Glitch

Keiji had just dropped a bomb on me.

Are you ready? Ahem.

This world does not exist!

That villager who loves to knit hats? Not real.

Cedric the annoying untalented noble? Imaginary

I stared at the page, then at him. Then my shovel in the ground, then back at him.

The menu screens were not a foreign concept to me. The Quartermaster had her own. Those glowing blue screens that always hovered inches from her face, casting pale light over her purple eyes as she scrolled. They had useful information: like names, locations and inventories.

But Keiji’s screens were nothing like that. I couldn’t even see them.

“So… you can see my stats? Let’s just start from there.” I said, unsure how much of this insanity I wanted the believe.

He nodded slowly. “Yeah. I can see stats on almost everyone. Level, gear, even names, just like a game. It’s crazy, but …yours are a bit weird.”

“Weird how?”

“It shows your name and level, but nothing else. No bio. No backstory. I asked the quartermaster about it but she didn’t know. According to her screens, you’re still an unnamed character.”

Blank?

Now that I think about it... I don’t remember much before this place. My head is full of memories, but I can’t tell if they are real or fabricated. It’s like I didn’t exist before I became a gravedigger.

Keiji scratched the back of his head, yawning. “I think this world might be like a game. Maybe even is a game.”

Okay, I’m fed up with all this nonsense.

“You keep saying that. What the hell is a game?!”

I didn’t mean to shout, but this…kid was testing my patience. How dare he? Did he know how many heroes like him I’d buried? A lot.

He sighed loudly with his mouth, clearly grasping for language that didn’t quite translate. He grabbed the notebook and scribbled something then closed it and looked at me.

“It’s hard to explain. In my world, this place is known as a video game,” he said. “It’s like… a simulation. A digital world where we…can control characters, complete quests and fight monsters.”

He trailed off, staring at me too long.

“I’m not sure which though. It’s a lot similar to games I’ve played back home but things don’t line up here. In games, there are Non-Playable characters or background characters, basically they exist just to fill out the world.”

“So, I exist to just fill out the world? That’s what you think I am? Just… scenery?"

“I meant usually,” he said with the biggest smile on his face. He scribbled something in his notebook again then closed it.

“Come down, let me explain what that message meant. So, I’ve been detailing everything about the heroes all night and I’ve found a bug in the system.”

“So, now I’m also a bug?”

“Not you specifically,” Keiji muttered. “The system...or whatever runs this world....thinks the original Hero is gone. Now it’s… looking for a replacement. When a game file gets corrupted, it loads from the nearest safe point. At some point, you became a glitch, Ash. If that’s true you might be the most important character in this game.”

He looked shaken even more than I was. But he was also excited?

I don’t understand him. he’s a weird guy

“It all adds up,” he pressed. “That’s why you move the way you do. You’re like a cheat code, dude.”

A glitch? A cheat code? This guy made no sense.

I mean, I knew heroes came from another world —but this? The entire world being fake?

That’s just impossible.

“To you, this all feels... real, right?” Keiji asked suddenly. “The dirt, the blood, the pain?”

I glared at him. “Of course it does. Because it is real.”

“Then answer me this. Why doesn’t anyone seem to care when people die? What about the friends you buried? Did you even know their real names? You didn’t…because they were not real. The fact that your name was background character 33 is all the proof you need.”

I didn’t answer.

I didn’t want it to be true. But the worst part?

It was starting to slowly make sense.

Or maybe I had finally gone crazy.

“But…what about the Church? And people like Lucien…are they also background characters?”

Keiji shrugged. “Not sure. They could be playable characters. I'm not really a big gamer per se so I don't get the rules that much. But I’ve also watched some popular isekai, so i get the basics.”

Then his eyes locked on me, suddenly serious. “Point is… I think you’re hiding something about what happened in the dungeon.”

Before I could say anything, Mira suddenly appeared in front of us.

“Good,” she said, her voice brisk as a whip. “It's nice to see you getting along with heroes. And Keiji, I hope you’ve learned your lesson about what to drink at parties.”

Keiji nodded mutely.

“What’s happening, Mira?”

“You and the Hero have been requested by the Church.”

Her words landed like a cold blade sliding into my spine.

“The Church?” I kept my voice steady. “Why? The ceremony is not until we clear the Mid-Tier.”

She flicked her glowing screen, scrolling with practiced precision. “I didn’t ask. But if it were bad, they wouldn’t have sent a carriage for transportation.”

“That’s supposed to be comforting?”

Mira nodded. “yes.”

I wasn’t comforted.

I changed into my hooded rags, scrubbed my face with a damp towel, and grabbed my pack and shovel.

“So… we’re going?” Keiji asked, voice cracking.

“We don’t have a choice, hero.”

He turned, clutching his notebook like a holy relic. “Quartermaster, let’s say hypothetically, I gave you a piece of…equipment for safekeeping. Are you obligated to, you know, disclose what’s inside?”

Mira’s violet eyes flicked up from her glowing screen. “Hmm,” she mused, scrolling lazily through lines of coded light. “No. Not unless you want me to.”

Keiji frowned. “So you won’t… accidentally rat me out?”

She gave a sly smile. “I have a trash partition in my system. Once I put something in there, it’s locked away. If you want, you can give access to someone else, just in case. But for the most part, No one will have access to it, not even me. “She tilted her head. “Give me the ‘equipment,’ and it’ll vanish where no priest, no king, no nosy Church official can touch it.”

Keiji hesitated, then slowly handed her the notebook. Mira accepted it with both hands and tapped her screen. The book shimmered, its edges dissolving into motes of blue light before phasing clean through the glowing panel. With a soft blink, it was gone.

“See, safe,” Mira corrected, brushing her hands together. “Now let’s move. The Church doesn’t wait on anyone, not even Heroes.”