The Beginner's Plain stretched endlessly in every direction, its rolling green meadows dotted with luminous flowers that pulsed faintly with life. The air was crisp, carrying a subtle sweetness like spring mornings. Strange birdlike creatures flitted through the skies, leaving trails of shimmering dust in their wake. For a moment, it was impossible not to be stunned by the sheer beauty of it all.
But beauty meant little when fear tightened around the throat.
The glowing red notification still hung in Denver's vision, sharp as a blade:
[System Alert: Log Out Function Temporarily Disabled. Escape only possible after clearing Floor 50.]
The words had dropped like a hammer, and panic rippled outward almost immediately.
"What the hell does this mean?!" someone shouted nearby.
"They're joking, right? This is just part of the story tutorial!" another argued, his voice brittle with denial.
Dozens of players fumbled at the air before them, hands swiping through invisible menus only they could see. Some cursed when the logout option refused to respond, while others shouted for support staff that never came. A few forced laughter, insisting it was some kind of elaborate marketing gimmick, though their voices trembled.
Denver didn't join the noise. His hands clenched at his sides as he forced his breathing steady. His mind, sharp and methodical by nature, worked to process the information.
If this was a prank, it was a dangerous one. If it wasn't…
His stomach churned.
The thought was too much like the stories he had read years ago—fiction where VR players were trapped, forced to risk their lives for survival. Yet here it was, glowing red in front of him.
"Stay calm," he muttered under his breath. "Panicking won't change anything."
He scanned the players around him. Some were already crying. Others screamed at the sky. A group of heavily armored avatars rallied together, calling for everyone to "stay united." Denver noted the natural rise of leadership—panic always bred opportunists.
His thoughts flickered to Professor Garrison. Had the professor known this would happen? No, that was impossible… wasn't it?
Denver shook the thought aside. He needed facts, not paranoia.
The system voice returned, smooth and almost too serene for the chaos it had caused.
"Welcome, Guardians. The world of Aeloria awaits. To grow, you must fight, learn, and bond. Seek the floors above—each holds trials, treasures, and Guardians of great power. Remember: only by reaching Floor 50 may you return to your world. Good luck."
And just like that, the sky shimmered. A great spire appeared on the horizon, piercing the heavens. It glowed faintly, its presence undeniable even miles away. The sight drew gasps from the players.
"That's… the Tower," someone whispered.
Denver followed their gaze. Even from here, the colossal structure radiated authority, its endless floors stacked into the sky. It was no mere landmark—it was a promise, and a threat.
A system prompt flickered before him:
[Main Quest Unlocked: The Ascent Begins]
Objective: Reach Floor 1 Guardian Tower.
Reward: Beginner's Gear + 100 EXP.
Denver frowned. Straightforward. Almost too straightforward.
Around him, players began racing toward the distant tower. Some went in groups, forming hasty alliances. Others rushed alone, eager to be first. The Beginner's Plain became a river of bodies, avatars sprinting through the tall grass.
Denver stayed put for a moment, analyzing. The system wanted them to move toward the tower—but rushing in blindly never ended well. He knew enough about games, even if he disliked them, to understand that the fastest weren't always the smartest.
He glanced at the sky again. Artificial sun, drifting clouds, a breeze brushing his skin. It all felt so real. Too real.
He crouched, touching the grass. Each blade bent under his fingers, springy and cool. His hand came away with faint green residue, like crushed leaves.
"This is insane," he murmured. "It's… flawless."
If River.Inc had accomplished this, then Guardian Online wasn't just a game—it was a simulation bordering on reality. And now, reality itself had become the price of failure.
He straightened, exhaling slowly. "Level 10. That's all I need. Just survive long enough to hit that. Then…"
He stopped. Then what? Could he even leave at Level 10? Or was that goal meaningless now?
His professor's smug face flashed in his mind. Denver's jaw tightened. Whether or not escape came at Level 10, he refused to fail the challenge.
With that thought, he finally moved, setting off at a measured pace toward the tower.
The journey across the Beginner's Plain wasn't as empty as it looked. Strange creatures prowled the fields—rabbit-like beasts with crystalline horns, translucent foxes that shimmered in and out of sight. Most were harmless until provoked, though occasional snarls or glowing eyes hinted at predators lurking in the tall grass.
Denver kept his distance. Other players weren't so cautious.
Ahead, he watched a group of four chase after a rabbit-creature. They laughed as they surrounded it, swinging basic wooden swords. But their laughter turned to screams when the rabbit's horn flared with light, blasting one of them off his feet. The creature grew twice its size, fur bristling with energy.
Denver slowed. His instinct screamed observe first, act later.
The fight was messy. The players flailed wildly, swinging with no coordination. One collapsed as the rabbit kicked hard into his chest, sending him flying. Another's health bar drained rapidly from a glowing wound.
In the end, they managed to kill it—but only barely. Two lay groaning on the ground, their health dangerously low. The survivors cheered weakly, claiming the loot.
"Idiots," Denver muttered. "Charging in without knowing mechanics…"
Still, he stored the observation away: even harmless-looking monsters could evolve under pressure. Guardians weren't just cute companions—they were unpredictable.
As the sun dipped lower in the artificial sky, Denver reached the outskirts of the tower. A sprawling stone plaza stretched before it, filled with hundreds of players. Vendors—NPCs coded with eerie realism—offered weapons, armor, and supplies. The atmosphere was chaotic, like a festival colliding with a war camp.
Denver slipped through the crowd, keeping to himself.
He opened his menu. His inventory was nearly empty: a beginner's dagger, a plain tunic, and a handful of rations. Barely enough to fend off field monsters, let alone dungeon bosses.
"Guess I'll have to be smart about it," he muttered.
A commotion drew his attention. Near the base of the tower, a massive screen projected in the sky showed the first official dungeon raid forming. A guild calling themselves The Vanguard rallied dozens of players, boasting they would clear the first floor by sundown. Cheers and chants filled the plaza.
Denver wasn't impressed. Big numbers didn't guarantee success. He saw the overconfidence in their faces, the reckless energy. He gave them a day before half their members were dead or scattered.
He purchased a small leather satchel from an NPC vendor, storing his few supplies inside
That was when it happened.
The ground trembled. A low, rumbling growl rolled across the plaza.
Players froze.
From the shadow of the tower's gate, a creature emerged—towering, four-legged, its body plated in stone-like armor. Its eyes burned molten orange, and cracks glowed across its hide as though fire pulsed beneath its skin.
[Guardian: Lesser Magma Hound – Level 5]
The plaza erupted into chaos. Some screamed and fled, others charged recklessly. Spells and arrows flew through the air.
Denver's heart pounded. This wasn't supposed to happen—the plaza was meant to be safe.
The hound roared, slamming its claws into the ground. A shockwave rippled outward, throwing players off their feet. Those too close burst into fragments of light—dead.
Denver stumbled back, eyes wide.
His instinct screamed to run, but his mind held him frozen.
This wasn't random. This was a test.
He gritted his teeth. "Think, Denver. Think!"
The hound's gaze swept the plaza. And then—its burning eyes locked onto him.