RESEARCH SITE [CLASSIFIED]
LOCATION: [CLASSIFIED]
DATE: APRIL 7TH, 2031
Why does it have to be us or them? This isn't the way. Not like this.
He dashed through frantic bursts of red, klaxons screaming in his ears, white lab coat dancing beneath him – this definitely wasn't going to help his tinnitus.
Each footfall smacked against tiled floors, drops of elongated crimson following behind him, until he skidded to a halt before a set of locked doors:
LAB 068: Dr. Tetsuro Takahashi.
He fumbled a light blue keycard, now slick with red ichor, from his back pocket and swiped. The reader blinked once, then offered an innocent beep.
The hiss of the hydraulics was both a blessing and a curse because one, he was that much closer, and two, it was taking too goddamn long.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. Hurry up!
Boots. At least four – no six – hammering against the tile behind him. He was out of time.
In perfect cliché fashion, just as the first of the soldiers – clad in black tactical gear, midnight masks, rifles raised – peeled around the corner, the door slid open.
"Welcome, Dr. Takahashi."
"Not exactly the best time M.E.L.I.N.D.A." Dr. Takahashi barked back, slipping through the doors – the taste of iron accompanying every word.
The lab was just as soulless as the corridor – pristine white walls, chalky tiled floors, and the cold buzz of fluorescent lights. Silent… save for the humming stainless steel console standing atop a raised platform in the center.
Takashi bolted towards it, yanked a different card from his pocket– this one black – and slid it into the terminal.
…
"Contingency Protocol 18-65 confirmed, Dr. Takahashi, uploadi–"
"No, there isn't any time! Just take one."
"As you wish, doctor."
The console flared to life, blue radiating a brilliant blue hue, a tiny pixelated eagle flapping off-screen as the console finished loading up.
Dr. Takahashi stretched his arms out, cracked his neck, and got to work. He was completely in his element, typing away onto the console, when the intercom crackled to life.
"Stop these games Takahashi. Open the door."
"Not in the mood today," Dr. Takahashi retorted just before slamming the EXECUTE key. The console chirped in acknowledgement, and he dropped to one knee, catching his breath.
INITIALIZING…
"We will get this door open," the voice snapped. Takahashi watched on-screen as the security cam showed the soldiers strapping a charge to the entrance. "One way or another."
Upload at 24%
"No thanks, and to be honest?" He smirked. "I'm done talking to you. M.E.L.I.N.D.A, cuss him out every time he tries to talk to me."
Upload at 47%
"There's no need to be some sort of hero–"
"Fuck you," M.E.L.I.N.D.A retorted.
Upload at 65%
"Fine, just know after this I'm–"
"Fuck you, version two."
Upload at 82%
"You don't understand what you are doing, Takahashi," the voice stated – far too calm for the situation at hand.
"Alright, alright! I'm sorry!" Takahashi mocked.
"M.E.L.I.N.D.A, turn off–"
BANG!
The doors flung open. The shockwave knocked him off his feet to the floor, head crashing into the raised platform, ears ringing from the pressure differential.
The smell of smoke clung to the air, and six soldiers stormed through it, rifles raised, all trained on him. Behind them, a man in a crisp suit – leopard print tie bold against his collar – stepped inside wearing his arrogance on his shoulder.
He ignored Takahashi and went straight for the console.
Upload at 91%
A smirk.
"You were close, Takahashi. Very close. Just not close enou–"
"M.E.L.I.N.D.A override function – upload now!" Dr. Takahashi yelled.
"Affirmative, Doctor."
…
The console pinged.
Partial upload complete at 6:38 PM!
The man in the suit's smile vanished.
"I expected better."
He never saw the gun.
Only the flash.
***
6:36 PM – Bedroom – Mission Control (a.k.a Ren's bedroom)
Headset on. Lights off. Cup noodles cleared. Door locked. Aki banned from entry on threat of dismemberment (insults were hurled).
Ren lay back on his bed, cradling the sleek, jet-black Prodigal Systems visor like it was a crown. He inserted the small, rectangular disc reading: WORLD LIBERATOR, into the slot at the back of the visor.
A smooth exhale left his lips.
It's go time.
A beep sounded.
> FULL-DIVE SYSTEM: ONLINE
> CALIBRATING NEURAL LINK…
> STAND BY…
> 5… 4… 3…
His heart pounded like a drumline.
> 2… 1…
The world snapped away.
Darkness collapsed inwards –
And then –
LIGHT.
Fuck that's bright.
He sat in a seemingly endless void of blue, completely barren, save for the floating UI screen in front of him.
> WELCOME TO WORLD LIBERATOR
> PLEASE ENTER YOUR NAME…
'Ren' already sounds try hard as hell – no way someone beat me to it.
He tapped the floating keypad.
> NAME: REN
> ARE YOU SURE?
…
> NAME CONFIRMED
> WELCOME, REN.
Hell yeah.
> COMMENCING NEURAL PROFILING…
This must be the scan thing Futaba was talking about.
> SCANNING PREFRONTAL CORTEX…
> ANALYSING…
> SCAN SUCCESSFUL!
> SCANNING AMYGDALA…
> ANALYSING…
> SCAN SUCCESSFUL!
< SCANNING T-T-T-T-TEMPORAL LO…LOBE…
< ANALYSING…
> SCAN SUCCESSFUL!
> FULL SCAN COMPLETE AT: 6:38 PM, LOCAL TIME!
> ASCERTAINING MOST SUITABLE SKILL SET…
Please be something badass.
> CONFIRMED!
> YOU HAVE BEEN ASSIGNED: KNIGHT COMMANDER!
Oh yeah. That is so badass.
The screen pulsed – once, twice – then shattered into a thousand points of light.
The void beneath him trembled.
Wait–
Wind whipped past his ears.
Freefall.
His stomach dropped like he'd jumped off a cliff.
There was no ground. No sky. Just velocity.
He tumbled through light, sound, heat, cold – like the game couldn't decide what sensation to hit him with next. His body twisted and reeled, limbs weightless, thoughts scattering like leaves in a storm.
And then–
THUMP.
Pressure hit. Hard. His spine jarred. Breath gone.
He landed hard, dust kicking up around him, knees hitting hard enough to sting.
His vision blurred, then blinked into clarity.
They weren't lying. The pain absorber in this game is super low – and that was just the load in sequence.
The air hit him first: cold, sharp, thin. Every breath left a faint curl of mist. It might've felt clean if it weren't for the cloying scent of burning wood and the unmistakable smell of iron – likely from the many stalls scattered around the encampment.
The UI gave an innocent ping:
> LOCATION: CAMP COLUMBUS, FORWARD OPERATING BASE, EASTBOARDEN MOUNTAINS – SOLARIS 137
Ren glanced around.
A camp, clearly. Built quick, and probably not meant to last.
Weird choice for a starting point. Why not a city or something? Then again, I guess it is called World Liberator: this fits the whole "quest for freedom" thing.
And it was clear who had built it – the players. Tents stitched from canvas and hide flapped in the mountain wind, pitched crookedly between a lurching watchtower and a massive wooden penis.
Yep. I'm definitely still in VR. No doubt about it.
It was crowded, too – painfully so. Players were everywhere. Huddled around fires, arguing with merchants – who also appeared to be players. Forming messy lines for quest boards. Party invite requests flickering overhead like sparks.
Just a raw, chaotic flood of bodies and noise.
Did they really dump everyone into one server?
Looks like it.
… And seriously, why are there so many goddamn birds?
They flitted along rooftops, circled the watchtowers, and perched on everything — tents, trees, even the top of the wooden penis.
Weird detail to program in. I guess the devs were really into birds.
The UI pinged again:
> CLASS ORIENTATION AVAILABLE
> INITIATE?
> YES / NO
Ren raised a brow.
Skipping it would be way too try hard – even for me.
He hit YES.
The other players faded into obscurity, replaced by a shimmering figure clad in radiant armor – not quite real, not quite ghost. A projection. In a slow, deliberate motion the knight placed a gauntleted fist on his chest – a salute? – then began to speak in a voice that was deep, formal, and totally pre-recorded.
"Knight Commander. You are the sword and the voi–"
> SKIP
"Yeah, sorry knight dude, I don't really care," Ren muttered whilst tapping skip.
"Forged of iron wi–"
> SKIP
"Your experience spans deca–"
> SKIP
"Gifted with the skills of the legendary knight Sir Cas–"
> SKIP
"Your signature ability–"
> SKIP
Crap. That seemed important.
> CLASS ORIENTATION COMPL–
"Uh, system UI lady, how do I go back?"
…
"Lady? Hello? Undo? Crap, how do you rewind–"
> BACK
"Oh. Thanks."
"Your signature ability reflects your iron will; your status as the immovable rock on the battlefield…"
Wouldn't have wanted to skip the cool stuff.
"Signature ability: 'Steelthorn Lockdown'. Seize control of the battlefield with a devastating burst of power. To activate, plunge your sword into the earth. Upon activation, the ground fractures open, birthing writhing metal vines from the earth below. These tendrils seek out enemies on their own – snaring, skewering, and silencing them where they stand."
Hell yes. Haruki is going to flip when I tell him about this tomorrow.
> CLASS ORIENTATION COMPLETE
> STEEL SWORD ADDED TO INVENTORY
> IRON CHESTPLATE ADDED TO INVENTORY
> + 15 PELDS
> SIGNATURE ABILITY: STEELTHORN LOCKDOWN ADDED TO ABILITY TREE
> RECOMMENDED ACTIONS: ENROLL IN BASIC SWORDSMANSHIP TRAINING
That's a no, thanks. I'm pretty used to this VRMMO stuff.
The fog of the solo instance lifted. The camp snapped back into view – players flickering in, noise and motion rising like a tide.
Another ping lit up the corner of Ren's UI.
> SOLO QUEST AVAILABLE
> EXTERMINATE: SNOWBACK RAIDERS
> OBJECTIVE: ELIMINATE SIX ORC GRUNTS
> LOCATION: SANCREACH VALLEY – EASTBOARDEN MOUNTAINS
> REWARD: 350XP | 2x HEALTH POTIONS | HARVESTABLE MAGIC CRYSTALS
> DIFFICULTY: EASY-MEDIUM
> DIFFICULTY DISCREPANCY: 35%
> STATUS: [UNCLAIMED]
"Medium?" Ren scoffed. "So like… tutorial-plus?"
He accepted the quest, and a tan scroll appeared in his hand. He placed it in his inventory, and, through a break in the camp walls, started making his way towards the waypoint.
The terrain dipped and rose like a frozen wave – pine trees, jagged rocks, and a low fog curling around his boots – and it all led him to a cave.
Classic cliché cave dungeon crawl. Oh well – time to kick some ass.
The mouth of the cave loomed like a yawn in a rock, stale breath curling out faint wisps of heat. Ren stepped in, letting his eyes adjust.
Should have brought a torch.
He moved deeper, boots crunching over loose stone, until a soft, flickering glow caught his eye.
There you are.
He crept forward. The cave widened into a crude alcove, where a small fire sputtered in a ring of cracked, glistening stones.
Three shapes shuffled around it – orc grunts. Thick-limbed, tusked, axes slung over their shoulders. Their guttural orcish babbling sounded more like coughing than speech.
Ren let out an exhale, rolled his shoulders, and spun his sword once in his hand.
"Alright boys," he said, stepping into the light. "Let's make this quick."
An orc charged. Ren stepped to the side, let momentum carry it past, then drove his sword into its back with one clean motion.
> 1/6 ELIMINATED
Two left.
They came together, one slower than the other.
The first one came lunging in.
CLANK!
He took a hit on the chest.
Shit!
Nervously, he glanced at the damage.
Alright, it just caught the armour.
Ren retaliated with a wide slash, cutting the first one open.
> 2/6 ELIMINATED
The second raised its axe –
FWOOSH
Duck. Thrust. Twist the blade free.
> 3/6 ELIMINATED
Ren looked at his reflection in one of the shining stones.
God, I'm awesome.
The next few skirmishes were the same. Predictable patterns. Reckless enemies. He took some hits, missed a few parries – but nothing ever got out of hand.
> 4/6 ELIMINATED
…
> 5/6 ELIMINATED
…
> 6/6 ELIMINATED
> OBJECTIVE COMPLETE
> + 350XP
> 2X HEALTH POTIONS ADDED TO INVENTORY
Third win of the day.
> WARNING: ORC BRUTE INCOMING
Huh? That wasn't on the–
THUMP!
A rush of wind shot past Ren as the club barely missed him.
"ROARRRRR"
Ren turned around – it loomed over behind him, casting a nasty shadow.
Huge. Ten feet tall. An ugly, bloodied club in one hand, a rusted cleaver in the other.
Spiked pauldrons, cracked tusks, and one eye, milky white.
> ORC BRUTE [THREAT LEVEL: MEDIUM]
"Wow, you sure are ugly," Ren taunted whilst making distance. "You don't see your buddies? I took all of them out. And now? I'll take you–"
The brute let out a roar and charged.
Way to interrupt my main character moment.
Ren tensed, narrowly sidestepped the first blow and dragged his sword across its ribs, it bit, but not deep enough.
Okay, maybe this isn't too good.
It swung again – faster than expected. He blocked – barely – but the force knocked him off balance.
His back hit the cave wall.
A groan.
Ouch, a pain absorber sure would be nice right around now.
Alright brute-guy, time to rodeo.
Ren spun his sword – inverting it – then plunged it into the ground.
"Steelthorn Lockdown!"
…
Nothing happened.
"Uh? Steelthorn Lockdown!" Ren repeated.
> ERROR: PREREQUISITES NOT MET
"Wait, what do you mean prereq–"
CRASH
He hardly dodged that blow, but the follow-up wasn't so lucky – catching his side and sending him hurling towards the ground. Cold stone slammed into his temple.
I should definitely report this.
> REPORT RECEIVED
> CASE ID: #381
> THANK YOU FOR YOUR FEEDBACK.
Great.
A shadow loomed.
He twisted to roll – too slow.
The brute raised its club.
And brought it down.
***
Black.
Not death-black, Ren thought – just that flat, ringing-stillness kind of black. Like being underwater.
Then – an unfamiliar voice stirred. Gravelly. Measured. Irritated.
"Hm. This… is strange. Why can I not move?"