Banned from the Game

‘Can't enter? The game?’

Ejected into reality, Aaliyah's eyes widened as he repeatedly checked the system window that had appeared.

No matter how many times he checked, no matter how he tapped the save file, the message remained unchanged, not a single letter different. He could no longer return to the save file where the protagonist ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠had given him the name Aaliyah.

‘Then if I just make a new character and start over... No. That's not the vibe. It's not like that.’

He was certain he'd been permanently locked out of the session he'd been in. His experience with countless games confirmed it.

Games that gave players only one shot were surprisingly common. From minor penalties like losing all stats upon death to cases like this—permanent character death or even being unable to launch the game at all. His games hadn't been the type with harsh death penalties, so there was some doubt, but this was still more realistic and easier to accept than being able to talk to NPCs.

‘...Tch.’

Who would've thought it'd be like this? He'd just started enjoying the freshly updated game. With a heavy sigh, his hopes of unlocking new content by gathering players fizzled out.

If there had been a clear guide, if he'd known from the start that ‘death means game over,’ he might have played more cautiously.

“Ah, ah, can you hear me? Still not clear?”

Ejected from the game, he had only one thing left to do: pass on the system knowledge he'd learned firsthand as a tip to the other players. He couldn't speak into the game itself, and he didn't have the loyalty to find alternative methods for them.

“I died. You can't re-enter if you die, so watch your backs.”

He was willing to relay a few words through the already-connected voice chat program.

The fact that a player had died was announced by a voice in his place. Complete with an illustration of the message.

Confirming no mercy kill was needed, Aiden withdrew the blade from the fallen player's throat and slipped behind cover.

The weapon he'd used for the assassination was the dagger hidden inside Claire's cane.

―All good, but you know you have to give it back, right...?

An urgent voice whispered in his ear. When he'd said he needed a short weapon, Claire had tossed one from somewhere. Her cane, adorned with a small cross or bell, concealed a blade—perfect for assassination, even if the circumstances differed slightly.

“I'll return it after this is over.”

―Fine... ugh, got it. Just don't break it.

They reached an instant agreement, and she fell silent. Only now did the surroundings feel truly quiet.

The golems the players had been diligently hunting were down to about three. One player left. And thanks to the surrounding debris, he hadn't even noticed his friend's death. The perfect situation.

Everything was going exactly as planned for now.

‘Gotta buy some time with this player too.’

He'd roughly prevented the village from being swept up in the attack. He'd even finished off the golems the players were hunting in their stead, though he wasn't entirely sure. If he handled the remaining player the same way and subdued any late arrivals with force...

“...?”

Scrape.

Someone dragged their foot across the ground. The sound came unnaturally close.

The person closest to Aiden was just one: the player. He'd just turned his head in Aiden's direction and was slowly stepping closer.

Coming this way? No, something felt off. For a player unaware of what had happened to suddenly head straight here? It didn't make sense.

But contrary to his expectations, if another player were here, they might advise Aiden: For players, enemy positions are the most crucial info. Enemy sounds always seem much closer.

‘Did he spot me? Too quiet?’

The player had definitely noticed his comrade's death. Ignoring the golems, heading straight here without checking elsewhere.

But how? He could've noticed the chatty friend going silent, but how did he know the direction? Had they shared enough silent coordination to pinpoint location and method?

Before he knew it, the player had closed the distance to one golem body away.

“...”

The silent player took a few more steps, glancing around. No one there. Nothing with HP. Just the corpse of the player who'd proven firsthand that death meant no re-entry.

Thanks to Aiden immediately shifting position to break line of sight, the player only confirmed the presence of a hostile, stronger enemy beyond the golems here.

Click. The player's voice ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠chat disconnected. No reason to keep talking to someone booted from the game. Not friends, just randos from last night's session—why bother with that much loyalty? He'd died instantly to a stealth attack with zero warning. Sharing that intel was thanks enough.

‘Player.’

‘Player.’

Aiden and the player. Coincidentally, their thoughts overlapped.

Wary of the new enemy before them, unwilling to lower guards even for a chat, ultimately...

‘Whoever this is, if I catch 'em, they're dead.’

‘I'll make sure they never set foot here again.’

Both vowed to kill the one who'd inflicted damage.

Crash!

The player's wild club swing destroyed all three remaining golems in a shower of debris. Aiden hadn't snatched the finish this time.

A level up from the EXP gain. Unaware of the theft that delayed his own, the player dismissed any oddity with a silent grin.

At the same time, the large and small wounds across his body began healing at rapid speed.

‘Player ability? Healing wounds without prep...’

Hidden, Aiden observed everything. How it worked, any unique behaviors. No potions drunk or sprinkled. No bell like Claire's. Just standing there, not twitching a finger, performing physical recovery magic. That's how it looked to non-players.

Thud, thud!!

Recovery complete, the player slammed his club end into the ground twice. Like a vanguard planting a flag or spear.

If he dared guess, it was a declaration of war through action. A voiceless taunt to the hidden Aiden: ‘Come at me if you dare.’

‘As you wish.’

To fight an enemy whose position he didn't know, the player kept scanning while using fallen golem bodies to guard his back, gripping his club two-handed.

Thinking that, plus his ability, would flush out the hider? Player logic aside, it suited Aiden fine.

Aiden hurriedly took aim. Time was precious against a stationary foe.

Aligning the crosshair on the player's head—facing away—fired without hesitation.

Clang!

But the player thrust his club toward the incoming spear. It failed to pierce the thick bludgeon, ricocheting back to Aiden's hand.

“Damn.”

The player glared at Aiden's position with eyes full of certainty. Not just memorized direction—instinct.

Thud.

He set down the club he'd held aloft. Inventory for any weapon.

What he drew: a bow. Undersized against his bulk, but amateurish no more.

Twang!

...The shot grazing right beside him was anything but clumsy.

―You didn't get hit, right...?

“Of course not.”

Lucky miss, but position exposed. Quite accurately.

The player had seized advantage with his ability; reversing it was only natural.

‘Can't observe from hiding much longer.’

Sniping his share and life from afar ended here. For subdual, Aiden had to close in now.

Piercing the player's precise aim with the bow.

“...Claire.”

Luckily, help was at hand.

Crackle, crackle!

Dry lightning struck. A deliberate white flash and noise to disrupt vision.

The player whipped around at the sound. The close-range strike felt more threatening than distant foes.

But what blinded him was the blinding light and roar, not harm.

Claire's lightning acted like a flashbang, robbing the two most vital senses.

Weeeeeeen.

Temporarily blind and deaf, the player squeezed his eyes shut, flailing his club wildly. He couldn't even hear the whoosh of air.

But he didn't stop. In-game flashbangs faded after seconds.

So what if swinging blindly at thin air looked ridiculous? If the hidden player laughed? Survival against the player-hunting foe came first—even banking on luck.

Survival was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠key, but...

Scraaaape...!

As senses trickled back, hands seized his head, slamming it to the ground.

Crushed hand forced the club free. Disbelieving, he rolled his eyes to check his arm—still immobile.

First time feeling ‘strength drain’ in a VR without excess sensation, the player panicked uncontrollably.

“First time meeting. Not for you, though.”

The man's voice from above the prone, rising player. Struggling, he turned to identify the familiar timbre.

Neck worked fine. Seeing his suppressor's face, the player doubted his own eyes and ears.

“Nice to meet you, Player.”

The hidden saboteur who'd hounded him, booted his comrade, subdued him—a sentient being. An NPC. Aiden. He hadn't expected that.