Broken Realities: What-if

Author note at the end. Enjoy.

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[Alex's POV]

The highway stretched before him, each mile putting more distance between him and his supposed old life. The truck's radio played quietly, filling the silence, but Alex barely heard it. His thoughts were miles away.

It was a simple plan, even if it felt absurd: he'd find a remote campsite, maybe a national park, set up camp, and then focus on hiking, running, anything to keep his body in motion, to train for whatever might be coming. His eyes scanned the road signs as he mapped out his route in his head. The next stop should be the destination he found on the map, far away from the crowded areas that might put him in danger.

He still had a couple of thousands in his credit remaining while a couple hundreds in his debit card. The thought of Glen popped up but he pushed it to the side. The pain of leaving Glen behind was still there. But he whispered to himself. "Think logically. Only logic."

He decided to check in on the mission status—just to confirm that things were still moving according to the plan. He intended to see the status in his mind, yet nothing appeared in his view. 'Isn't it how it works? At least, in most work of fiction.' He thought questionably. Alex's stomach twisted. He swallowed hard, trying to shake off the unease creeping up on him.

'Maybe its verbal?' He asked himself. "Status." He muttered, yet no floating screen appeared in his sight like yesterday morning. A shiver ran through his body. "Mission status." Nothing.

A cold shiver ran down his spine. His breathing faltered as the weight of the silence settled around him. The screen, which should have appeared by now, remained absent. His heart began to race, and his fingers tightened on the steering wheel. "HUD," he whispered, his voice cracking with anxiety.

Immediately, Alex parked to the side of the highway, his eyes dazed as he looked at the road ahead with a blank mind.

"Journal."

His eyes darted over the dashboard, his mind reeling. This wasn't right. The system always responded. Always. The LITRPG novels he read, the fanfictions, the movies and series he watched. It always appeared. He saw it yesterday morning. Clear as day.

He knew what he saw. It was real. As real as it could be in this simulation.

"Log." he said, his voice trembling. "Mission log… Codex…" The words fell out of him in a desperate torrent. "Report. Status report. Status update. Progress. System check. Quest status. Data!"

Each attempt was met with the same oppressive silence. Nothing. No screen. No confirmation. His pulse hammered in his ears.

Panic began to rise like a tide, threatening to drown him. The absence of the familiar system was maddening. His breath came in shallow, rapid gasps. "Come on, come on!" he muttered, his hands slick on the wheel, his mind a frantic mess of confusion. He glanced wildly at the empty road ahead, but it was just as blank as the screen he desperately needed.

"Why isn't it working?" he whispered, barely recognizing his own voice. His hands started shaking uncontrollably. The truck felt like it was closing in on him, the air thick with dread. He fumbled for his phone, but his fingers slipped on the device and it fell out of view, unable to focus on anything. His vision blurred. His breath became quicker, shallower. His chest tightened.

He couldn't breathe.

The panic hit in full force, drowning out every rational thought. His heart thudded painfully in his chest, each beat feeling like it was going to burst him open. The world around him seemed to spin, the edges of his vision darkening.

"No, no, no..." He gasped, his throat tightening, his palms slick against the steering wheel. "This isn't supposed to happen…"

But it was happening. And there was nothing he could do to stop it.

He gasped for air, clenching his eyes shut, his chest heaving in painful desperation. The truck felt like it was closing in on him, suffocating him. He couldn't feel his limbs. His entire body was a mess of trembling, panicked energy.

"Calm down… calm down…" he whispered to himself, but his voice was distant, barely audible over the frantic beating of his own heartbeat.

His vision dimmed, his thoughts scattered. He couldn't see. Couldn't think. His body was a mess of spasms, trembling violently as the panic threatened to swallow him whole. He tried to shake it off but it came stronger than the previous.

"NO!" He shouted, voice breaking. "I CAN'T—"

He had to focus. He had to snap out of this.

The memory of the first panic attack hit him like a punch to the gut. And he knew what to do.

Pain.

Immediately, his right hand flew to his thigh and pinched with all the strength his fingernails had and pulled.

HARD.

A sharp gasp tore from his throat. The pain hit him like an electric shock, jolting his senses back to reality. His mind snapped into focus as he let go of himself finally. The numbness in his thigh and then more pain. Every time he moved. It hurt. When his pants brushed against the area, it hurt. But the advantage of it that he was now grounded. He could breathe.

His breath hitched, but he fought to steady it. His hands placed themselves on the steering wheel again, each movement deliberate, each breath measured

In… one… two… three… four.

Hold… one… two… three… four.

Exhale… one… two… three… four.

He repeated the cycle, feeling the tension gradually ease out of his chest, his body slowly, inch by inch, regaining control.

The truck was still parked on the side of the highway. The world outside was unchanged—silent, indifferent. But inside, Alex was battling to hold on to his grip on reality, as ironic as it may seem. The panic attack hadn't fully faded, but the sharp edges of it were dulling, retreating into the corners of his mind.

Taking a deep breath, he opened his eyes. The truck felt too small now, too close around him. But the engine hummed, steady and constant, and ready to continue. He left out a sigh and turned it off and got out.

He found his phone dropped under the driver's seat during the panic attack and let out another sigh. Once out, he dropped to the gravel floor and breathed the fresh air of the highway. Some cars passed by but none stopped.

He needed to know why he was suddenly having panic attacks. The first one, he had already figured out. It was the first time he has tried out his simulation ability. And so, had went with the flow. The reality of the situation, as ironic as it is, hadn't hit him yet.

And when it did. He couldn't comprehend it and the stress had reached the threshold and exploded. It was also caused by the implemented memories that was clashing on the subconscious level with his real one.

But the second attack, it came as a surprise to Alex.

He had been calm. He had been thinking logically. There had been no reason for it, no trigger. His mind kept repeating the same thought, but it was still hard to accept.

Maybe, he thought to himself, he had anchored himself to the system without even realizing it. Subconsciously, like all those characters in the stories where people became so intertwined with their world that they couldn't separate themselves from it.

Maybe, in trying to survive—trying to push forward and survive what would come—he'd clung to the system like a lifeline. And when it didn't respond… his mind shattered.

He wasn't sure.

But the anxiety was real.

The panic was real.

He inhaled deeply, tasting the dust on the wind, and let it steady him.

In… one… two… three… four.

Hold… one… two… three… four.

Exhale… one… two… three… four.

In… one… two… three… four.

Hold… one… two… three… four.

Exhale… one… two… three… four.

In… one… two… three… four.

Hold… one… two… three… four.

Exhale… one… two… three… four.

His fingers still trembled, but the tightness in his chest had loosened, and the world felt slightly more manageable. He kept his breathing steady, as best as he could. Deep, big breathes.

But he couldn't clear the thoughts swirling in his head. The panic was still there, Alex could feel it. So, he needed something to focus on. He needed to pull himself out of his head because right now, that was the issue. His head and thoughts.

His gaze fell on the phone he had dropped under the seat during the attack. He reached for it, fumbling with the device for a moment before finally gripping it tightly. The screen flickered to life as he unlocked it, and the first thing he saw made his stomach drop.

Dozens of missed calls from Glen.

He really didn't want to talk to him right now.

He shook his head. It didn't matter. He had to do something to distract himself from the noise in his head. And if that took talking to his friend, Alex would gladly take it.

He didn't want to be alone right now.

Without overthinking it, he pressed the call-back button.

The ringing tone sounded while Alex's thumb hovered over the phone, his mind racing as the call connected.

It only took a few seconds for Glen to pick up, and Alex felt his heart race again, though for a different reason now. The tightness in his chest returned, but this time, it wasn't from fear. It was from nervousness. 'Would he be mad?' He asked himself and almost scoffed.

There was a small pause on the other end before Glen's voice came through, rough, like he had been waiting for this moment for a while.

"Alex?" Glen's voice was almost hesitant. His best friend's voice hit Alex like a wave of nostalgia, and he felt a strange mix of relief and apprehension. 'Please no arguments.' he thought to himself. Finally, he swallowed, tiredness seeping into his bones. His throat felt dry.

But he'd take an argument over being alone.

He didn't want to be alone.

Not in this simulated world at least.

He didn't know what to say, so he kept it simple.

"Hello."

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Author note:

Rereading this chapter before posting, I'm surprised by myself. This chapter was far better written and had a good pace compared to the previous two. Depending on the feedback, I will return and rewrite them to be better and have a better pace. Though the contents will be the same, so old readers wont have to return to reread it.

Anyway, I hope I presented the goal of this chapter clearly and the reason for the second panic attack, which while might seem repetitive, realistically, it is possible. (Heh, funny.) By that, I mean, if you have a lot on your plate without having the skill to manage them properly, you will panic. 

And an apocalypse is a lot on mc's plate. Remember, he's a good guy, or at least, in a general term, he is. So, even strangers, on the subconscious level, he is compelled to help, like most, but chicken out at the end. Like most people. As seen with the cashier in previous chapter.

Anyway, from this point on, the pace will slow a little for "training montage" and events going on around him without his knowledge. Like symptoms of what will happen and such.

But will pick itself up in a couple of chapters later.

Hope you enjoyed, stay safe.

Author out.

PS: Cat + Saiyan meme here plz.