Thanks, Star Lady...

Chapter 1: Kuroken

Winter's chill hung heavy in the air as I swung the obsidian blade, Kuroken, its edge humming with arcane energy. The scent of frost and the metallic tang of blood filled the air around me. Each step on the battlefield echoed with the weight of my movements, the ground trembling as I parried a massive troll's club, feeling its impact reverberate through my arms.

I moved with calculated precision, dancing through the chaos. The troll's enraged bellow filled my ears, its hot breath seeming to freeze before me as I sidestepped its sweeping strike. Kuroken gleamed in the flickering light of distant flames, its runes pulsing faintly with each swing. I felt the strain in my muscles with every blow, pushing back with the determination born of countless skirmishes.

The battlefield teemed with life and death, a symphony of clashing steel and primal screams. Adrenaline surged through me, my heartbeat drumming in time with the cadence of battle. Victory seemed close as I lunged forward, driving Kuroken through the troll's chest with a final, decisive thrust.

But victory was fleeting. The troll's club crashed down on top of my head, pulverizing me into the ground. The world went dark.

"Game Over" flashed on the screen, mocking my efforts once more.

I slumped back in my chair, the taste of defeat bitter on my tongue. Empty cans of Mountain Dew Gamer Fuel cluttered my desk, their sweetness a stark contrast to the harsh reality of failure. I rubbed my eyes, feeling the strain of hours spent in front of the screen, battling digital foes.

"Can you believe it, Miku?" I muttered, glancing at the Hatsune Miku figure perched on my desk. "I lost again. The mighty Dark Reaper, defeated by a troll. Pathetic, right?"

I stared at her, as if expecting her to respond. "Maybe I should introduce myself properly. Hi there, I'm Subete Owari, your typical NEET shut-in. Yeah, I know, the name's a bit on the nose—'Owari' literally means 'end' in Japanese. Pretty fitting, considering how my life's turned out."

I stretched my arms, the joints popping in protest. "I live with my parents here in Tokyo. They're great and all, but let's face it, I'm not exactly their dream son. I spend my days holed up in my room, playing video games and occasionally writing strategy guides for side money. Not exactly the kind of success story you hear about at family reunions."

My gaze drifted to the window, the winter night outside casting an eerie glow. "But hey, I did make a video game in high school. It wasn't much, just a little indie project, but it took off. I'm still getting royalties from it, so I guess I'm not a complete failure. At least I'm set for now, right?"

I let out a chuckle, more to convince myself than anything. "So there you have it. Subete Owari, professional edgelord and part-time strategy guide writer, living the dream—or something like that."

With a sigh, I pushed myself up from the chair. It was time for a break, a pilgrimage to the nearby convenience store for some late-night sustenance. The winter night embraced me with its icy tendrils as I stepped outside, the city around me bathed in the soft glow of streetlights diffused by frosty mist.

I walked briskly, the cold biting at my cheeks. At 165cm with an average build, I didn't exactly cut an imposing figure. My black, messy hair and brown eyes reflected the weariness of my lifestyle. Dressed in a sweat-stained white shirt and sweatpants, I probably looked like I had just rolled out of bed—which, to be fair, I had.

As I approached the convenience store, I noticed a girl about my age browsing the shelves. She had long, chestnut hair and a serene expression that seemed to light up the drab fluorescent-lit store. She wore a neat school uniform, her posture graceful and confident. For a moment, she looked like someone important, a main character in a story.

Heart pounding, I mustered the courage to approach her. "Um, hi," I began awkwardly, my voice catching in my throat. "Do you, uh, come here often?"

She looked up, her eyes meeting mine for a brief second before she chuckled softly. "Not really," she replied, her tone polite but distant. "Just needed a quick snack before heading home."

Feeling my face flush, I nodded. "Yeah, me too. Just...taking a break from, you know, stuff."

She gave me a quick, amused smile before turning back to the shelf. "Well, good luck with your... stuff."

"Thanks," I muttered, scratching the back of my head awkwardly. "Hey, by the way, I'm Subete Owari. What's your name?"

"Mizushima," she replied, glancing back at me with a hint of curiosity. "Nice to meet you, Owari."

As she walked away, I could feel the embarrassment seeping into my bones. I made my way to the cashier, grabbing a pork bun from the shelf along the way. The cashier, a middle-aged man with tired eyes, gave me a brief nod of acknowledgment. "Late night snack?" he asked, his voice tinged with amusement.

"Yeah," I muttered, trying to muster a smile. "Needed a break from...stuff."

He nodded, handing me my change. "Hang in there."

Outside once more, I found a quiet bench under a barren cherry blossom tree. The city noise faded into the background as I unwrapped the pork bun, steam rising in the cold, crisp night air. The first bite brought warmth and comfort, the savory pork filling my senses. I chewed slowly, lost in contemplation.

I glanced at my phone, its screen casting a soft blue glow on my face. Messages from friends scrolled past, invitations to group raids and late-night gaming sessions. I chuckled softly, my thumb hovering over the reply button. Despite my love for the virtual realms, real-world interactions often left me fumbling for words.

After a moment, I switched tabs on my phone, absentmindedly opening a dating app. Profiles flashed by, each one a potential connection in the vast digital sea. Swiping left, swiping right—it was a dance I knew well, yet one that felt increasingly hollow. The artificial brightness of social media followed, a stream of carefully curated lives and distant acquaintances.

As I scrolled through photos of parties and adventures, a pang of loneliness settled in my chest. Despite the digital buzz of notifications and messages, I couldn't shake the feeling of being adrift in a sea of faces, my own existence reduced to a series of likes and comments.

"Why is it so easy to connect in games," I mused quietly, tapping aimlessly on the screen, "but so hard in real life?"

The question hung in the air, unanswered. I closed the apps with a sigh, returning my attention to the winter night around me. A stray cat nuzzled against my leg, its warmth a silent comfort in the chill. Above, the stars had resumed their quiet vigil, the woman-shaped constellation now a distant memory in the vast expanse of sky.

"Hey there, little guy," I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper. The cat purred softly, pressing closer against my leg. "You seem to understand me better than most people."

Suddenly, the night sky above me seemed to ripple, as if disturbed by some unseen force. I looked up, my heart skipping a beat as the stars shifted and rearranged themselves. A constellation that resembled a woman with outstretched arms emerged from the darkness, its form ethereal yet unmistakable.

My breath caught in my throat, a chill running down my spine as I stared at the celestial apparition. The night seemed to close in around me, the air thick with an otherworldly presence. Panic clawed at my chest, my mind struggling to comprehend the impossible sight unfolding above.

And then, without warning, the woman-shaped constellation reached out towards me. Long, slender fingers of stardust stretched across the sky, their tips grazing the edges of reality. I tried to move, to scream, but my body felt paralyzed, rooted to the bench beneath me.

Darkness descended like a curtain, swallowing me whole. The world around me dissolved into nothingness, leaving only the sensation of falling endlessly into the void.