He tried to quit. The escape key did nothing. Alt+F4 did nothing. Ctrl+Alt+Del brought up a blue screen that read: NOT ENOUGH SOULS. TRY HARDER.

Click.

And somewhere, in a forgotten corner of the internet, the file size of EVILUT10N.wad grew by exactly 75 kilograms.

He screamed. He threw the mouse. The cursor kept moving, dragging him toward a teleporter on screen.

He pushed through the level. The architecture was wrong. Hallways repeated geometry from his own house. A computer panel displayed his desktop wallpaper. Another showed a live feed from his basement security camera— showing him, right now, leaning toward the screen.

Silence. Darkness.

Marcus flinched. "Okay. Creepy mod."

He killed it. It bled a thick, oily black that didn't vanish—it pooled on the floor, spreading toward his boots.

Then the monitor glowed back to life on its own. The game was still running. The Doomguy’s face in the status bar was now a perfect, low-resolution scan of Marcus’s own face , eyes wide, mouth frozen in a silent scream.

The last thing Marcus saw before the power in the whole block failed was his reflection in the dead monitor—all ten fingers, for just a second—before they vanished again, one by one.