Trafalgar, Albert, Shadow, Maxime, Arnaud, and Basse. They were sitting, each in their own way. Some nonchalantly, others focused on their phones. The atmosphere was calm. Typical of a Thursday in October, when the fading light lingered on the walls like a tired veil.

Until the fire burst forth.

"Baaam! Double kill again," Basse hissed, slamming his screen.

"Lower your voice, Yax," Trafalgar growled.

"We're not on an undercover mission here," Basse replied.

Trafalgar shrugged, smirking. He knew it annoyed her.

—And your game, Free Fire, is plastic. Call of Duty is a real simulation. Heavy, real stuff, said Albert.

"Real simulation?" Maxime interjected. "You've never made a Top 1 on Bermuda, you can tell."

"Bermuda?" Albert laughed, crossing his arms. "It looks like a summer camp island. Try Warzone, you'll see real warfare."

"You don't understand anything, Alberta," Trafalgar snapped. "Free Fire isn't just a game. It's a philosophy."

"Don't call me Alberta," Albert replied, cold as a block of ice.

"Still tense, Albert," Shadow smiled, stretching his massive arms.

The debate intensified. Voices rose, arguments flew.

"Free Fire is strategic, fast-paced, and fast-paced," Arnaud explained. "You can spend two hours wandering around Call of Duty without seeing a guy."

"You want something real? Call of Duty shows you the adrenaline rush of the field," replied Albert. "We're talking killstreaks, tactics, not running around with a laser gun."

"Wow, Free Fire isn't about laser weapons. Have you seen Scars, MP5s, Desert Eagles... it's just faster, more stylish," said Maxime.

"Stylish?!" Albert shouted. "Dude, can you wear neon yellow shorts on your character? Is that your "stylish"?"

Everyone burst out laughing.

"He's not wrong," admitted Shadow, patting Maxime on the shoulder.

"Are you serious, bro?"

"Leave it, you're alone on this colorful island," said Trafalgar.

"There you go, Shadow, you see what I'm going through," said Maxime, looking rather hurt.

"Don't call me Shadow," Shadow muttered, a little embarrassed.

"You've been Shadow since eighth grade," Arnaud reminded. "You were matrixed by The Eminence in Shadow."

"Yeah... and now it sticks to me. But I like it... I am atomic."

Trafalgar watched them. He didn't look like it, but he enjoyed these moments. These geek clashes, these passionate debates. He knew it wouldn't last. He didn't know why... but he felt it.

Something was going to change.

And it didn't take long.

"Hey guys... check this out," Maxime said, frowning. "Ever since I got my phone back yesterday, there's been a weird notification popping up all the time."

"Don't click on anything," Albert warned. "It might be a virus." "Click, click," said Basse, leaning forward. "We live in an era where you click first, then regret it."

"Maybe it's an ARG," added Arnaud. "Like a hidden game or a teaser."

"Go ahead, we'll see," said Shadow.

Maxime hesitated. A micro-vibration ran through his phone. Then another.

The screen flashed, a line of code appeared, then disappeared immediately.

"It's weird," he whispered. "It looks like it's glitched..."

He touched the icon.

The phone vibrated violently. The screen went white. A light burst out, like a silent explosion.

The room disappeared.

The tables. The sun. The world.

They fell, sucked into a digital vortex.

Their fall seemed to last an eternity. Then, abruptly... they landed. On a soft, grassy surface. The air was strange. Dense. Charged with electricity.

"Where are we?!" cried Arnaud.

"Is this a joke?!" said Maxime.

"My phone... it's not working! Not again!!" Maxime shouted.

"Yax?! Are you here?" called Trafalgar.

"Here! But dude... what's this all about?!"

Suddenly, a bluish light lit up in the sky. A hologram appeared.

A digitized man. His face was blurry. But his voice... clear.

"Welcome to ExitCode.

Your survival will depend on your strategy, your courage,

and your ability to... adapt."

Silence. Shock. The six looked at each other.

Their world had just changed!!!