[Etherum, district 77]

In the island of Naarth, there was a small town called Etherum. Driven by a system of caste, where the poor lived on the outskirts and the rich and what was called the 'inner circle', the town was divided in numerous districts. 

This was a terrible place to live when you were poor. The lower districts were managed by gangs, or under the protection of mercenary groups. As for the soldiers, they were all living and protecting the inner circles of course, only seldomly coming down in the lower districts.

Two years ago, I was reborn in this unkind world, devoid of humanity yet so advanced in terms of technology. Self-driving autonomous cars were the main means of transportation, even for the poor, and they covered the sky in a very futuristic and dystopic manner. Every building had an advertisement hologrammic image displayed, fighting a war of attention for big corporates. Drugs, however, were part of the 'legal' products, society having decayed into a capitalist model without limits or regards for human life.

[Cyberpunk 2310]

This was the world I was reborn into. A world where you were supposed to live a character, level up, complete missions and eventually create guilds with other players to fund and manage a city capable of withstanding the monsters, barbarians and zombies living in the wilderness.

Etherum was never a city of the game, and I knew every single detail of the game, for I was part of the team developping it. Using the public records of History, I soon discovered that I not only entered a game of fiction, on which I spent a good ten years of my life on Earth developping, I also transmigrated into this hellish world into a city more than a hundred years after the supposed beginning of the game in terms of timeline.

In other words, I was stuck in an unknown world, one hundred years in the future of the period I knew about, in the body of a teenager that was from the lower districts. Status, I had none. Strength, I had none. Luck, the whole situation screamed at being unlucky.

Log out button, you may ask?

It was disabled.

"Greem, your orders?", a middle-aged man called Leon, with tattoos covering his body from head to toes, asked me. On his waist, two cybernetic modified guns hanged loosely. His body was well trained, and traces of military-grade cybernetic implants could be seen, providing him with superior traits.

Above his head, however, was a glimse of what allowed me to survive and raise my status in this world.

[Leon - Level 23 Gunner]

Looking at the shivering corporate scum trembling in fear in front of me, I drew my sword and beheaded him.

[You have dealt 70 points of damage]

[You have successfully killed [Valter]. You have earned 150 EXP]

[You have completed the chain of quests [Fall of Valter]. You have earned 350 Reputation, 1000 EXP, and 20000 Credits have been deposited on your account. Three new quests are available in your logs menu.]

[Your affiliated gang [Doomsmiths] have earned 800 influence points]

[Your affiliated gang [Doomsmiths] territory expands into the Red Avenue. Economy and influence will rise in the future as long as the territory is maintained under control]