I’ve loved games for as long as I can remember. The reason is simple. I spent most of my childhood in a hospital, so what else was there to do? Over time, gaming became more than a hobby; it became a part of my life. But you can get sick of anything if you do it long enough. "Oh, for fuck's sake, what is this AI thinking? Why would you heal there?" Eventually, no matter what I played, the magic was gone. It didn't matter if it was an AOS, an RPG, or an FPS—it was all the same. Every new release felt like recycled garbage. The stories and settings were formulaic, the systems shallow. I was desperate for a game with something more, something special. That’s when I found Shadow and Steel. The rhythmic clatter of my keyboard filled the room. The game was a single-player RPG, an indie title from overseas. It had no Korean language support and used 2D pixel graphics, a style that was already a relic. To be honest, it was the opposite of what I usually played. Still, it was free. I installed it on a whim, and before I knew it, I was hooked. "Wow, that was close. Almost got myself killed like a total newbie." The game was unique in so many ways. When your character died, that was it. You started over from scratch. Progress was impossible without NPC companions, and for a top-down scroller, the degree of freedom was staggering. The skill system was intricate, the world was compelling, and the story held my interest even though I had to struggle through it in English. Most importantly, I could feel something in this game, an indefinable spark that set it apart. Click, tap, click-clack. I had just started my public service assignment working in the subways, and I threw myself completely into Shadow and Steel. It wasn't easy. Combat wasn't a simple matter of managing HP and MP. You could be at full health, make one wrong move, and a character you’d painstakingly built over three months would be gone in an instant. "Alright. Let's go." After two years, I still couldn't even reach the mid-game. Swallowing my pride, I went looking for a strategy guide. There was nothing on the Korean portals, so I had to translate pages from foreign sites, but even that proved useless. The game had a tiny player base abroad, and the few articles I found were thin on useful information. The people who called it a "dead game" after a month or two knew nothing. I, who had been plumbing its depths for two solid years, understood it far better than any of them. So I gave up on guides. "Three steps up, four left, one down, two left, six up, four right. And... sidestep the trap. Okay." This was the game I had been searching for, wasn't it? The one thing I could truly lose myself in. I resolved to see it through on my own. And so, after all this time… "Whoa." I’d finally reached this point. A portal shimmered on the screen, its title floating in grim pixels: Chthonian Gate. My character stood before the entrance to the final boss room. Of course, this wasn't the end. I knew I’d be making this trip many more times. This wasn't the kind of game you beat on the first try. Even so, I could feel the tension in my stiff fingertips. The final boss. To some, it might mean nothing. But for me, this moment was nine years in the making. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say this game had been with me through my entire twenties. The day my public service was canceled, the day I returned to university to re-enroll, the day I got the acceptance letter for the job I'd always wanted after graduation—through it all, I had always played Shadow and Steel. I moved my character forward. A prompt appeared. `Do you want to enter?` Of course I did. I clicked YES. But another message materialized, this one different. `You may not be able to come back. Are you sure you want to enter?` From a player's perspective, it was redundant. Why would I have come all this way if I didn't want to go in? `Yes / No` I clicked Yes, and the screen faded to black, a loading icon spinning in the center. Staring into the darkened monitor, I focused my thoughts. How many attack patterns would it have? What were its characteristics? There had to be an instant-kill move or two. I pushed aside any hope of winning on the first try. The goal was to gather information. I might even have to scrap my entire character build and skill combos. My mind, buzzing with excitement and anticipation, was consumed with the final boss. And that's why I was too late to notice. `You have reached the abyss.` `Tutorial complete.` Tutorial complete? No, wait. Before that—why were these characters in Korean? Shadow and Steel was only available in English. `Transmission begins.` Just as the sense of wrongness hit me, a brilliant light erupted from the monitor. It was far too intense to be coming from the screen; it flooded the entire room. "Damn it! My eyes!" In an instant, my world turned white. A high-pitched ringing filled my ears as a strange heat bloomed across my skin. My thoughts grew fuzzy and distant, as if I’d been hit with a fast-acting anesthetic. I’d always prided myself on my ability to handle a crisis, but in that moment, I was completely lost. Flash! As the light intensified, I lost consciousness. And when I opened my eyes again… I was a barbarian in the game.

Chapter 1: A deadly new addiction