Hogun]: Jodie...?"

Blackout.

[Extra: The Outer and the Native]

Within a wind-battered Sarkaz war camp, two men stood at the edge of the command ridge, gazing at the falling stars.

One had soft pink hair, armor trimmed with gold and iron. The other stood taller, skin the color of burnt blood, four obsidian horns curving back like a crown.

[Theresis]: That one there… is that the Sky City Lord's weapon? The one that crushed three investors in a single move?

[Elder Namco]: Yes, my lord. That is the same titan—the blessed one's war-golem. He last summoned it at Whiteveil. I recognize the wounds on its plating… scars from that very battle. It was forged by the Six Lords of Knowledge. The core? Tempered by Data, the bound blade of Lady Hast herself. But it should not be here. That is SAM Bar, SAM Bar was stationed in Ashold Citadel. Guarded. Sealed. Why has it fallen?

[Theresis]: Ashold Citadel? You've never told me of it.

[Namco]: A place at the edge of the known realms—built by those who survived the fall of Paradise. Ruled by Adam Von Flama, succeeded by his Second General… Hogun. Last of the Silver Phoenix.

[Theresis]: Hogun?

[Namco]: He goes by another name before. Sniper. You knew him for his designs—he's the mind who devised the blueprint of the Great Nodes that once connected the Outer Worlds to Whiteveil.

[Theresis]: The same man who created the bridges between realms… He lives?

[Namco]: He endures. And he is no longer just a tactician. He is a storm given form.

[Theresis]: Then these falling stars… they may be Outer artifacts, drawn here by him?

[Namco]: Perhaps. But tread carefully, my lord. The other Outers have surely noticed as well. And I,... I cannot promise I can hold back the Black Lion Emperor, or the Angel Lord, not this time. Even with our newfound allies—the Demonids, the Fallen, the remnants of the Black Banners—this may be beyond us.

[Theresis]: The Fallen serve my sister now. The Demonids? Cowards. They chose neutrality the moment peace demanded sacrifice. Forgotten, already, who saved them from the claws of Raven and Crow.

[Namco]: Forgive them, my lord. The Demonids are a people of fire and scars. They have known little peace… and too much war. As for the Black Banners, their neutrality is tactical. They guard the borders against Terra's hungry nations. Not out of loyalty, but calculation.

[Theresis]: Ninety years. And still, you bring me new truths.

[Namco]: My lord, I am ten thousand years old. Our time together is but a blink to me.

You have not yet heard a thousandth of what I've seen.

[Somewhere in Colombia]

A scholar-priest in flowing robes stood atop a jagged cliff, eyes locked on the sky ablaze with falling stars.

[Colombian Researcher]: By the light of Lady Hast, may knowledge illuminate our path. The heavens rain relics. The stars bring their gifts at last.

Behind him, an entire convoy of mechanized vehicles rumbled to life—scientists, soldiers, and opportunists ready to claim.

[Sargon – Jungle Outpost]

The chieftain's voice echoed across the canopy, loud and fierce as the war drums.

[Sargon Warlord]: Tonight, we ride through the meadows. The jungle bows to the sky. The gods throw bones from heaven—we claim what is rightfully ours!

His warriors roared in agreement, already painting their faces with sacred ash and storming toward the horizon.

[Laterano – Sky Dock]

A solemn congregation of gun-wielding clerics stood watching the skies through glowing lenses.

[Laterano Priest]: Brothers… it appears the Lord of Light still blesses us. His hand scatters holy steel upon the world. Ready the wings. We fly to reclaim what once was ours.

Cannons hummed. Engines flared. The Laterano airships took to the skies, righteous and prepared.

[Kjerag – Frozen Throne Room]

The cold winds howled across the Kjerag peaks as a woman stood from her throne of antlered silver.

[Kjerag Noble]: Ah… It's been too long since the sky served drinks. SAM Bar, you radiant beast—come to me.

She cracked her knuckles and pointed toward the stars like calling an old flame.

[Kjerag Soldier #1]: Just admit it, boss… You wanna sniff the Queen's chair. You've been crushing on her for the last 100 years.

[Kjerag Noble]: GO TO HELL, ALL OF YOU.

Her troops howled with laughter, even as they scrambled to load equipment onto sleds and gliders.

[Somewhere else]

[Light]: My head feels like it got hit by a bus... why am I in a library.

[Chapter End]