It was 4:27 PM on a Saturday, three minutes before the destruction of the Brockdale Shopping Centre, and I was being yelled at by a customer.

  "You don't understand," he wailed, leaning on my store's customer service desk like an actor overselling it at a Hamlet audition. "I need that flour today. To-day!"

  "We're sold out of that brand, sir," I said. "You could try another—"

  "You don't understand! I need that flour! What don't you get?!"

  I let that slide off me. I worked at the Brockdale Gateway, an infamous supermarket in the Sydney suburbs. My manager would fit an entire boot in his mouth if a customer asked, and that attracted terrible people like flies. You had to know how to tank this stuff to last long here.

  This particular customer was a spotty young man with messy blonde hair, who gave off the impression that his mum had handled all his shopping until about twenty minutes ago. I tried to break the news gently.

  "As I said, sir, we don't have that specific flour in stock. Nothing I can do about that."

  Hamlet held his hands up like he was milking a giant cow. "You don't understaaand! Check the back!"

  "If we had any stock in the back, we'd have put it in the front. So we can sell it," I added, in case his parents hadn't told him how shops work.

  "Can't you just check the back? You don't understand!"

  I gave up. "Alright. If it makes you feel better, I can go check the back to confirm we don't have any secret flour."

  "Finally, he understands!" Hamlet cried to the heavens, as I went straight to the break room.

  My name is Will, I am twenty-something years old, and I really should think about quitting.

  Up until recently, my goal was to become a teacher. Then I dropped out of university to help care for a grandparent, and by the time that was over I'd realised I'd rather put my foot down a wolf's throat than back in a classroom. I was saving up to return to studying, but I hadn't figured out what to do next. Until I did, my life was in a holding pattern of video games and retail work.

  I must have put the wrong keywords on my resume or something though, because the only place that accepted my application was a supermarket with a 180% turnover rate.

  At least 50% of that turnover was the break room door. Our manager Jerry agreed to trial a gadget that was supposed to improve staff morale, so now there was a high-tech scanner mounted over the frame. If it didn't detect a nice big smile, it wouldn't open.

  Bzzt! "Come on, show us that customer smile!" it chirped as I approached.

  Jerry had sent the staff a selfie of the kind of smile the door wanted to see. Several people quit immediately. Those that didn't saved it to their phone and held it up to the camera, like I was doing.

  Click. "There you go! Have a wonderful day!"

  The break room was a windowless box with fluorescent lighting, a perpetually half-empty vending machine, some dented lockers, and framed motivational posters Jerry had made using memes from the 2000s (20% turnover, not including the part of orientation where he explained each one individually).

  I grabbed a can of soft drink and sat down under a poster of an owl saying "Can't work more hours? O RLY?". I had to wait a few minutes or risk being accused of not really looking. Little moments like this got me through the day.

  "Haah... can't wait to get home."

  That's when the message appeared.

  A text box flickered into life over the break room table like a hologram. A loud voice, even more obnoxious than the door, boomed out of nowhere and read it aloud:

  [ CONGRATULATIONS! Your ZETTAMALL? application has been successful!

  Store: BROCKDALE SHOPPING CENTRE, AUSTRALIA ]

  I almost dropped the can. "What the hell?"

  A cake emoji popped into life in a shower of confetti, then the message continued.

  [ Loading the tutorial... ]

  Space twisted, and a creature popped into existence on the table.

  It looked like your standard fantasy goblin—big ears, short, goblin-looking—but it wore a purple polo shirt, an apron, and shorts. Before I could process that, it drew a knife and lunged at me.

  "KREEE!"

  I lashed out. "Aaah!"

  Smack! The little bastard dropped the knife and stumbled backward, possibly out of surprise. I wasn't about to check.

  Panic surged through my veins. I lurched over the table and swung the can down before it could get up.

  CRUNCH.

  It stayed down.

  [ You have defeated a Shoplin! ]

  [ +1 EXP! +$10! ]

  A dollar sign briefly flickered over the body before disappearing. More windows popped up, but I was too busy losing my mind to read them. Couldn't hear anything either, besides my heart pounding.

  "What the fuck was that?" I gasped.

  I finally picked up on the sound of screams from within the store.

  "Aaah!"

  "What the... H-help!"

  "Whose children are these?! MANAGERRR!"

  I gripped my can and rushed out of the break room.

  The store was in chaos.

  I stepped out between the fridges at the back of the store. All around me, customers were fleeing as shoplins trashed the aisles.

  To my left, a pair of shoplins sat by a fridge and blasted bottles of milk into their faces like it was victory champagne. Another to my right was doing the floss over some poor old lady, who lay on the floor with knives in her back. Blood and milk pooled at my feet.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  This time, I noticed the health bars floating that appeared over their heads when I stared at them. Each one had a little goblin-head icon and a name.

  [ SHOPLIN, Lvl. 1 ]

  The flossing one spotted me and drew another knife. "KREEE!"

  I threw the can. It didn't work, but it bought me enough time to open a fridge door and use it like a shield. The charging shoplin slid into the inner door, and I lurched forward again.

  Slam!

  I threw my weight into the door and forced the goblin inside the fridge, squishing it into a shelf.

  The two shoplins behind me scrambled to their feet and rushed forward, wielding milk bottles. "Yaaah!"

  I turned and lashed out with a foot, kicking the first one as hard as I could. It wasn't the best idea—my other foot slipped on the milk, and I went crashing down.

  "Oof!"

  The second shoplin slipped too, but it recovered first. It grinned evilly, climbed onto my torso, and started hitting me in the face with the bottle.

  Smack! Smack! Smack! "Yah! Yah! Yah!"

  It hit me in the eye. My vision swam, but I swung an arm and knocked it into the fridges. That didn't do a lot to its health bar—I could ask why they even had bars later—so I scrambled onto my knees, opened the fridge door, and forced its head inside.

  SLAM! SLAM!

  That was enough. Pink blood sprayed on my slacks.

  The shoplin I'd pushed into the fridge was climbing out, waving a knife. Before it was completely out, I lurched to my feet and slammed my weight into the door again.

  CRUNCH!

  [ You have defeated two Shoplins! ]

  The one I'd punted was a few aisles away, retrieving its dropped knife. I decided to just run. One of my eyes was throbbing, everyone nearby was dead, and I wasn't sure the break room door would let me in fast enough.

  "What the hell is this?!" I shouted at nobody.

  I raced down the nearest aisle, ducking past the shoplins dancing on the top shelves. Some leapt out at me, but I threw them off and kept going. Others just jeered and threw raisins, as if they knew I was screwed and weren't in a hurry. Maybe that's why I made it through.

  The front of the store wasn't much better. Customers lay bleeding on the floor. More shoplins were charging out of the aisles. Some survivors were fighting them with whatever they had to hand, but most were making for the exits.

  One of my coworkers raced over. "Will! You're okay!"

  It was Kara the cashier, a friend of mine. She was a cheerful woman with long brown hair and a smile that could reliably enter the break room without help—retail hadn't killed her spirit yet. This was a weird time to be wearing it though. Pink blood was splashed across her apron and dripping from the box cutter in her hand.

  I tried to calm down a little. My body hurt, but the cold milk was helping. "I'm fine! Are you okay? What's happening?"

  "I'm fine," she said, grabbing my arm. "Come on, let's go!"

  A line of three wide roller shutters opened Gateway to the rest of the mall, but the low wall of the self-service checkouts blocked the middle one and some of the other two, turning them into bottlenecks. Kara used me as a battering ram.

  The exits opened onto the first level of one of Brockdale's plazas. To our south was a wide expanse of smooth tile, dotted with pillars and benches. An open space in the middle reached up three levels to the ceiling, lined by glass balustrades; long escalators criss-crossed our side of the concourse, and arcade games and an ice-cream stand sat beside them. Screams rang out from every floor.

  Shoplins were chasing people, dancing on corpses, and throwing ice cream like snowballs. One shoplin had somehow appeared inside a claw game, and his companion was playing it in an attempt to free him.

  I froze. "Holy shit!"

  "What the heck is all this..." Kara murmured.

  Another coworker was up ahead. Chaz was a high-school buddy, a big man with short blonde hair who had to wear long shirts because customers complained about his anime warrior tattoos. He was standing near the escalators, dangerously close to the shoplins, staring past them at the ceiling.

  I hurried over. "Chaz, it's not safe out here. Come on, we have to—"

  I saw it too.

  The plaza's ceiling was lined with windows, to let sunlight in. We could glimpse some of them from this angle, but we couldn't see sunlight any more. Instead, a blue nebula blazed across a starry sky.

  Even with adrenaline surging through my body, I had to stop and stare.

  We stood there for a moment, lost for words. Then Chaz tore his eyes away to look at me.

  "Bro... I think we've been isekai'd."

  Above us, blood-stained shoplins pressed themselves against the escalator's glass wall and leered down at us.

  I took a step back. "Maybe the store is safer..."

  Other shoplins began hurling bodies from the higher floors. Most of them were dead, but one unlucky bastard on the third floor was still screaming as he fell.

  "Crap!" I turned and ran as the bodies hit the floor. The escalator blocking our view was a small mercy.

  Most people who had fled the store had the same idea. It wasn't hard to see why: Shoplins who had run out of prey in the other stores were pouring into the plaza, waving bloody knives. Other stores that had prevailed against the shoplins were racing to close up. There was nowhere to go but back.

  The shutters were already closing. It was the loss prevention guy, Sanjay, an older man whose main job until now was glaring at kids. He was at least smart enough to close them slowly.

  Kara stood by the entry gates on the east side and shouted. "EVERYONE BACK INSIDE!"

  I spun around quickly to survey the scene. Some people had chosen to run for the mall exits, but most were coming back. Chaz had only stopped staring when the shoplin crawling out of the claw machine started hissing at him, and now he was running behind me.

  I stood under the east shutter to keep it open. "Come on!"

  Chaz ran. A handful of people from other stores came charging in behind him, followed by bloodthirsty shoplins. More shoplins were charging down the escalators to reach us, some even throwing themselves off in their excitement.

  A customer who'd just passed me turned and screamed. "HONEY!"

  I followed her gaze. At some point she'd lost her grip on her kid, and he'd been knocked to the floor as the crowd swept by. Everyone else streamed past the child in a panic—one man even stepped over him.

  I ran out. No way in hell was I going to add "screaming child" to the list of today's horrors.

  A squad of shoplins in party hats tumbled out of a variety store on the east side, wielding plastic forks like deadly weapons. I could definitely make it in time, but—

  The man who'd stepped over the kid shoved me as I passed him. "MOVE!"

  I stumbled, tripped, slid.

  But I managed to slide closer to the kid.

  I grabbed the kid by his shirt and hauled him off as fast as I could. My knee screamed. My heart pounded. A shoplin threw a claw game toy at me.

  The middle roller was closing again. Chaz crouched down and held out a hand.

  "I got you, bro!"

  I stumbled again. My knee buckled. I was slowing down. I wasn't going to make it.

  "Screw it!" I yelled, and bowled the kid across the floor. Chaz grabbed him and yanked him under the shutter.

  "Staff door!" I veered left.

  At the west end of the shutters was a glass staff door. Kara was already racing to open it. If I could make it...

  I hurried there in a loping gait that favoured my good foot. I could hear the shoplins gaining on me.

  The door wasn't opening. Kara was struggling. You used to only have to enter a keycode, but now...

  Bzzt! "Come on, show us that customer smile!"

  "Are you KIDDING me?!" Kara shouted.

  A knife whirled past. They couldn't be far now.

  I reached the door. "Come on, come on!"

  Click. "Have a wonderful day!"

  Chaz threw the door open and stepped out, fire extinguisher in hand.

  "Omae wa shindeiru!"

  I threw myself through the door as Chaz blasted the shoplins. They coughed and staggered in a cloud of powder, and Chaz followed me inside before they could recover.

  The customer service desk was nearby. I slumped against it, gasping for breath. The shoplins banged fruitlessly against the door and screamed.

  We'd made it.

  "Holy shit... holy shit... "

  A shadow fell over me. I looked up and saw Hamlet.

  "So, did you find my flour?"