The world shattered into golden light, then snapped back into focus as an ancient temple, suspended in a star-filled void, surged into existence.
A radiant hologram flared to life, an angel with shimmering wings, eyes blazing like twin suns, standing before Jason in silent welcome.
She introduced the world, the basic mechanics, and the twelve main classes.
Jason didn't hesitate.
He chose the Blademaster, the class he had perfected over a decade.
He chose the name Aethel, sharp, regal, and battle-ready.
A single word to carve into legend, a declaration of war on the world he was about to conquer.
He altered his appearance by 15%, just enough to vanish from the memories of old enemies, yet still see a trace of himself in the mirror.
When the system prompted him to choose a starting zone, he didn't hesitate—Crimsonleaf Village, the blood-soaked gateway to Silverstream City.
A place where danger lurked behind beauty, and low-level mobs had a taste for fresh players.
He grinned.
Perfect.
Crimsonleaf was a haven for lone wolves, a wild frontier untouched by the suffocating grip of the major guilds.
Here, players carved their own fate or died trying.
He materialized in the heart of the village square, surrounded by noise, chaos, and the clatter of steel on cobblestone.
The game had begun.
The world was more beautiful than he remembered.
The air smelled of fir and roasting meat.
NPCs bustled through the streets, their eyes sharp with uncanny intelligence, trading words that flowed like real conversation, unscripted, unpredictable, and all too human.
Dozens of fresh players in dull gray starter gear scattered across the square, some badgering NPCs for quests, others bolting straight into the wild like panicked prey.
Jason took a moment to just breathe it in.
Then, he opened his stat panel.
[Aethel]
Level: 0
Class: Blademaster
HP: 100/100
Attributes: Strength 5, Agility 3, Endurance 4, Intelligence 2, Vitality 2.
Free Attribute Points: 4
Most newbies, especially melee types, poured all their points into Strength, chasing early damage like moths to a flame.
It was the common wisdom.
It was also wrong.
Without hesitation, Jason sank all four points into Agility, lean, fast, and built to strike before anyone else could blink.
His Agility jumped to 7.
This was the secret.
In the early game, attack speed and movement speed were king.
Faster strikes meant higher damage over time. Faster movement meant sharper positioning, and staying alive when others fell.
A notification chimed.
It was Jay.
"Dude, where are you? This place is insane!" Jay's voice crackled through comms, caught between wonder and pure exasperation.
"I'm in a place called Murkwood.
"I've already been slapped by three giant mosquitoes, and I'm pretty sure one of them stole my starting bread!"
Jason chuckled.
"I'm in Crimsonleaf Village.
Get over here.
It'll take you about eight hours, but it'll be worth it."
"Eight hours?! I'll be so far behind!" Jay wailed.
"Trust me," Jason said, his tone leaving no room for argument.
"I know a way to make up for that lost time, and then some.
Consider it inside information."
Trusting Jason's unshakable confidence, Jay let out a resigned sigh and began the long trek without another word.
Jason's eyes scanned the town square.
A swarm of new players clustered around the guard captain, a burly man named Marcus, as he barked out the usual beginner chores, kill 10 Wild Boars, gather 5 Sun-Kissed Berries.
They were slow, boring, and offered pitiful rewards.
Jason had no time for that.
He was hunting for bigger game.
His gaze fell upon a figure no one else was paying attention to.
By the central fountain sat an old man named Alaric, clothed in rags, eyes hollow with silent despair, as if the world had long forgotten him.
A few kind-hearted players had tossed him a copper or two, but Alaric didn't react, just stared past them, lost in some unreachable void.
They quickly dismissed him as a broken, purely cosmetic NPC.
Jason knew better.
He walked over, ignoring the stares of other players.
He didn't offer money.
Instead, Jason opened his inventory, pulled out one of his ten pieces of starting bread, and silently offered it to the old man.
"You look like you could use this more than me, old-timer," Jason said, his voice soft.
For the first time, a faint spark stirred in Alaric's lifeless eyes, like a memory trying to wake.
He slowly reached out with a trembling hand and took the bread.
He took a slow bite, chewing like it was the first real meal he'd had in years, savoring every crumb.
He looked up at Jason, his gaze sharp and lucid.
"Kindness," Alaric rasped, his voice thin and cracked, "is a rarer coin than gold, young man."
He leaned closer.
"The man who runs this town, Mayor Valerius… he is not what he seems.
He hosts a grand banquet tonight at the Town Hall.
A… special vintage will be served from a ceremonial cask.
"If, say… someone caused a little commotion, and the wine were to spill, something wicked might finally show itself," Alaric murmured, eyes glinting with quiet intent.
Expose Mayor Valerius's secret at the banquet tonight.
Time Limit: 4 hours.>_
Jason smiled.
This was it.
The unique quest that would set him miles ahead of everyone else.
But just as he turned toward the Town Hall, a massive figure stepped into his path, casting a long, unwelcome shadow.
It was a fellow Warrior, clad in the same bland starter gear, but his sneer was all brute swagger and cheap dominance.
His name, Slabjaw, floated above his head.
"Hey, newbie," Slabjaw grunted, flexing his biceps.
"I saw you got some coppers from that first quest. Hand 'em over. Consider it a 'new player tax.'"
Jason just raised an eyebrow.
"Tax? Funny, I don't remember electing you."
Slabjaw's face turned red.
"You got a smart mouth, huh?" He unslung the massive novice axe from his back.
"I'll teach you some respect!"
He charged forward, hurling his axe in a wild, heavy arc, more force than finesse.
To the other Level 0 players, it was a terrifying attack.
To Jason, it was happening in slow motion.
He took a single, precise step to the side.
The wind from the heavy axe shrieked past his ear, missing him by an inch.
Before Slabjaw could recover his balance, Jason moved.
He was a blur, his 7 points in Agility making him impossibly fast.
He didn't even use his sword yet.
He pivoted hard, boots grinding against the dirt, and hurled his fist forward, backed by the full force of his body like a coiled spring unleashed.
"BOOM!"
The punch held no magic, but when it landed, it hit like a muffled explosion, raw and brutal.
It connected squarely with Slabjaw's gut.
A visible ripple of force went through the larger man's body.
The air wrenched from his lungs in a sharp gasp as he staggered back—three, four, five steps, eyes wide with stunned agony.
He felt a deep, vibrating force run straight through his bones.
"Wha—?" he wheezed.
He never got to finish.
Jason was already in motion again.
His starter sword, plain, unremarkable, moved like part of him, guided by instinct and sheer intent.
He used his first skill.
[Chop!]
The blade sliced through the air, leaving a faint silver trail.
He didn't go for Slabjaw's chest, instead, he struck the leather strap securing the shoulder guard, targeting the weak point with ruthless precision.
The sword landed with a silenced thud, dealing just 8 damage, but the force of the blow, combined with the earlier punch, was enough.
Slabjaw's Health bar, still nearly full, barely moved.
But his pride was shattered.
He was a big, strong Warrior, yet this skinny Blademaster had just danced around him and knocked the wind out of him with a single punch.
Humiliated and frightened by Jason's impossible speed, Slabjaw turned and fled, dropping 3 Copper Coins in his panic.
Jason calmly bent down and picked up the coins, a faint smirk on his face.
"A new player tax," he muttered to himself.
"Guess it's time to pay the mayor a visit."
He turned and walked towards the magnificent Town Hall at the end of the street, its doors flanked by two imposing Level 25 guards. The banquet, and his future, awaited.