THE NECRONOMIKIDS
Max smirked, unsheathing his favorite red pen—the one he always used for writing boss stats—and began copying the first sigil onto the Grimworld monster sheets. The pen moved like it knew the way without him. The moment the final curve closed into a circle, the basement shivered.
GOD HATES HEAVY METAL: THE ALGORITHM FEEDS
The video was everywhere, a shaky, low-light livestream. A woman in her twenties. Makeup—perfect. Ring light—glowing. She leaned toward the camera, mid-sentence.
GOD HATES HEAVY METAL: THE MAN WHO STANDS ACROSS THE STREET
There’s a man who stands across the street from my house every single night at exactly 2:17 AM. He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t move. He just stands there. Watching.