I looked around, wondering why everyone was suddenly staring at me weirdly. Sure, that greeting was a bit over the top, but isn't it common courtesy to introduce yourself when you enter a place? I tried to apologize, but no words came out. Maybe the gaming pod was faulty. It reminded me of my grandma, who, even until her death, refused to go anywhere near technological devices like holo-techs or even outdated smartphones.
I remember asking her why she took airplanes and subways if they were both products of technological advancement. She always gave me that weird look that seemed to say, "Shut up."
Then I heard an old man sitting far away at a podium facing some strange guy say, "Silence." Oh, here it comes those VR NPCs and their rules. I bet he's going to tell me he needs my help with some quests now. It's becoming cliché, seriously.
I waited, but nobody said anything. Now I was confused about what to do next.
"Take a book and read. You can only pass after your Intelligence reaches 30 points," the old man finally said before returning to sip his cup of whatever.
Not again! I didn't come to this game to go back to reading. Hell no! As if I'm going to read some dumb book again! I screamed internally, as reading was the hobby I hated the most. Why do people find it fun to read some boring random book? Of course, discounting romance books I love those without a doubt.
I was about to log out and delete the game. At least I could tell my sister I tried; I just had no interest in someone telling me what to do. That's when I felt something whisper close to me. The voice was magnetic and almost familiar, like the voice of a long-lost friend I couldn't get over. I don't know why, but I suddenly felt so sad, and I could feel tears running down my cheeks. I had half a mind to care about the realistic settings of the game.
I just had this feeling that I would meet someone I had always wanted to meet in this game. I felt manipulated and couldn't help but feel angry. Looking up, I realized everyone, including the NPC old man, was in a daze. I glanced around and noticed the player sitting opposite the old man crash to the floor, clutching his head. As I looked closer, I saw his face twisted in pain, as if he had been hit with a hammer. His eye color was changing in real-time from black to a tint of gold.
I knew I should attribute whatever was happening to the game, but deep down, I sensed it was something different. I had made up my mind: whatever it was, I had to find out. I would persist and play this game to uncover the mystery behind this phenomenon. Since I was the first to gain clarity, I figured I had some extra time. Let's find some cool books to pass the time. I hope they have some normal books in this library.
…
in the Cardinals Mansion
James jolted awake with a yelp, clutching his head and screaming, "Aaargh, make it stop! Please, make it stop!" He felt as if someone distant was speaking to him in an incomprehensible language, and his brain struggled to interpret the sounds. The confusion was overwhelming, and he couldn't seem to escape it. After what felt like an eternity, he suddenly heard a crack in his head, and with it, all the pain vanished as if it had been nothing but an illusion.
If anyone had been nearby, they would have seen an ethereal chain shackling James's body, the crack in the chain being the source of the sound he had just heard.
After a minute, he stood up, his body drenched in sweat, confirming that this was no dream. He looked around the room and called out, "Fixi, what happened?" But his trusty AI remained silent. Shock coursed through him; this had never happened before.
Determined to understand what was going on, he got up and manually activated the main console, only to find it malfunctioning. He tried every mode of communication, but nothing worked. After sitting in frustration for a while, he decided to give up and seek out Aunty Amy. She would know how to uncover the truth behind this strange occurrence.
…
Somewhere in Nigeria
An afterparty was in full swing, with both young and old revelers caught up in a mood of jollification as the popular Nigerian artist Fireboy sang live on stage. This lavish event was organized by a business magnate, evident from the crowd of affluent guests, their expensive attire prominently featuring the trending Cashmere material often called Senator material which has taken the crown from Swiss Lace over the past half-century.
Among the guests, there was an outlier: a beautiful lady with a toned, athletic build, wearing a meticulously tailored senator-style native dress. The sleek fabric accentuated her figure, blending traditional elegance with modern style, exuding confidence and cultural pride. Yet, despite her striking appearance, she kept her distance from the party, choosing to remain in a corner where she could observe the festivities without engaging.
Suddenly, she let out a scream, clutching her head in distress. This abrupt outburst drew immediate attention, and someone shouted in local pidgin, "Alhaji, your pikin don fall ooo!" The crowd erupted into an uproar, all eyes now focused on her.
…
China
In a training hall, a young Chinese man in his 20s sits cross-legged, meditating with a sword resting on his lap, his expression calm and unwavering. Across from him, an old man glares, frustration boiling over. "Every day, it's the same! You waste your youth on that sword!" he snaps, his voice sharp with impatience. "Go out, live a little, make friends, enjoy life. This obsession will consume you!"
The young man remains silent, his eyes closed, ignoring the old man's outburst. Furious at his stubbornness, the elder slams his fist to the ground. "You're throwing away your life for a weapon!" he fumes.
"I'm not," the young man replies calmly, opening his eyes to meet his grandfather's gaze. He knows this old man won't give up on persuading him to socialize after countless failed attempts. He has told him time and again that he cannot indulge in the lifestyle most people embrace these days.
"Then what is the reason for your obsession with training?" the elder asks, exasperation lacing his tone.
"I told you I had a dream when I was five years old that danger was coming. Nobody believes me. I have no choice but to take it upon myself. Even you, who only halfheartedly support me, do so just to uphold our martial culture since no one else is willing to dedicate themselves to it anymore in this era," the young man explains, speaking more earnestly now, knowing this old man won't relent unless he provides a clearer justification.
"I know all that! But you won't make any breakthroughs in your swordsmanship if you keep walking this solitary path. You need to find like-minded friends, accumulate followers anything at all! The solitary path is not your way, I tell you!" the man says, frustration evident in his voice.
"Where do I find like-minded friends?" the young man asks, his tone tinged with despair.
The old man falls silent, momentarily speechless. He sighs, realizing he cannot provide an answer.
Suddenly, the young man's body goes limp, and he begins to tremble as if in shock.
"Jiangfeng!!!" the old man screams in shock, panic flooding his voice.
…
England
In a manor that exudes a rich, timeless atmosphere, a blond young man in his 20s sat in the study. He wore a tailored gentleman's suit, with his outer coat hanging beside him on a nearby chair made of oak. The table was also crafted from the same fine wood, its polished surface reflecting the soft glow of a nearby lamp. Beside him stood Mr. Blair, the butler, impeccably dressed in a traditional butler suit, his expression respectful yet laced with concern.
"Young master, I apologize if I am out of turn, but you should take a break and leave the matters of the family business to Sir Andrews, the financial manager," Mr. Blair urged. "He has proven his loyalty to the family time and again. You deserve a respite to indulge in the activities that young men your age enjoy."
The young man looked up from the documents spread across the table, skepticism etched on his face. "And what would I be doing instead?" he asked, flipping through the papers absentmindedly.
"I hear there's a new VR game that even the Planetary Council has endorsed and helped to advertise," Mr. Blair replied, his tone earnest. "There must be something special about it if the government is giving it such hype."
"A game? Are you kidding me right now? You expect me to abandon my family's business to go play some game? I'm disappointed in you, Mr. Blair," the young man said, shaking his head in disbelief.
"Young master..." Mr. Blair began, wanting to argue his case, but before he could continue, a sudden crash interrupted them. The young man collapsed from his chair, his body trembling violently as his veins began to protrude alarmingly.
"Lara!!! Call the doctor!!!" Mr. Blair shouted, panic rising in his voice as he called out for the head maid.
…
England
In a grand English manor that echoed with history and tradition, Freya sat in the opulent drawing room, a striking young woman in her early 20s. The rich tapestry draped across the walls seemed to watch as her parents stood before her, their expressions a mix of concern and determination. Freya, usually the epitome of obedience, felt an unfamiliar fire burning within her.
"Freya, you must understand, this arrangement is for your own good," her mother insisted, her voice firm yet laced with an underlying desperation. "Lord Harrington comes from a reputable family. You cannot throw away this opportunity!"
Freya's heart raced, defiance surging through her. "I will not marry someone I don't love!" she exclaimed, her voice steady yet strained. "For once, I refuse to do what you want!"
Her father's brow furrowed deeply, disappointment washing over his features. "This is not just about you, Freya. It's about family honor and tradition. You've always complied with our wishes. Why are you fighting us now?"
Freya felt a rush of emotions anger, frustration, and an aching desire for independence. "Because I am not a pawn in your game anymore! I want to choose my own path!" The words hung in the air, shocking her parents into silence.
"But you don't understand the consequences!" her mother shot back, her voice rising. "What will society think? What will your friends say? You are throwing away your future!"
"I don't care about what they think!" Freya retorted, her voice cracking under the weight of her emotions. "I want to be happy!"
The argument escalated, voices growing louder as they clashed over tradition and desire. Just as her father raised his voice in frustration, Freya felt a wave of dizziness wash over her. Her vision blurred, and the room spun around her.
Suddenly, she collapsed onto the richly carpeted floor, her body convulsing violently. "Freya!" her parents shouted in unison, panic flooding their voices. They rushed to her side, their argument forgotten in the face of their daughter's distress.
"Call for help!" her father commanded, his authoritative tone now tinged with fear, as he knelt beside her, cradling her trembling form.
Everywhere from around the world, legends were rising...