The Monster Gamers

The clearing breathed.

It shimmered with the rhythm of something ancient, unseen. The massive silver-black tree pulsed like a heartbeat, and the glowing plants below swayed without wind, whispering secrets to one another in a language only they understood.

Kim Jisoo stood in front of Haru, body tensed, sweat clinging to his brow and spine despite the chill in the air. His wounded arm throbbed under the gauze wrap, but he didn't move. He watched the shifting light at the edge of the clearing where something had stirred.

A branch cracked.

Then a low, guttural growl rolled through the trees like thunder caught in a cave.

From the thick underbrush, it emerged.

A beast—massive, feline in shape, yet wholly unnatural. Its body was sleek and muscular like a tiger's, but its fur shimmered with veins of dark blue light. Jagged scars and gashes ran across its flank and shoulders, some still raw, some crusted with dried black ichor. One of its hind legs dragged slightly, torn through at the muscle, but it stood tall. Proud.

Its eyes glowed. Not red. Not monstrous.

Silver. Cold. Human.

It padded forward, each step slow but deliberate, never breaking eye contact with Jisoo or the child behind him.

And then—

It spoke.

"Who are you?" the creature asked, its voice deep, ragged… but undeniably human. The sound rumbled from its chest like the grinding of old stones, laced with pain and clarity.

Haru gasped.

Jisoo didn't blink.

He stepped back slightly, bringing Haru further behind him.

"I could ask you the same," Jisoo replied carefully, his voice measured.

The creature tilted its head, tongue flicking out to taste the air.

"You're not like the others," it said slowly. "The twisted ones. Your minds haven't… folded."

Jisoo didn't speak.

His fingers hovered near the weapon pouch on his belt, but he didn't draw.

The creature sniffed once, and its gaze flicked to Haru. When it did, something in its body shifted—like tension uncoiling.

"The boy," the creature growled. "He's… connected."

Haru pressed himself against Jisoo's coat, peeking up at the beast with wide, watery eyes. "What… are you?"

The creature's eyes softened.

"I was once like you," it said. "Human. A scientist. A fool."

Jisoo's eyes narrowed. "Explain."

The beast took another step, but stumbled. Its damaged leg buckled for a moment before it caught itself. It sank slowly onto its belly, panting.

"There isn't much time," it said. "And I've lost too much blood to say everything. But listen, or you'll die like the rest."

Jisoo waited.

The creature's breathing was rough, each inhale sounding more painful than the last. Still, it continued.

"We tried to stop it. Years ago. When the stars began to… distort. Space started folding. We knew something was coming—something alive, intelligent, ancient. We called it 'The Dark Beyond.'"

Jisoo felt a chill pass through him.

He had read whispers of that phrase in old data leaks. Supposed myths. Discarded fringe science.

But this thing—this man in the shape of a beast—was speaking of it like memory.

"They offered a pact," the creature growled. "Power, survival, evolution. But only for those who let them in. Our bodies twisted. Our minds eroded. Some of us became monsters."

Its claws scraped the ground.

"I… resisted. But not fully. My body was taken, my voice… borrowed. But I've held onto my mind. Barely. I ran. Hid. Until now."

Jisoo watched the creature's chest rise and fall, slower now.

"They hate the light," it said. "True light. Solar. Not just heat. Not flame. The kind born from stars. The real kind. That's why the sun is dying. They're starving it."

"Why?" Jisoo asked.

"Because light reveals. Light frees. Light keeps them out. They feed in shadow, they grow in silence. They win by erasing what you were—who you are."

Then, slowly, it turned its eyes back to Haru.

"And he is important."

Haru looked at Jisoo, panicked. "Why me?"

"You hear them, don't you?" the beast said.

Haru swallowed hard. "Sometimes. In my dreams."

The creature closed its eyes.

"Then they've seen you. They've marked you. But you haven't fallen. That makes you dangerous. Or valuable. Maybe both."

Jisoo didn't like the sound of that.

He stepped between Haru and the beast again.

"What do they want with him?"

The beast didn't answer right away.

Then it said, "He's a bridge."

Jisoo stiffened. "What do you mean?"

"Not human. Not yet Other. A boundary. A line they can cross—if cracked. Or a wall they cannot pass—if held firm."

Its eyes locked with Haru's again.

"You must decide what you are, boy. Or they'll decide for you."

The wind rustled the glowing leaves of the great tree for the first time since they entered the clearing.

Jisoo felt the pulse of the forest grow louder—like it was listening.

The creature's voice dropped now. Fainter.

"My time's almost up. They'll know I spoke to you. They'll come."

Jisoo knelt closer to the beast. "Tell me how to fight them."

The creature coughed, a thick glob of black ichor dripping from its mouth.

Then it smiled, weakly.

"Light… is truth. But truth hurts."

Its eyes fluttered.

Jisoo leaned closer.

"Find the Mirror Core," it whispered. "Inside the ruins. Where sky first cracked."

"Where is that?"

The creature didn't answer.

It was gone.

Its chest stilled. The light in its eyes faded.

Haru started to cry again—quietly.

Jisoo placed a hand on the boy's shoulder and stood, heart pounding.

The Mirror Core.

Whatever that was.

Where the sky first cracked.

And now, the forest was no longer silent.

In the distance, something howled.

A dozen voices echoed in response.

Jisoo looked down at the body of the beast. A man who once was human.

Then at the child whose fate was tied to something even darker.

"We move," he said.

Because this was no longer survival.

This was a war.