His hands shook. He tried to Alt+F4. Nothing. Ctrl+Alt+Del. Nothing. The only key that worked was the down arrow.

Act 1 wasn't long. But every step felt like wading through honey. The robotic enemies didn't attack—they just turned their heads to follow Sonic. Badniks weeping oil. A checkpoint post that displayed not his score, but his full name. His home address. The last five Google searches.

Green Hill looked… too perfect. The palm trees swayed in a wind that didn't exist. The water was unnaturally blue, almost painful to look at. And Sonic stood there, idle animation playing on loop, but his eyes weren't blinking. They were just staring. Slightly left of the camera.

And then a text box appeared. No character portrait. Just words, typed in real time:

He ran it anyway.

Sonic didn't run. He slid . Across the grass, no sound of footsteps, no ring chime when he passed through a floating gold circle. The physics were wrong—too floaty, like gravity had been turned down to a cruel suggestion.

Leo's breath caught.