When Fantasy Glitches

"Shit! Why in the hell did they have to spot me? Just my luck!" Magnus couldn't help but curse aloud as he bolted through the forest, adrenaline surging through him.

Low-hanging branches seemed to lash out at him as he ran, marking his skin with welts and minor cuts across his arms, face, and neck. Yet, the immediate threat of his pursuers kept him from paying any mind to these kinds of minor injuries.

Just a few feet behind him were two bandits who had split from the main group that was locked in combat with Marcos and Gerald.

Magnus had never been known for his speed; after all, if he was, he would have been able to avoid getting targeted so much at school.

Of course, that also meant that his stamina was in no way going to last in a long-winded pursuit against two fully grown men. They were only a couple minutes into the chase, and he could already feel his lungs searing with each breath and his muscles screaming for him to stop.

"Quit running, you little shit!" Still, a shout from one of the bandits behind him spurred Magnus on, pushing him to demand even more of his already exhausted body.

"Damn it, we were just supposed to grab him and use him as a hostage against those other two freaks. At this rate, we'll end up getting lost out here!" The second bandit grumbled as they darted through the dense woodland, with Magnus leading them on a desperate dance through trees and over roots in an attempt to slow them down or trip them up.

Still, even with all of his efforts, they were still on top of him.

"Just keep going; he's losing steam!" The first bandit's voice carried a sinister assurance as they plunged deeper into the forest, moving further away from the road where they had initially ambushed Mia and her group.

Glancing back, Magnus could see the grim determination on his pursuers' faces. The fear of what might happen if they got a hold of him and his survival instincts were the only things pushing him forward at this point. Still, he could only push himself so hard until there was nothing left to give.

The moment his speed dropped, they would grab him.

He had to come up with a plan, and fast. It was hard to think since he was pushing his body to its limit, but sheer desperation gave way to clarity.

Alright, just focus! I just need to do something to throw them off. If I can break from their line of sight, even for a second, I can find a place to hide. In a forest this dense, as long as I stay low and quiet, there's no way they'll be able to find me.

As Magnus raced forward, his eyes frantically searched the blur of his surroundings for anything that could offer him an advantage, an opportunity to slip away. That's when he spotted it—a cluster of trees, their branches woven so tightly together that they completely blocked your view of what was on the other side.

This was his chance.

With a swift, sharp turn, Magnus darted towards the thick group of trees. His sudden change in direction threw the bandits off, giving him the precious seconds he needed to disappear from their view.

"He's getting away!" One of the bandits yelled, watching in frustration as Magnus vanished into the dense thicket. They immediately tried to follow after him, but it was already too late. By the time they reached the other side, they were met with nothing but the quiet of the forest.

The occasional rustle of leaves was the only sign of life.

Magnus had vanished, with even his footprints being untraceable thanks to the thick foliage and the forest's natural camouflage.

"Fuck, we lost him," the second bandit spat out, his anger evident as he kicked at the forest floor. But the first bandit wasn't ready to give up just yet.

"He only dropped from our line of sight for a few seconds, so he couldn't have gotten that far. He's hiding, probably behind a tree or in a bush. You check that area over there, and I'll go this way. We just need to keep each other in sight. He can't stay hidden forever."

The second bandit hesitated; he honestly wanted to head back and regroup with everyone. But after pondering over it for a bit, he decided to give in and simply voiced his concerns with a trace of fear.

"Fine, but we're in deep trouble if the boss finishes off that spirit naturalist and finds us missing."

"Assuming he even manages to beat her, that is. I’ve heard stories about how dangerous spirit naturalists are. Even if the boss can use aura, he may not be able to win, which is just another good reason to grab the kid," the first bandit reasoned, drawing a skeptical glance from his companion.

“What do you mean? You really think the boss is going to lose?” the second bandit asked, disbelief lacing his tone.

“Hey, I’m just thinking about all the possibilities. If the boss loses, then we’re fucked when we head back, so we should at least have the kid so we can use him as leverage. And if the boss wins, then we’ll still have a pretty good excuse for leaving the others behind. Didn’t you see the brat's face? It was pretty much flawless. Even if he's no use in a fight, he'll definitely fetch a high price on the market."

Thinking about the value of someone with Magnus's appearance, the second bandit couldn't help but agree. Such refined features were a rarity, seen only among the nobility. It wouldn’t even matter where they tried to sell him; they would be almost guaranteed to make a lot of money.

Meanwhile, Magnus lay hidden, focusing on controlling his breathing to be as inaudible as possible as the bandits' voices came in from the distance. His heart was pounding against his chest, a frantic tempo that it had never made before, even at his lowest points back on Earth.

The moment he had broken from their line of sight, Magnus had dived into the underbrush, pressing himself close to the ground. He hadn't realized the toll the chase had taken on him until now; his body was covered in bruises and scrapes, and every time he moved, he was reminded of that fact.

Not to mention that the slide into the bush had not only torn his clothes but also left raw, stinging abrasions on his skin.

Gritting his teeth at the pain, Magnus quickly opened up the Command Console, desperation fueling his attempts to activate it. Without hesitating, he started entering command after command into the output—anything he could remember that might work.

But after each input, the console spat back errors in glaring red, and his frustration mounted with every failed attempt. As the errors accumulated, his focus wavered, the screen's colors merging into a disorienting blur of black, white, and red.

"Damn it!" he cursed under his breath.

Why give me something like this if I can’t even use it when my life’s at stake!?

The minutes passing felt like hours as he wrestled with the console, but the rustling of leaves nearby snapped his attention back to the immediate danger. Quickly, he shut the console, his heart rate, which had just started to fall, spiking back up again. Curling up as small as he could, Magnus buried himself deeper into the bush, not even daring to breathe.

Then, through the dense foliage, he caught sight of one of the bandits, his eyes scanning the surroundings intently.

"Where did that little runt disappear to?" the bandit muttered to himself, his voice laced with irritation.

"I should've never followed that idiot out here. The last thing I need is to be left wandering these woods as night falls, stumbling into some damned monster or mana beast. That'd be worse than facing the boss when he’s angry."

Overhearing him from his hiding spot, Magnus groaned in his mind.

Of course! Of course, there have to be monsters out here, as if my situation wasn’t shitty enough. Well, that scratches out waiting here for Mia and the others, if they'd even bother to come look for me. I’ll need to make a break back towards the road once this guy’s out of sight. Assuming I can even find my way back.

So Magnus continued to wait as the bandit scoured around for him. He was getting closer by the second, checking behind every tree and in every bush. Magnus felt his heartbeat starting to echo in his ears as he heard the bandit getting closer and closer.

Please don’t find me; please don’t find me, please, for the love of God!

The bandit was so close now that Magnus could almost feel the vibrations of his steps. He was practically on top of him.

“Ugh, what’s the point? I’m never going to find him looking around randomly like this; I'm basically chasing a ghost!" The bandit kicked a stone out of frustration, sending it flying into the underbrush before letting out an exhausted sigh.

As the bandit turned around and walked by, Magnus saw a small section of his boot moving away from where he was.

Seeing that, Magnus’s tensed body finally began to relax. But then something caught his eye—a glimpse of his own torn clothing mingling with the dirt.

He hadn’t noticed it before, but it must have been left behind when he slid into this bush. And since he had the Command Console open, he didn’t even see it earlier.

“Huh, what’s that?” The bandit's eyes glanced down at the ground to his right and spotted scraps of fabric and disturbances in the dirt, all pointing back to where Magnus was currently hiding.

Without even giving him a second to piece it together, Magnus sprang up and bolted out of the bush he was in.

Caught off guard, the bandit shouted, "He's over here!"

Magnus clenched his teeth while he booked it as fast as he could. At the same time, he was yelling in his mind at the stupidity of it all.

Are you kidding me? I got caught because of some ripped cloth!? Are you fucking with me!?

Despite his initial head start, exhaustion was starting to seriously take its toll on Magnus. He could hear the sound of the two bandits hot on his trail, gaining ground on him with every step.

Scared that he would only end up slowing himself down, Magnus didn't dare veer, heading in a straight line even as he noticed the trees thinning. It was only after a couple more seconds that he noticed the ground rising beneath him—a hill.

This is bad... I'm not going to make it…

The realization hit him as his legs began to falter, a heavyweight seemingly pressing down on him, draining his remaining strength as he crested the hill.

"You fucking brat! Do you have any idea how much time you've cost us?" He heard one of the bandits bellow. Whirling around, Magnus instinctively raised his arms to protect his head, just as a sword swung, slicing a gash across his chest.

Pain exploded across Magnus's body as his eyes went wide. A scream reverberated through the air as he stumbled backward, hitting a rock with a thud.

"Agh!"

Seeing that, the other bandit smacked him across the head, scolding, "Idiot! Didn't I say we could fetch a good price for him? And now you've gone and left a gash across his chest."

The bandit who had attacked Magnus waved him off indifferently while responding, "Chill out; I didn't forget. But after making us run around like fools, I'm not letting him off easy. I'll just make sure to cut him where it won't show or leave any scars."

At this, the other bandit rolled his eyes, muttering, "You and your creepy-ass knowledge about the human body. Whatever, just hurry up."

Throughout this exchange, Magnus was barely aware of the words being spoken. The pain from the wound on his chest consumed him, a warm sensation spreading as his heart thundered in his chest, every part of him aching unbearably.

It felt as if the world was dimming out around Magnus, his vision clouding into obscurity. The forms of his assailants warped into indistinct shapes; their weapons alone remained clear, catching the sunlight in deadly flashes.

At that moment, the grim realization that he might die imprinted itself onto his mind. Images of the bandits Gerald and Marcos had killed flashed through his head—their bodies, their blood, and their organs. Those images cemented in his consciousness what death was and what was coming to him.

Yet even upon that realization, a peculiar tranquility enveloped him, his consciousness unfurling into a vast expanse where every memory and every moment of joy with his family and Wendy, alongside the trials he endured at school, sprawled out before him.

It was as if he stood before an array of screens, each replaying snippets of his life, blending into a single, overwhelming tapestry of his existence.

As one of the bandits brought the edge of their blade closer to him, threatening to breach his skin, a single memory rose above the rest. A sudden hint of clarity amidst the chaos.

"So, kinetic energy is all about the object's mass and its speed, ok? You just take half the mass and multiply it by the square of the velocity—that's the formula. And velocity itself, that's just displacement over time-" Magnus's explanation was cut off by a voice he knew all too well.

"Please, no more... I can't handle it..." Wendy groaned, collapsing onto his bed, her head disappearing into the sheets as she flung her notebook aside. Magnus, who was sitting at his desk with an open textbook, glanced over at her, a mix of amusement and annoyance on his face.

"Look, I'm with you—I'd rather be doing literally anything else. But we're on a one-way trip to Failing City if we don't wrap our heads around this," he reasoned. Wendy, face half-buried in bedding, shot him a skeptical look.

"Since when are you the 'care about failing' type?" She said with hints of skepticism lacing her voice. Magnus paused, his gaze shifting back to the textbook.

"I'm not, not really. But my parents are spending a lot of money to keep me in school. So I figured the least I can do is not flunk out and try to pass." Wendy fell silent, the jest fading from her face.

Then, with a soft smile, she sat up.

"Awl, that was actually pretty sweet. Now I just wish I'd recorded that; your parents would have eaten it up." Her tone danced between teasing and genuine warmth as she retrieved her notebook and positioned herself to actually study.

Magnus couldn't hide his surprise, a fact that didn't go unnoticed by Wendy, who rolled her eyes at his reaction.

"Don't look so shocked. We both have our soft spots, especially when our parents are concerned. Let's just buckle down and get through this, alright?" With a smirk, Magnus didn't bother to say anything.

Swiveling back to face his desk, he reopened the textbook and continued talking about what they needed to study.

Magnus observed the memory unfold, almost like an outsider looking in, hearing the banter between himself and Wendy. This was a snapshot from the past, years before his involuntary journey to another world, and represented an easier time in his life before the intensity of the bullying ramped up.

As the memory began to fade, Magnus's focus sharpened to an extraordinary degree. The surrounding world seemed to dissolve, leaving only the bandit's blade in excruciating detail before him.

It was as if his perception had deconstructed the very fabric of reality, his imagination running wild with every conceivable method of evasion, straddling the line between the feasible and the fantastical, mingling with his recollections of what he and Wendy were studying.

Then, in an instant, his vision plunged into darkness, only to be replaced by a labyrinth of white lines that, if focused on, turned into symbols too complex to comprehend.

Amidst this mental maelstrom, countless lines shifted and evolved, blurring the boundary between Magnus's vivid memories and the present crisis.

At the same time, outside of the chaos of his own mind, things took an unexpected turn. All of a sudden, both bandits found their swords suddenly immobilized, as if grabbed by some unseen force or anchored in space.

The sudden feeling of confusion they felt hardly had any time to set in, let alone the chance for them to voice it, as both of the bandit's weapons abruptly accelerated to an unfathomable degree. Almost instantly, their blades snapped under the sudden strain, breaking as if they were made of styrofoam.

As both blades shattered, their snapped-off sections whirled through the air like saw blades, and the bandit closest to Magnus was bisected before he could comprehend his fate, his life ending in a spray of blood.

Simultaneously, the second bandit also met a grisly end, his body crumpling to the ground, decapitated, and his blood painting the hilltop in stark shades of crimson.

As the white lines ceased their frenzied dance across Magnus's vision, darkness claimed him once more, enveloping his consciousness in silence.