The world of Satisfy wasn't for the faint-hearted. Its immersive gameplay wasn't just a game—it was a second life.
A Full-Dive Virtual Reality MMORPG like no other, it demanded not only skill and strategy but raw, primal determination.
For most players, the realistic combat system and punishing mechanics turned their adventures into nightmares, such as that one greedy but loser who had a very plot-armored character building. Yet for one man, it felt like home.
Guts logged into Satisfy for the first time with a grim smile on his weathered face. Once, he had been a renowned mercenary, a soldier for hire who spilled blood in every corner of the world.
Wars, revolutions, assassinations—his body was a map of scars, each one a testament to battles fought and survived. Retirement hadn't suited him; the stillness gnawed at him more than blades ever could.
When he donned the VR headset and entered the world of Satisfy, it was as if he'd been reborn. His muscles ached to swing a sword again, and the game's revolutionary full-body synchronization made every movement natural.
Every swing, every parry, every bruise—it all felt real. Most players complained about the pain feedback system; Guts embraced it like an old friend.
He didn't chase flashy skills or high-level gear like others. His build, unconventional and brutal, revolved around a single principle: survive.
Troll's Regeneration, Ogre's Strength, Vampiric Fury, Warrior's Focus, Berserker's Wrath, Iron Will, Fenrir's Reflexes, Cinder's Rage, Grim Harvest, Mountain's Backbone, Revenant's Resolve, Madman's Frenzy, Beast's Instincts, Sanguine Resistance, Vengeful Spirit, Witch's Fortitude, Titan's Endurance, etc.
Every skill he got were passive skills, creating a weird and chaotic gameplay, but Guts thrived in chaos. The more the odds were stacked against him, the stronger he became, embracing the nature of his name, GUTS!
He avoided the bustling cities where ambitious players flocked to grind dungeons or complete quests for prestigious guilds.
Instead, he roamed the wilderness, crossing hostile territories most wouldn't dare to step into.
Mountains teeming with wyverns, cursed swamps that drained vitality, and bandit-infested badlands became his hunting grounds.
Players whispered about the madman who soloed entire monster hordes, leaving trails of destruction and awe.
...
A cold wind swept across the battlefield, unnatural and biting. The weight of the notification was heavier than any message he'd received before, as if it carried something more than words. Before Guts could react, the world around him shifted.
The blood-soaked ground dissolved into darkness. The weight of his sword vanished from his hands, and for a moment, he thought the game had glitched. But this wasn't a bug. This was something deliberate.
A single light pierced the void—a dim, flickering torch held aloft by a figure cloaked in shadows. The figure's outline was rough, jagged, as if it had been carved from the same primal chaos that Guts fought to master. Its voice was a guttural growl, ancient and unrelenting.
"You have taken the path of carnage," it said, the words vibrating through Guts' very being. "Do you understand what you have claimed?"
He didn't answer. His eyes narrowed, and his stance shifted, ready for whatever came next. The figure chuckled, a sound like cracking bones.
"You will be hated. Feared. Your strength will draw the greedy, the vengeful, and the desperate. The world will rise against you, not for what you do, but for what you are. The Berserker's fate is one of isolation. Can you bear it?"
The question hung heavy, and yet Guts felt no hesitation. He didn't come to Satisfy for comfort or camaraderie. His life had always been one of struggle, and the title of Berserker wasn't a curse—it was a natural progression of who he had always been.
The figure stepped closer, the torchlight illuminating its face—a twisted amalgamation of every foe he had ever fought. Beasts, men, demons. It was as if the essence of his battles had taken form. Its eyes glowed crimson, boring into him.
"Very well," it said, its voice now layered with countless echoes. "The world will remember you, not as a savior, but as a storm. A calamity that cannot be tamed. You will face trials unlike any other, and your rage will be your only companion. Embrace it, and carve your name into the bones of this world."
The torch flared, and the figure dissolved into ash. The void collapsed, and the battlefield returned—but it was different. Guts stood in the same spot, yet the air felt heavier, thicker, as if the game itself had acknowledged his transformation.
The game's developers had designed the Legendary Classes as a mystery, locked behind hidden conditions so obscure they were thought to be impossible to achieve.
Yet, through sheer will and grit, Guts uncovered the path to the Legendary Berserker. It wasn't handed to him by an NPC or revealed in a shiny questline.
He earned it, grinding through uncharted territories, challenging bosses meant for parties of ten, and enduring punishment that would have broken lesser players without stopping for months as he modified his virtual pod to allow sustainance while gaming.
When the system notification sang his tales to the Satisfy's players.
[The battlefield was silent,
Not the peace of life, but the stillness of death,
Where blood seeped into earth cracked by rage,
And the air hung heavy with decay's bitter breath.]
[At the heart of carnage, a man stood alone,
Armor battered, clinging like a lover's lament.
His greatsword, a monument to unyielding defiance,
Rested deep in the shattered skull of a fallen titan.]
[His breath came slow, heavy as the weight of his deeds.
Hands trembling—not with fear, but the toll of survival.
Hours had bled into eternity, time lost to the rhythm of slaughter,
Each moment carved by the song of clashing steel.]
[It began with beasts, feral and ravenous,
Their snarls drowned beneath the roar of his fury.
Then the dead came, wave upon wave,
Cursed flesh seeking to drag him into their endless void.]
[But he did not falter. He did not break.
And when the chieftain descended, a colossus of rage,
Its bellow shook the heavens; the earth cracked in protest.
Yet still, he welcomed it.]
[The harder the battle, the sharper his instincts burned.
His muscles screamed with the burden of violence,
His bones creaked under the strain of survival,
But his heart, unyielding, beat a cadence of defiance.]
[When the last foe fell, silence claimed the field again.
Not the peaceful kind—this was the grim hymn of conquest,
Where death bowed its head to the unbroken,
And the world whispered the name of the one who would not fall.]
[He stood at the center of it all,
A warrior of flesh and fury,
A storm unchained,
A hymn of blood and steel.]
[Congratulations! You have achieved the first Legendary Class: Berserker]
"Heh, this game is too easy!" Guts smirked while relishing his ascent.
The gaming community erupted. Forums exploded. Players rushed to learn his secrets. But Guts, vanished into the wild once more. He didn't care for fame or recognition. The only thing that mattered was the next battle, the next challenge.
The Berserker title wasn't just a role for him—it was a reflection of his very soul. While others sought glory, Guts lived for the fight.
His legend spread not through flashy broadcasts or arena victories but through hushed tales of impossible feats.
A lone figure standing atop a mountain of corpses, his body covered in cuts that healed before the blood dried.
...
Guts stood at the edge of the clearing, the remnants of the battle still smoldering around him.
He had been at it for weeks—his blade coated in the blood of beasts, his armor tarnished by the onslaught—but the war wasn't over yet.
This was just a respite, a brief moment of calm before the next wave of enemies came for him.
He gritted his teeth and closed his eyes. He could feel it—the weight of his exhaustion, the dull ache in his bones.
But beneath that fatigue, something else stirred. Mana. The lifeblood of this world, something he had tapped into since the he started playing Satisfy.
Guts had always relied on raw strength and his martial skills, the overwhelming power of his body and will to crush anything that came his way.
But, here in Satisfy, the battlefield had changed. Mana was a force, a power that could amplify everything he was, but only if he could control it.
With a slow, deliberate breath, Guts extended his hand before him, focusing on the flickering currents of mana swirling around his body.
He could feel the flow, the pull of his mana. It was subtle at first, almost imperceptible, but as his focus deepened, the mana began to gather.
The air around him crackled with unseen energy, and the ground beneath his feet seemed to hum.
Guts felt it: the slow surge of strength, the way his body reacted to the flow of mana as it intertwined with his body.
[Congratulations! You have learned Mana Strengthening!]
It was a skill that allowed his mana to passively convert his raw mana into physical power. The more mana he got, the more his strength and agility increased.
His muscles surged, as if being pumped with molten fire, and a familiar, electrifying sensation shot through his limbs.
His body felt lighter—faster. The mana coursed through him, amplifying his every movement.
Guts flexed his fingers, testing the power. The difference was undeniable. He felt as though he could crush stone with a single swipe. His agility was sharper, his movements more fluid.
But it wasn't enough. He needed more battles to be familliar with his new skills.
As he travels through the wood, a rustling sound echoed through the trees, and Guts snapped his attention toward it, his heightened senses zeroing in on the source of the disturbance.
From the shadows, a group of savage werelions emerged, their yellow eyes glowing with malice.
They were armed with crude axes, their scales glinting in the fading light. They'd been tracking him, no doubt hoping to take advantage of his weariness.
"Lucky!" Guts' lips curled into a grin, a battle-hardened smile that spread across his face.
The weight of his sword lightening in his grip, his stance more balanced, more lethal. The werelions charged, their axes aimed directly cleave him apart, their growls loud enough to shake the trees.
Guts leaped forward with a speed that seemed impossible. His movement was a blur to werelions' perception.
His greatsword cut through the air, the blade slashing through the first werelions' axes before it even had a chance to swing.
The creature was too slow and too predictable for Guts. Their movements were no match for the ferocity that had overtaken Guts' body.
His strength was overwhelming now. His greatsword cleaved through the air with the ease of a hot knife through butter, each swing faster, more fluid than the last.
The second werelion was next, and Guts pivoted, his feet barely making contact with the ground as he unleashed a brutal horizontal strike.
The monster's body twisted mid-air, its spine snapped by the sheer force of the blow. It fell, lifeless, to the earth.
But the others were closing in. More than a dozen, their eyes glistening in the dying light.
Guts' mind raced as his another passive skill—Wolf's Reflexes—which heightening his reflexes to an unnatural degree told him the incoming attacks.
The werelions were fast, but Guts was faster.
With a rapid, fluid motion, he dodged the first strike, spinning to the side as an axe whizzed past his ear.
His sword met the second strike mid-air, and with a grunt of effort, he shattered the axe in two, the force of the impact sending a shockwave through the monster's body.
The creature was thrown back, its bones crunched under the weight of the blow.
The battlefield became a blur of motion, a dance of steel and sinew. Guts' every move was decisive, his strikes swift and brutal.
The passive skills coursing through him turned him into a whirlwind of destruction, each strike, each block, each dodge perfectly timed.
The werelions didn't stand a chance.
One by one, they fell—dismembered, shattered, defeated by the relentless force of Guts' power.
As the last of the werelions crumpled to the ground, Guts stood tall, breathing heavily.
His body was still alive but a bit tired with the pulsating rush of mana loss. He smiled, letting out a low, guttural laugh, his hands gripping the hilt of his sword.
"At last, my passive skills proficiencies have gone up a little bit."
Then, an eagle cry was heard, it flew towards Guts.
"Whoa whoa, easy girl. Why are you here? Oh, is that for me?"
The eagle nods and let Guts took the letter tied to its leg.
"Okay, let's see what we have here. Huh, it's from Basara. Ohoho, it seems my muscles is needed somewhere."
As he keep on walking through the forest, his minds wandered a little bit on the future battles in the Saharan Empire if what Basara told him in the letter was true.
"Hmm, I wonder if I can kill a great demon now."
As the winds of war began to stir in Satisfy, whispers of his name filled the air once more.
The world waited, breathless.