Frank sat across from his father in the quiet living room. The man's stern gaze bore into him, his fingers steepled as he leaned forward. "You graduated this year, but you're still without a job," he said evenly. "What exactly are your plans for the future?"
The question hung in the air like a weight. Frank met his father's eyes, his tone unusually measured. "Loan me ten thousand dollars, and give me three months. I'll pay it back. If I fail, I'll join your company."
The room fell silent. Frank's father leaned back in his chair, studying his son carefully. Normally, Frank might have snapped or argued. But today, his demeanor was calm, his request startlingly direct. "And what is this grand plan of yours?" his father asked, skepticism laced in his voice.
Frank straightened in his seat, his voice steady. "I have an idea that can work, but I need your trust."
For a moment, his father said nothing. Then, after a long sigh, he nodded. "Alright," he said gruffly. "Do what you need to. But if this fails, you come back here and take responsibility."
Frank rose from his seat, his lips curving into a small smile. "Thank you. I won't let you down."
As the conversation ended, his father watched him leave the room, a strange sense of pride stirring beneath his concern. Frank seemed different—focused, driven. He might just pull it off.
…Frank stood in his new apartment, sparsely furnished but functional. At five hundred dollars a month, it was a modest space, but it was his. The essentials were sorted—cheap furniture, a fridge stocked with rations, and, most importantly, the gleaming new Underworld Online neural link helmet sitting on the desk.
He ran his hand over its smooth surface, the faint hum of its startup sequence buzzing beneath his fingertips. The gaming pods weren't out yet—those full-immersion experiences were still a year away—but the 95% neural sync helmet was good enough for now.
He sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the device, his heart racing. This wasn't just a game to him. It was a lifeline, a chance to rewrite everything. His fingers trembled as he typed out a list of goals on his tablet, organizing the steps he needed to take in the game. Knowledge flooded back—hidden quests, dungeon mechanics, the pitfalls of early-level grinding. Even with all that information, the anticipation curled in his stomach.
Frank smirked, shaking his head. Feeling nervous over a game? Really? The irony wasn't lost on him. He laughed quietly to himself before lying back on the bed, his eyes fixed on the ceiling.
When midnight struck, the countdown began.
5... 4... 3... 2... 1.
The screen flickered to life in his mind's eye.
…Frank stood in a vast, marble-floored hall. Massive columns stretched skyward, and intricate runes glowed faintly along the walls. A robed figure stepped forward, his staff clicking against the ground with each measured step. The NPC's gaze was sharp, yet oddly welcoming.
"Welcome to Underworld Online," the wizard said, his deep voice reverberating through the chamber. "I am Malekai, the artificial intelligence responsible for this world. Please choose your faction."
Two glowing panels appeared in the air before Frank:
1. Light Faction.
2. Dark Faction.
Frank grinned. This part never changes.
"I choose the Dark Faction," he said.
Malekai's lips curved into a faint smile. "Welcome, Dark Adventurer. Please select your class."
Another list materialized before him:
1. Archer.
2. Rogue.
3. Sorcerer.
4. Barbarian.
5. Paladin.
6. Mage-Knight.
Frank didn't hesitate. He extended a hand toward the last option. "Mage-Knight."
Malekai nodded approvingly. "Congratulations on choosing the Mage-Knight class. Please choose your character name."
Frank thought for a moment before smirking. "Mars," he said. "The God of War."
The wizard's tone grew ceremonial. "Welcome, Adventurer Mars. Would you like to change your appearance?"
The option floated before him:
YES or NO.
Frank selected NO without hesitation. He remembered from his previous life that altering appearances lowered the neural sync rate. This time, he wasn't taking any risks.
"Your appearance will remain unchanged. Please select your kingdom of origin," Malekai continued.
A map of the continent appeared, the four kingdoms highlighted with glowing borders:
Northern Region: Morrath Kingdom.
Southern Region: Elvaris Dominion Empire.
Western Region: Tyrras Confederacy.
Eastern Region: Arcanite Consortium.
Frank's eyes locked onto the northernmost region. Morrath Kingdom. The memories came rushing back, every dungeon, every secret. This was the perfect base of operations.
"I choose the Morrath Kingdom," he declared.
"Please select a starting village," Malekai instructed.
Before the system displayed the options, Frank spoke again. "Greythorn Village."
Malekai's brows lifted slightly, but he nodded. "Spawning in Greythorn Village. Good luck, Adventurer."
…The world around Frank dissolved in a flash of light, reassembling itself in a lively village square. Stone cottages lined the streets, their chimneys puffing smoke into the crisp air. NPC merchants called out their wares, while players stumbled about, gawking at their surroundings.
Frank stepped forward, his boots crunching against the dirt path. He tilted his head back, taking in the familiar sight of Greythorn Village. A grin broke across his face as he shouted into the sky, "I'M BACK!"
Several NPCs and players turned to stare at him, their expressions ranging from confusion to amusement. Frank chuckled, shaking his head. Let them think I'm crazy.
Around him, the village bustled with activity. New players struggled to move properly, their bodies awkwardly adjusting to the game's realistic mechanics. Some marveled at the scenery, while others sprinted into the wilds, eager to start grinding for experience points.
Frank opened his system menu, scanning through the familiar interface:
Player Name: Mars
Class: Mage-Knight
Level: 1
Stats:
Strength: 5
Agility: 5
Intelligence: 5 (1 point = 5 Mana)
Stamina: 5
Vitality: 5 (1 point = 5 Health)
Health: 100/100
Mana: 100/100
Equipment: Common Stone Sword
His stats were a far cry from what they would become, but that didn't bother him. The path to greatness always started small. First things first, he thought. I need to grind to level 5.
Frank glanced toward the forest bordering the village. The trees swayed gently in the breeze, but he knew what lurked within—low-level beasts perfect for early leveling. He tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword, a familiar fire igniting in his chest.
"This time," he muttered, stepping toward the forest, "I'm doing it right."