"Interesting. And you say humans in the future had something similar for entertainment?" Alice inquired, taking a sip of the tea. She had to admit it was delicious and found herself always wanting more. After all, good food and drinks were some of the few pleasures she enjoyed in her past life.
"I believe you would find the future of mankind very interesting, but I must apologize, as recounting your history is not part of this induction," Lumière remarked, noticing the nearly empty tea cup in front of Alice. "I'm glad you like it," he said, and as the words left his mouth, the cup was instantly refilled, something he had done twice already during their extended conversation.
"Thank you. And I apologize for overstepping my bounds," Alice said, inclining her head slightly. "I assume the main dish is next."
"Indeed," Lumière nodded, a card appearing in his hand. "Care to take a look?"
Alice took the card, but before she could express her inability to read it, the content of the card bewildered her. The characters, the numbers—she understood them as clearly as if they were in her native tongue. It was astonishing, yet frightening. Had her brain been altered? Had thoughts and knowledge been inserted into her mind without her consent? This made her nervous; her mind had always been her fortress, her safe haven. Now, it seemed the entities governing this new reality could breach those defenses unnoticed.
"Being afraid is pointless, Alice. Even if your mind has been altered, what can you do about it?" Lumière continued in a more serious tone. "In the presence of a truly superior power, all defenses are futile, privacy is nonexistent, and the mind is an open book. All you can do is adapt and face your new reality." He then fixed his gaze on Alice. "If it eases your concern, we only endowed you with knowledge to ensure balance," he paused. "You are still Alice Fontaine."
It was the truth. What could she do about it? As her fear gradually subsided, she gave the card another look:
You are a Seer.
Your Might is reduced by half.
You cannot equip any Headgear.
Your Essence is increased by 50%.
You have lost and can never regain your sense of hearing.
You can equip an extra accessory.
Alice tensed for a moment, her gaze narrowing. She already knew the attributes and was indifferent to the reduction and boon, the headgear, and the accessory. However, while the role of a Seer intrigued her, one line overshadowed everything else:
You have lost and can never regain your sense of hearing.
'Is this hell?' she wondered. It seemed too cruel to strip away what she cherished most, her primary tool for experiencing life. What would she become if she couldn't hear? She feared she would eventually lose her ability to speak as well, with no auditory feedback to guide her. 'Why is this happening?'
"It is indeed unfortunate," Lumière observed. "Fate has not been kind to you, but believe me when I say it could have been worse."
Alice trembled slightly in her seat. The thought of her mind being tampered with was frightening, but the prospect of losing her hearing terrified her on a whole new level. For the first time in her life, she felt genuine fear. She had never feared any man or even death itself, but the violation of her most valued senses, things she believed were untouchable, struck a deep chord within Alice.
***
'21-year-old university dropout turns fortune hunter, striking it rich in a quest against walking skeletons' – Dante pondered this whimsical headline, a mix of amusement and pride swirling within as he eyed the substantial pile of coins they had amassed.
24,184 Tutorial Coins
Dante was currently basking in high spirits. Facing off against level 8 adversaries, including a varied mix of hounds, warriors, and archers, the difficulty of their skirmishes was undeniably increasing. However, to Dante, this escalating challenge seemed almost trivial. Virgil was overpowered (OP) – and not in the usual way. He was, for most intents and purposes, immortal, boasting seemingly infinite mana and enjoying the absence of skill cooldowns. The situation was bordering on the ridiculous, almost as if the game's rules had been twisted to favor Virgil, transforming him into a sort of cheat code incarnate. With such a level of power, their battles felt less like strategic engagements and more like a fantastical journey through a world where the usual rules no longer applied.
"Indeed, it seems a bit unfair. It's like way too easy, almost like," a voice in the air mused, pausing briefly, "...being in a tutorial."
Dante, momentarily caught off guard by the sudden interruption in his train of thought, quickly regained his composure and smiled, recognizing the speaker:
"I was wondering when you'd reveal yourself again," Dante replied with a knowing grin. "Should I address you as sensei or supervisor?"
"In this instance, I'd prefer something like 'Grand Guru of Games'," the voice quipped back, its tone playful yet grand.
"Haha, quite the title for someone who lost at chess to a 1400 ELO university student," Dante shot back, laughing.
"Well, I couldn't very well crush your morale before you even started this adventure, could I?" the voice responded. "It seems you're quite enjoying this Tutorial. Maybe too easy, after devising your 'Immortal Macro' – a brilliant concept, though I must say the name could use some work. Sounds like something a 9-year-old would concoct."
"Jealous of my ingenuity, I see," Dante teased, then continued, "And here I thought my thoughts were private. So much for personal space."
"You asked for guidance, after all," the voice replied, its tone a mix of sarcasm and cheer, much like that of an amiable old man. "I just wanted to offer a bit of wisdom to my young disciple, to keep you from an untimely end…" The voice then shifted, becoming more solemn, "Remember, the rules of The Game cannot be broken."
Dante felt a jolt of surprise at the serious undertone in the skeleton's voice, a stark contrast to its usual jesting manner. There was a momentary pause, and for the first time, Dante didn't respond with a quick-witted retort. Instead, he found himself reflecting on the gravity of the words.
After allowing Dante a moment of contemplation, the skeleton resumed, the hint of fun returning to its voice: "You've pondered it, but the true scope of this Game is beyond your wildest imagination…" A brief pause punctuated its point, "You are simply too limited in your current state to grasp its magnitude," it continued. "No matter what strategy you devise, what concept you conjure, or what combination you dream up, anything within the realm of human creation or conception, even with your stats boosted a thousandfold, will not even remotely approach the complexity of the Game." The skeleton seemed to relish this moment of holding the floor, a reversal of their usual banter reminiscent of a chess game where Dante was perpetually in check.
"You humans have developed what you refer to as Artificial Intelligence (AI). The principle is straightforward: it processes vast amounts of data to make predictions or 'create' based on that data," the skeleton explained, hinting at generative AI. "Now imagine that concept magnified to encompass all conceivable data, not just from your universe but from a system infinitely larger, governed by an algorithm of unparalleled superiority. That might give you a watered-down idea of the entity behind The Game."
***
Lately, Dante had found himself with ample time for contemplation, though not all his thoughts were dedicated to refining their strategy. There was a limit to how much he could optimize their approach, as the pace of improvement had noticeably slowed. Most of their advancement boiled down to the most fundamental method of human knowledge acquisition: experience. The unique twist, however, was that this experience now extended to skeletons.
Virgil, in Dante's eyes, was evolving into a master of combat. Having weathered countless battles, Virgil's battle sense had sharpened significantly. Beyond his prowess in combat, Virgil had also shown remarkable growth as a leader of their small team. He demonstrated a refined ability to command each of his summons with precision, coupled with significant improvements in strategic positioning and tactical foresight.
Their mental connection had deepened as well, though "deepened" might not fully capture the essence of their evolution. It was not that their bond grew stronger in the traditional sense; it had always been potent. Rather, Dante and Virgil had honed this connection, learning to use it more effectively. This enhanced link now beautifully exemplified one of Dante's Genesis Advantages: 'My first summon and I are recognized as one entity in this game.'
Amidst these musings on the dynamic nature of their partnership, Dante's thoughts frequently drifted back to the life he had left behind. He caught himself yearning for the simple comforts that once defined his everyday existence—the convenience of his smartphone, the familiarity of his PC, and the flavors of his favorite dishes. These mundane pleasures, once taken for granted, now seemed like luxuries from another world. Dante held onto the hope of experiencing, at least, the culinary delights again, albeit in a modified form, through the somewhat whimsically named 'tutorial vending machine.' But his thoughts weren't confined to reminiscences; they also ventured into the realm of his current, bewildering existence.
Dante grappled with the mystery of his arrival in this world. Were his friends, family, and potentially every human from his world, transported here as well? He pondered the fate of the most vulnerable among them – the infants, the elderly, and those with severe disabilities. Or maybe he was just among a select group chosen for this enigmatic journey? The skeleton's vague introduction offered little in the way of answers but left him with a haunting directive: 'I'm setting you humans in a game. A vast game, by your standards. The 'why' of this game is for you to uncover, as is its objective.'
Dante, ever fascinated by the enigmas of existence, had always immersed himself in the study of scientific breakthroughs and hypotheses that illuminated the workings of the universe, or more aptly, the old world he once inhabited. His interests spanned from the foundational Big Bang theory, which posits the universe's explosive birth from an infinitely dense point, to the intriguing bubble theory, suggesting our universe is but one bubble in a frothy sea of multiverse bubbles. He delved into the holographic theory as well, which proposes that all the information contained within a volume of space can be represented as encoded data on the boundary of that space.
However, amid these intellectual explorations, one theory resonated with him more profoundly now than ever before: the simulation theory. This concept proposes that our perceived reality might actually be an artificial simulation, akin to a highly sophisticated computer program, crafted by an advanced civilization or entity. According to this theory, everything we experience — from the vast expanse of the cosmos down to the minutiae of daily life — could be generated by complex algorithms and codes, orchestrated by a superior intelligence far beyond our comprehension.
This idea, once a mere intellectual curiosity to Dante, gained new weight and relevance in his current predicament. The parallels between his experiences in this game-like world and the premises of the simulation theory were uncanny. If his former reality could indeed be a construct of a higher entity's design, what did that imply about his current existence? Was this world another layer of simulation, designed for purposes unfathomable to its inhabitants?
And now, the words of his whimsical skeletal guide had, in a roundabout way, confirmed the existence of such a superior entity. Amid the peculiarities of his current situation, Dante allowed himself a brief, enigmatic smile—one that originated from the strangest of thoughts in the most bizarre of circumstances.
"So 'they' exist," he chuckled softly to himself.
This moment of levity reminded him of past discussions with friends and colleagues about his religious beliefs. Whenever the topic arose, Dante's response was consistent and contemplative: "I believe in the existence of a god, or gods, in the sense of a superior entity to us. However, I don't subscribe to any particular religion, though I do respect the religious beliefs that others hold."
This belief, embodying a rather agnostic view of the universe, which had once been purely speculative, now appeared to intersect with his current reality in a surprisingly direct way.
Enlightenment gained: Basic Insight of The Game (Rank 1)
Awarded for gaining a better understanding of The Game.
Award: +1 SP
"Perhaps you're not as dim-witted as I originally presumed."