A Room with Dim Light

  The room was dimly lit, and Abdul sat slouched on a worn-out sofa, his eyes glued to the glowing phone screen. It was 11:53 PM, and he was engrossed in a tense game of PUBG. His fingers moved furiously, adrenaline coursing through him as he neared victory.

  Suddenly, the screen froze. The Wi-Fi signals were gone.

  Abdul: "No, no, no! Not now!"

  He clenched his jaw, frustration bubbling over. With a loud growl, he hurled the phone onto the bed nearby.

  Abdul (thinking): "I was so damn close to winning! And this stupid internet decides to act up now?! What the fuck!"

  He leaned back into the sofa, exhaling sharply. The quiet hum of the room felt suffocating without the usual sound of the game. He reached for his phone to check if the connection was back, but the screen flickered—something unusual.

  The familiar PUBG logo appeared, but it was distorted, flickering with strange, glowing symbols.

  Abdul(thinking): "What the hell is this? A bug? Some hacker messing with me?"

  Before he could react further, the phone began to buzz violently, the symbols growing brighter. A deafening high-pitched sound filled the room as the phone emitted a flash of blinding white light.

  Abdul shielded his eyes, but it was too late. His vision blurred, the sofa beneath him vanished, and he felt himself falling. A cool breeze whipped across his face as he landed with a thud on coarse dirt.

  Disoriented, he staggered to his feet. His eyes darted around, taking in the landscape. It was all too familiar

  Abdul: "Wait… I know this place…"

  The air was crisp, the faint rustle of leaves carried on a soft morning breeze. Abdul stood still, his eyes scanning the unfamiliar-yet-familiar surroundings. The field stretched out before him, dotted with wild grass and patches of dirt. In the distance, the silhouette of crumbling structures stood against the pale light of dawn.

  Abdul (thinking): "No way. This can’t be real... Am I inside the game?"

  His heart pounded, a mix of disbelief and unease swirling in his chest. He clenched his fists, his mind racing. Bringing his hands closer, he inspected them carefully, as if expecting them to dissolve into pixels. When they didn’t, his fingers instinctively touched his face—solid and warm.

  Abdul (murmuring): "This… this isn’t a dream."

  Just then, something on the ground caught his attention—a piece of rolled paper lying a few feet away. Hesitant but curious, he moved toward it. His footsteps felt heavier, as though gravity itself was reminding him of the situation's absurdity.

  He crouched down and picked up the paper, his fingers trembling slightly as he unrolled it. The lines and markings on the map stopped him cold.

  Abdul: "Erangel."

  It wasn’t just any map—it was the map. The places he’d dropped into hundreds of times were laid out in front of him: Pochinki, the School, the Military Base. His chest tightened as he looked around again, everything matching the virtual terrain he had memorized over hours of gameplay.

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  The realization hit him like a punch in the gut.

  Abdul (thinking): "This is impossible. This is insane. How did I get here?"

  He closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. His thoughts spun in every direction, trying to make sense of the situation. Was this some kind of prank? Had he been drugged? He couldn’t think of any explanation that didn’t sound absurd.

  But then the faint sound of distant gunfire broke the silence, sending a chill down his spine. His instincts sharpened.

  Abdul (thinking): "If this is real, I need to figure out what’s going on—and fast."

  Clutching the map tightly, Abdul started walking, his body on edge and his mind a tangled mess of fear and determination.

  Episode 2(

  Abdul walked cautiously, his eyes darting around as he tried to make sense of his surroundings. Every sound, every shift of the grass in the wind felt sharper, louder, and more vivid than anything he had experienced before.

  Abdul (thinking): "I need to stay calm. Panicking won’t help. First things first—figure out where I am and if there’s anyone else here."

  He glanced at the map again. The closest landmark was a cluster of small buildings that seemed to match the ones he could barely see in the distance. It was an area he remembered looting countless times in the game.

  The distant echo of gunfire returned, sharper this time, pulling him out of his thoughts. His muscles tensed instinctively.

  Abdul (thinking): "That’s not just noise. Someone’s there… and they have a gun."

  His pace quickened as he reached the first building. It was a dilapidated one-story house with peeling paint and a rusty door barely hanging on its hinges. Abdul hesitated, his hand hovering over the handle.

  Abdul (thinking): "If this is anything like the game, there could be weapons inside… or someone waiting to ambush me."

  He steeled himself, pushing the door open slowly. The creak echoed through the empty structure, but no one was inside. The room was bare except for a wooden table, a few broken chairs, and something lying on the floor—a crowbar.

  Abdul exhaled a small breath of relief.

  Abdul (muttering): "Not ideal, but it’s better than nothing."

  He picked up the crowbar, the cold metal reassuring in his grip. He quickly scanned the rest of the building but found nothing useful—no guns, no first-aid kits, no answers.

  As he stepped outside, his ears caught a new sound—footsteps, crunching on gravel. They were close, too close. Abdul’s heart raced. He gripped the crowbar tightly, his knuckles turning white.

  Abdul (thinking): "Stay calm. Don’t make a sound."

  He crouched low, hiding behind the doorframe, his breath shallow. The footsteps grew louder, stopping just outside the building. Abdul peered around the corner, his body tense.

  A figure stood there, dressed in a helmet and vest that Abdul instantly recognized. It was the standard Level 1 gear from the game. The man held a pistol, scanning the area cautiously.

  Abdul (thinking): "Is he… real? Or just part of the game?"

  The man turned his head slightly, and their eyes met. For a split second, neither of them moved. Then the man raised his pistol.

  Abdul: "Shit!"

  Without thinking, Abdul swung the crowbar with all his strength, the adrenaline taking over. The impact sent the pistol flying from the man’s hand. He stumbled back, but before Abdul could follow up, the man lunged at him.

  They crashed to the ground, the crowbar slipping from Abdul’s grasp. The man was strong—too strong—but Abdul’s survival instincts kicked in. He twisted his body, using his legs to push the man off and scramble for the crowbar.

  Grabbing it just in time, he swung again, this time connecting with the man’s helmet. The figure collapsed, motionless.

  Abdul sat there, gasping for air, his hands shaking as he stared at the unconscious body.

  Abdul (thinking): "I just fought someone… and won. This is insane. This is too real."

  He forced himself to stand, wiping the sweat from his brow. He needed answers, but for now, all he could do was keep moving. The faint sound of an engine in the distance reminded him that this wasn’t over—not by a long shot.

  Abdul’s chest heaved as he stared at the motionless body in front of him. His mind raced, the weight of what just happened crushing down on him.

  Abdul (thinking): "This isn’t just some game. If I had hesitated for even a second…"

  He shook his head, trying to steady his breathing. He crouched down beside the body, his trembling hands hesitant to touch it. The lifeless figure was clad in Level 1 gear—nothing special, but it was better than what Abdul had.

  Abdul (muttering): "I need to focus. If this is anything like the game, I’ll need every advantage I can get."

  Swallowing his unease, Abdul began unfastening the man’s helmet and vest. His fingers fumbled, not because the gear was complex, but because of the sheer weight of what he was doing. He wasn’t looting an NPC. This was a person—a real person.

  He shook off the thought and quickly put on the helmet and vest. The weight of the gear felt strange but somehow reassuring.

  Next, his eyes fell on the pistol lying in the dirt. For a moment, he hesitated.

  Abdul (thinking): "I’ve held controllers and virtual guns a thousand times, but this is different. This is real."

  He reached for the pistol, the cold metal sending a shiver through his hand. It was heavier than he expected, yet the feeling was eerily familiar—like muscle memory from years of gaming.

  Abdul: "I’ve done this before. Just… not like this."

  He checked the weapon instinctively, his fingers tracing the grooves and mechanisms. It wasn’t perfect, but it was functional. The man had been carrying a small pouch with extra ammunition, which Abdul pocketed without hesitation.

  Standing up, he scanned the horizon again. The distant sound of an engine hummed through the air, growing louder. His pulse quickened.

  Abdul (thinking): "Someone’s coming. I need to move."

  He tightened his grip on the pistol and looked at the map again. His immediate goal was clear: find better weapons, gather supplies, and figure out how to survive. This wasn’t just about winning anymore—this was about staying alive.

  As he turned toward the nearest cluster of buildings, a grim determination settled over him.

  Abdul (thinking): "This isn’t a joke. I can’t mess this up. One mistake, and I’m done."

  With the pistol in hand and the map in his pocket, Abdul began walking. Every step felt heavier, each sound sharper. This was no longer a game—it was life or death.