Chapitre 1: Ferrari Walked In The Bar
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With trembling hands, I clicked the mouse, forcing myself to cancel the download at the last moment. Self-discipline is a challenging feat.
Sighing, I leaned back in my gaming chair, gazing at the white ceiling. "Why is this so difficult?"
It had been approximately three weeks since I quit gaming, an activity I had indulged in for at least ten hours daily over the past eight years. I was an addict. I dropped out of school as soon as my streaming income became sufficient to cover rent and food expenses. I would sit in that chair for days without moving, surrounded by a mountain of empty gamer soda cans. I played all sorts of games, from FPS to RPG, and I was quite skilled. I stopped leaving my room, which wasn't an issue since I lived alone. It took me far too long to realize that this lifestyle wasn't sustainable. I had to quit gaming—the only thing I enjoyed in my otherwise dreary existence.
My gaze shifted to the wall clock; it was 8:46. I rose from the chair and stretched before turning my attention to my gaming PC. Although I had deleted all the games, I occasionally found myself starting to download them again, barely managing to stop.
There was only one solution. I took out my phone and snapped a picture of the PC; it was going straight to eBay. Without gaming, I had no need for a PC. I didn't require it for work, and my phone sufficed for internet browsing.
After posting the ad, I headed to the bathroom for a shower. It was time for my job—a job I had taken not just for the money but also to keep my mind off gaming.
As I looked into the bathroom mirror, I noticed improvements. My eyes were no longer bloodshot, and my hair had lost its greasy sheen. However, the light in my eyes had faded. Life had become a chore, and I was experiencing withdrawal symptoms akin to a nicotine addict.
After showering, I dressed in a simple black shirt and blue jeans, grabbed my phone and wallet, and headed out.
As I walked through the bustling streets, I observed people going about their mundane daily routines: work, home, sleep, and the occasional weekend off.
If this were a game, most of these people would be NPCs. And now, as much as I despised it, I was one of them. The thrill and excitement of gaming had been replaced by a tedious and uninspiring cycle.
My interest in the surroundings quickly waned. I walked quietly, head down, until I reached my workplace.
Technically, my job was far from dull. I was a bartender at a lively bar, a place where extroverts gathered to unwind. It was a challenging environment for me, but I forced myself into this situation, hoping for a change within me.
The bar buzzed with the energy of a typical weekend. Dozens of people, eager to relax and enjoy themselves, filled the space. The floor vibrated with the force of their dancing and singing, while the air carried the scent of spilled drinks and the less pleasant odor of vomit.
"Ye-ah, Ye-ah, Ye-ah!" they cheered as a couple on stage performed a duet that, while not a masterpiece, got everyone moving.
Above them, the disco ball shimmered and spun, its lights reflecting off sweaty bodies and casting a kaleidoscope of colors across the room.
I stood behind the counter, my attention drawn to Ginger, a regular who visited with her boyfriend each night. We had become acquainted over the two weeks I had worked there. She sat across from me, her bright green eyes flashing with frustration. She wasn't drinking, and dancing was the last thing on her mind. Her freckled cheeks puffed out in a sulk as she pushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear.
"Just how lazy is he? I asked him to take me shopping for my little brother's 11th birthday tomorrow, and you won't believe it. That wannabe actor refused—right to my face!"
I was only half-listening, distracted by Ginger's attractiveness, which seemed too real for a 3D girl. My usual preference for 2.5D was being challenged.
"'Just buy him some crayons,' he says. That bastard even asked me to bake the cake myself, saying he'd love to eat my homemade. How cringe is that? It's the 21st century! I had to convince him at the last minute."
I couldn't tell if Ginger was genuinely complaining or if this was her way of humble-bragging. Her blushing made it hard to take her seriously.
"Hello! Eric? Are you even listening?" Ginger waved her hand in front of my face, snapping me out of my thoughts. I jumped from my chair and reached for a bottle.
"Yeah, you want another shot? Small, right?"
Ginger smiled. "No, you idiot. I don't drink. You really weren't listening, were you? And you're supposed to be a bartender?"
"Ah, sorry about that. I'm just a bit out of it tonight."
I averted my gaze, feeling awkward. I berated myself for being so distracted at work. As new patrons arrived, I quickly began pouring drinks, not wanting to keep Ginger waiting. This job was proving to be more challenging than I anticipated.
"You're still only 19, right? You can't taste your own drinks, can you?" Ginger asked casually, curious if I secretly indulged.
Glass clinked as I poured drinks. I glanced sideways and shook my head.
"I can't. Still a few months to go. But the pay's good, and they don't fuss about my age." After serving the patrons, I sat back down.
"Owen sure is late, isn't he? It's 11 pm already. Not many stores are open this late." I attempted to change the subject.
"Especially kids' stores. I told him that, but His Highness complained about being busy with auditions. Can you believe he thinks he'll star in a movie? He might have the looks, but have you seen him act? He's like Charlie Chaplin."
Her eyes lit up as she recalled the memory, then she covered her face in embarrassment.
"I thought Charlie Chaplin was a great actor. Isn't he?" I asked, having never seen a single movie of the acclaimed actor.
"Ney! He is, but you—tsk—you don't get it…" Ginger clicked her tongue, frustrated at her inability to explain.
Just then, a tall, lean figure entered the bar, heading straight for the counter. His medium-length black hair, styled in funky waves, swayed as he walked quickly. His dark brown eyes locked onto Ginger's, who had already noticed him.
"Late. Too late!" She spat, clutching the counter. "Was it traffic? Or did your phone get lost again? What's the excuse this time?"
She stood to confront him, but he kissed her on the cheek, ignoring her anger.
"Don't worry. I knew I was running late, so I picked something up on the way." He pulled back, caressing her hair to calm her down.
"Huh? You picked the gift yourself? Are you insane? He's my brother, not yours. And what about the cake? Don't tell me you forgot. And what did you buy?"
"Yeah, yeah, babe. Let's calm down for a second." He sat beside her. "I couldn't help it. The auditions ran too long, and my number was second to last. Blame bad luck."
"It's not bad luck if you do this every time. I was foolish to trust you..." Ginger turned away, staring at the disco ball. Her feet tapped in rhythm with the music.
Owen smiled bitterly and looked at me. "And how have you been, dude? I hear you're changing apartments?"
I didn't meet Owen's gaze. To be honest, I didn't like him simply because Ginger liked him. Aside from that, he was a cool guy, contrary to my expectations of extroverts.
With a short nod, I replied, "I can afford a better one now. Want a drink?" The pay here was definitely better than what I earned from streaming. I was a skilled gamer but struggled to keep the audience engaged.
"No, we're already late..." Ginger interrupted.
"A small shot won't hurt, will it? I'll be done in a minute." Owen wrapped his arms around her.
"So, you want to drink and drive? I won't go with you if you do that." She pushed his arm away.
As the couple bickered, I tried to suppress the bitterness growing within me. They had a vibrant life, unlike mine. I appreciated their attempts to engage with me but also resented them for it.
To distract myself, I focused on the music, pretending to vibe, but then something strange happened.
*Static*
*Silence*
Suddenly, the music stopped. The bar, usually alive with the sound of glasses clinking, laughter, and music, fell into an awkward silence. A few seconds later, murmurs turned into complaints.
"Hey, what's going on?" someone shouted from the back, while others banged their fists on the bar, demanding answers. Flustered, I rushed to the sound system, hands up in apology. "Hold on! I'll fix it!" I called, but the grumbling only intensified.
Ginger and Owen paused their argument, watching as I struggled with the phone, checking the Wi-Fi connection.
"Be calm. It's no big deal..." Owen reassured me, glaring at the angry patron.
"Yeah, I know, but—"
// Earth #249 Scanning... //
I blinked, startled by the strange voice. "Did you hear that?"
"Is there some issue with the connection?" Owen heard the voice but couldn't pinpoint its source.
"No, the voice didn't come from..."
// Scanning complete: 8,178,201,938 individuals found //
// Eliminating unfit individuals //
"What the hell is this voice? We want music, not ads! Hurry up or I'm gonna—huh, what..." A rowdy guy shouted, but to his surprise, the bar began to fill with sparkling specters of light.
"What the fuck? Why am I glittering?" The light seemed to emanate from the people themselves.
"Is this some joke? Turn it off?"
Initially, confusion reigned. Heads turned toward the disco ball, assuming it was a new arty trick or prank. Groans and boos filled the air. But before anyone could react further, it happened.
One by one, people began to fade, their bodies dissolving into shimmering specks of light. At first, no one believed what they were witnessing. A woman near the dance floor screamed as her arm vanished, flickering like static on a screen. Others cried out in panic as they too disintegrated, leaving nothing but sparkling dust.
"What the hell is this? Someone help me...I I...."
"Is this that Thanos thing? Right. No way it could be real. I have an important interview tomorrow..."
"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I am dying..."
Chaos erupted. People ran in all directions, knocking over tables, spilling drinks, and pushing one another in frantic attempts to escape. Shouts of fear turned to howls of terror as more patrons vanished into thin air, leaving glowing trails behind.
Most of them rushed outside, colliding and falling over each other. One ran headfirst into the counter, causing glasses to shatter and scatter across the floor.
"Everyone, please stay calm!" I spoke automatically, unable to comprehend the situation. It was all happening too fast for me to react.
"Ginger! Come here! Are you okay? We have to get help! Eric, let's—hey, hey, watch out!" Owen pulled Ginger away just in time, but I was out of reach.
CRASH!
BAM!
The screech of tires cut through the chaos. The front gate of the bar exploded as a blood-red Ferrari tore into the building, its engine roaring. Glass and debris flew as the car smashed through tables and chairs, heading straight for the bar counter. Half-disintegrated bodies flew back meters away due to reduced weight. Screams and cries filled the air.
I barely had time to react before the Ferrari crashed into the counter with a deafening crunch. Bottles exploded, and glass rained down on me. Trapped under the wreckage, I struggled to free myself, blood trickling from my forehead and glass cutting into my arms.
The car door flew open, but the driver's seat was empty. The chaos intensified as bodies continued to fade into specks of light, more screams piercing the air. The once vibrant bar had transformed into a nightmare, a place where reality was unraveling.
No way!" Ginger screamed. "Owen! He's bleeding! Owen... Owen! Why are you disappearing? NOOO! DON'T LEAVE ME!" Ginger looked at her lover in horror. Her heart was breaking. Owen was flickering like a cheap neon sign, on the verge of fading. Ginger held him tightly, unwilling to let him leave her alone.
Owen smiled faintly as Ginger hugged him with all her strength, tears streaming down her freckled cheeks.
"It... it'll be fine. Don't cry... I'll..."
"NOOO! OWEN!! NOOOO!!!"
Her deafening scream dispersed the floating specks.
In the next moment, Ginger was left alone, hugging the air, tears and confusion streaming from her green eyes. She collapsed on the floor.
Amidst the chaos, the voice returned, cold and indifferent.
// Proceeding. 10,000,000 individuals remaining. //
// Tutorial begins in 2 hours. //
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone