Feeling a faint breath of fresh air and hearing the noisy bustle of people, Adam opened his eyes.
The first thing his green eyes took in was a marketplace packed with hundreds of people around him, all looking about as confused as he was.
Damn… I didn't expect them to change how players synchronise with the game, Adam thought, taking a few steps forward and trying to push through the crowd.
"Whose brilliant idea was it to have the synchronisation happen inside a whale's stomach…? That was disgusting," grumbled one player nearby, clutching his belly as if afraid he might throw up at any moment.
Hearing him, a young-looking girl frowned at him. "A whale's stomach? What are you on about? Mine was in a meadow full of flowers and fairies."
"What are you two saying? Synchronisation clearly happens in a cemetery through a ritual of the dying," another young player replied, blinking at them both.
"Huh? What ritual? Isn't it just done through that avatar-creation mirror?"
"Mine was in a warm bath."
As more and more players began swapping stories about how their synchronisation had gone, Adam finally squeezed his way out of the throng.
So everyone experienced a different Synchronisation… I wonder if that'll affect the player later, or maybe the skills they can learn, he thought, glancing back at the group trading details of their visions.
"I'd love to listen longer, but there's no time to waste. I need to grab the best early grinding spots and get a head start," he muttered, turning away from the player-filled square.
He drew a deep breath, quickened his pace, and broke into a run, feeling the uneven stones of the old road underfoot - its best days clearly long past.
Movement coordination is still the same… no delay, no lag. Exactly like moving in real life, not a game, Adam thought, a light wind brushing his hair.
Running from the square along the main street, he looked around at the empty roads and pavements - no sign of life anywhere.
The only things to see were grey stone buildings, nearly identical one after another.
As he passed yet another of those copy-paste façades, Adam stopped abruptly and looked down a side alley to his right.
His green eyes lifted to a balcony on the building beside the alley. Hanging there was a black carpet with a gold-embossed crest: a golden rose on black.
"This should be it," he whispered, and turned confidently into the narrow lane.
It was damp and cool; the worn cobbles had lost all their shine.
Thin threads of moss grew between the stones, and rusted, battered gutters hung from the neighbouring walls.
Walking the alley, Adam kept his gaze turned upward, scanning windows with their rusty curtain fixtures.
His eyes lingered on one curtain that looked just like the rest - except for a small detail: the logo of a golden rose.
At that, Adam's eyes lit up. He lowered his gaze to the ground and spotted an ordinary green rubbish bin, nothing remarkable about it.
Without hesitation he hurried over and lifted the bin's brown lid.
Surprisingly, instead of rubbish, the bin held a pair of high heels. Adam bent over, reached in, and took hold of both heels with his right hand. He shut the lid and set the matching shoes down to look them over.
They were black as a night sky after rain - smooth, glossy, without the slightest scratch. The heels seemed almost fragile, yet for some reason gave an impression of strength. The leather was plain - no ornaments, no pattern - just a perfection of simplicity that made it hard to look away.
He nodded slightly, then raised his left hand to cover his left eye and said, "Item status."
A system line floated above the black heels: [Special Item]
Seeing this, Adam smiled, lowering his left hand toward the shoes again.
As he uncovered his eye, the system message above the heels faded out.
Looks like other than the synchronisation method, not much changed. These heels are still in the same place as in the beta, he thought, pinching them lightly between the fingers of his left hand.
"Inventory," Adam said under his breath, looking forward.
A blue system hologram appeared, showing thirty empty item slots.
He reached out with his right hand and tapped the first free slot icon, then looked back at the shoes.
The black heels vanished from his left hand. In their place, the hologram showed a tiny icon of black heels in the first slot - identical to the pair he'd just held.
He gave a small nod, then clicked the "x" in the top-right corner.
The blue hologram blinked out as if it had never been there.
That's all I need from this spot and from the starter city. I know there are a few other items here, but I never managed to get reliable info on them… Adam thought, casting one last look at the bin before turning back the way he'd come.
"Right, now to the shop, buy a basic weapon and some apples, then I can go..." He didn't finish. A sharp cry sounded above him.
Short, but full of panic - and a childlike thrill. Instinctively, Adam tilted his head up.
"What the..."
He didn't get to finish the sentence. A black shape dropped out of the sky and crashed onto his back, knocking the breath clean out of him.
Thud!
They both hit the cobbles, a puff of dust and moss grit bursting up around them.
At the same time, a system message popped up over Adam's character:
[Player is in a Safe Zone -0 HP]
"Ow -my leg…" someone groaned above him.
Adam turned his head with effort. Sitting on his back was a young man with brown hair in a linen shirt and… an old, slightly faded black top hat that, somehow, had stayed on his head.
"What on earth are you doing?!" Adam snarled, pushing up on his elbows to shake the newcomer off.
"Erm… testing gravity?" the stranger replied, getting to his feet and adjusting his hat with the expression of someone who'd just given the stupidest, and somehow most logical - explanation possible.
He looked Adam in the eye and, in an utterly serious tone, declared, "Seems gravity works in this game."
Adam stared at him in silence for a moment, trying to work out what on earth the man was talking about.
The brown-haired boy glanced around the alley, trying to get his bearings.
"This is much more realistic than I expected. I just don't understand why there aren't any NPCs or other characters to hand out quests."
Adam sighed, a touch of irritation slipping into his voice. "Because there are no NPCs in this game. Or quests. Everything here is player-driven. So you won't find your typical MMORPG NPCs."
"Huh?! No NPCs? But isn't that the whole point of an MMO - go to an NPC, get a quest, do the quest, get EXP or gold?" the man asked, genuinely bewildered.
"The creator believes NPCs break immersion. So instead of NPCs, players can post commissions and tasks for others. The system verifies them and boosts the rewards."
"Players… give quests?" the man repeated, frowning as if that were a foreign language.
Seeing he hadn't got through, Adam thought for a second and offered a simple example:
"Imagine you're a blacksmith and you want to forge an OP sword. You need materials - say, a super-rare drop: a 'Dragon Claw'. But as a smith, you haven't got the skills or strength to get it yourself. So you create a task through the system. It analyses the difficulty and requires you to stake an appropriate payment in coins or items of similar value. Then the system adds another sixty percent on top as a bonus for whoever completes it, plus a suitable amount of EXP based on difficulty."
The man mulled that over, then nodded slowly. "So the system acts as a mediator between players, telling me - say, as a blacksmith, how much I need to deposit for the task to appear, and then a more combat-focused player can accept it."
Noting that he was beginning to understand, Adam nodded. "Something like that."
"But there's one thing I don't get," the man said, scratching absently at a light three-day stubble, brow creased. "What's the point of the whole setup? As a blacksmith, couldn't I just ask a friend, 'Oi, fetch me dragon claws, I need them for a sword'? Why bother with some system task?"
"There are two simple reasons. First, it helps solo players, your commission becomes visible to everyone. Second, it's a quality-of-life feature."
"Quality-of-life?" the man echoed, uncertain.
"As a smith, instead of paying the full 100% value of the dragon claws, you only pay 40%. The system covers the other 60% - and the player who completes the task also gets a hefty chunk of EXP."
"So that's what you meant by the system adding sixty percent more money," the man said, as if a light had gone on.
"Exactly. It helps the smith, he effectively pays only forty percent - while the system chips in the rest. And the player gets EXP and a payout on top," Adam summed up.
"So it's a win–win. The fighter earns money and experience for completing the task, and the blacksmith pays less than half for the needed material, lowering production costs and letting him earn more when he sells the finished weapon," the man said, sounding increasingly excited as the logic settled in.
"Exactly. That's why this game is unique, revolutionary, even. There are no NPCs; almost everything depends on the players like in real life, and the system is built to help and encourage the rules the developer designed," Adam said, his own excitement rising.
Seeing the bright-eyed boy in front of him, the man smiled slightly and offered a hand.
"Paul."
Adam looked at him for a heartbeat, then raised his right hand and shook it. "Adam. Nice to meet you."
Paul gave a small nod, strengthened the handshake, then let go and glanced just above Adam's head - at his displayed name.
"Mmm. Likewise, nice to meet you, PROTANGONIST," Paul said, barely containing a laugh. "Seriously - that's what you called yourself?"
Adam flushed, scratching his cheek to hide his embarrassment. Then he flicked a glance at Paul's own name and burst out laughing.
"Haha… Not sure you should be laughing at mine when yours is 'YourMumOP'," Adam said, pointing up at Paul's tag.
Paul's expression soured. "What are you laughing at! It's not my fault… How was I supposed to know it was the in-game name? I thought it was for my VR account, not the game right away…"
"Yes, yes, of course. Everyone makes that mistake while logging in. No need to explain... pff-" Adam tried to stay serious, but failed and cracked up again.
Seeing Adam unable to stop laughing, Paul swore at himself inwardly for bringing it up and scrambled for a way to change the subject.
"So-what are you even doing here? This is some dark, old alley. You look like you know your way around the game, so why come to a forgotten backstreet?" he said, then added, a touch teasing, "Don't tell me there's a secret room here - or some super OP item?"
Hearing that, Adam smiled and pointed at the green bin. "Exactly as you say, there was a great item. Right there in that bin."
"Seriously?!" Paul didn't hesitate. He lunged at the bin, flipped the brown lid, and plunged his hands inside, rummaging with the zeal of a treasure hunter.
After a moment of scraping and knocking around the empty bin, he looked up at Adam with reproach. "You lied. There's absolutely nothing here - it's just an old, empty bin."
Adam only shrugged, smiling. "Looks like a player beat you to it and nabbed it from under your nose."
Paul's mouth twitched into a half-grin. "Then that player had better hope we never meet - because I'll show him what YourMumOP can do."
Adam raised an eyebrow with mock awe. "Oh yes, certainly. The whole world trembles before the legendary YourMumOP."
Paul snorted, pretending to be offended. "You'll see."
They looked at each other for a beat, then burst out laughing together.