According to what Alexia explained to me, I was inside a VRMMO game called Age of HellTech: Fall of Rome.
The city that looked like a Cyberpunk version of Rome was called New Rome. Yes, this franchise wasn't exactly known for creativity.
It was a game series that was already old when I was a teenager. But this version I was in, was the first to run on the BrainNet.
The fact that people connected to that thing voluntarily didn't surprise me, but it did give me an idea of how fucked up our world was.
BrainNet wasn't just a simple VR version of the regular internet. Just like you leave your computer vulnerable when you go online, on BrainNet it's your mind that's exposed.
Connecting to that shit meant giving up your last refuge of privacy. But I understood why people still chose to do it.
QuantLux had given me two days off. A "welcome bonus," to help de-stress my body after all those years trapped in battle simulations.
I had spent the last two days enjoying all the perks of a luxury apartment and fucking a hottie.
In the real world, those two days would've cost me an entire year's salary. Here on BrainNet, my bosses could gift me a "welcome bonus" since it didn't cost them anything.
Sure, you could have this kind of experience with regular VR, but it wasn't the same. BrainNet could trick your mind into believing the simulation was real.
It wasn't just the graphics that were realistic. You could smell, taste, feel the texture of things.
That lingering scent in your mustache after going down on a hottie? No regular VR could give you that.
On the morning of the third day, after a long bath, my activities in New Rome would finally begin.
The doorbell rang, and when I answered, a short guy with a girlish face was at the door.
I won't bother describing everyone. Just imagine any black-haired femboy you've seen online lately, and you get the idea.
"Mr. Sekou? My name is Luka. I'll be your analyst from now on," he introduced himself.
"Pleasure. Are we staying in, or do we have to go somewhere?"
"We can talk right here. I need to explain a few things," he said.
The kid was kind of shy and kept avoiding eye contact. He wasn't my type, but now I was in the same position Roxanne had been during our encounter.
So of course, just like she did, I was going to enjoy this little bit of power for a moment.
I sat across from him, legs wide open, body sprawled on the couch. The robe slightly open, showing some of my chest.
The guy was already as red as a tomato.
"Have you played Age of HellTech before, Mr. Sekou?" he asked, focusing on the screen floating in front of him to avoid looking at me.
"No. When I was a kid, my mom wouldn't let me play those kinds of games, and when I got older, I didn't have the time, so..."
I had a vague idea of what the game was, but I had never played it. It was famous in the e-sports world, with huge tournament audiences.
So I had seen it a bit, but never really played. And I had never really understood what I was watching when I tried.
"Well, the Age of HellTech franchise is what we call a Hero Shooter. Do you know what that means?"
I had no idea what he was talking about, but I wasn't in the mood for a long explanation.
"Yeah, sure, I get it," I lied, straight-faced.
"Well, actually, in recent versions—at least in the competitive mode—it's become more of a melee game than a shooter. But teams still need a sniper and a support to handle long-range fights."
What the hell is this kid saying? Are you guys following any of this?
"Oh yeah, makes sense," I said, still lying through my teeth.
"It also has MMORPG elements, but that doesn't matter much in tournaments, since players usually enter with maxed-out characters."
Clearly, I had a lot to learn. Why did these people buy me? Was there a mistake in my file? Did they switch mine with some pro player's?
"This version we're in now was built based on the combat android simulation program. The one you were assigned to when you were imprisoned in BrainNet."
Now it was starting to make sense.
"You're part of the 'First Hundred.' That's the name given to the people who were in that simulation since day one and stayed until now. QuantLux and the other Corps are buying rights to the 'First Hundred' hope that with the skill you've developed in seven straight years of simulation, you'll be able to awaken a special-rank talent."
Seeing my confused expression, he kept explaining.
From what I could understand, in this game there are two things that determine how powerful your character is: level and talent. There are common talents ranked from F- to A+, and special talents ranked from S- to SSS+.
In terms of base stats like Strength and Agility, a special rank is equal to an A+. But the special ranks grant unique abilities that can change the outcome of a fight.
Your character level goes from 0 to 99. That number represents the percentage of your talent you can use. It doesn't really matter in pro matches since everyone usually shows up at level 99.
To become a pro, you need to awaken at least an A+ rank talent.
Besides talent and level, there are also five classes. The classes determine your playstyle and role in the party.
The classes were: Gladiator, Pretorian, Centurian, Magus, and Archarius. Basically, Gladiators were duelists, Pretorians were controllers, Centurians were initiators, and Magus and Archarius were sentinels, whatever that means.
According to Luka, they expected me to become a Gladiator, which basically served as a DPS. As if I understood what he was talking about.
That meant I'd have the freedom to play more freely, relying more on skill than strategy.
I'm not stupid, okay? But since I knew nothing about online games, being able to just go with the flow instead of learning a bunch of crap was a relief.
All I'd have to do was go wherever my analyst—Luka, in my case—told me and kill everyone in my path without getting killed first. Easy, right?
But not everything was rosy. Luka still had a few disturbing things to tell me.
"If you can't awaken a talent of at least SS+ rank, QuantLux will consider that a breach of contract, and you'll have to pay a fine to reimburse all our expenses so far."
When Luka saw my face at that bit of news, I could see the guilt on his.
"Look, I don't like this part of the job, but it's still my job."
You could tell he was genuinely uncomfortable with it.
"In your place, I'd also keep an eye on how you use your Alexia services."
Seeing my shocked expression, he went on:
"Don't worry, we don't have recordings of what goes on inside your apartment. You can consider that a private area. But we do have access to a log of everything you do. We'll mainly monitor any activity that generates extra charges."
"We only gave you a basic Alexia plan. Those first few days were on QuantLux, as a welcome bonus. But from now on, if I were you, I would stick to... more classic activities, unless you want to drown in debt."
I would've burst out laughing at the look on Luka's face right then—if the topic weren't so serious.
A second sentence for debt would classify me as a societal risk and land me in permanent prison.
They had told me I'd already spent seven years in BrainNet, which meant I only had three years left to serve.
But that wasn't all. Luka still had more bad news.
"QuantLux will give you a six-month grace period to adapt to the game. If, in that time, you don't show potential to become a ProPlayer, you'll be transferred to the support program."
"In that case, it won't be considered a breach of contract, but you'll receive an underperformance penalty. In the support program, your only job will be to awaken special talents for other players."
"Since there's a three-month cooldown for new account creation, you'd be sent back to the combat android simulation and would only be called up by QuantLux once every three months to awaken a new talent."
Since the underperformance penalty would also lead to a second debt conviction, being sent to the support program was just as bad as being terminated.
I knew I'd regret not reading that contract carefully.
"Now that I've explained everything, we can head to QuantLux's private temple to awaken your talent."
After Luka said that, I got ready, and we left to awaken my talent.
A mix of excitement and anxiety washed over me. The fear of being trapped forever in BrainNet if I failed, clashed with the euphoria of finally living again—even if still inside a simulation—after seven years of hell.