《Last Call to Adventure》
Begin
The day had finally come.
Mythwrath¡ªthe most advanced full-dive VRMMORPG in years¡ªwas going live. Full-dive tech wasn¡¯t new anymore. But this? This was something else entirely. Mythwrath¡¯s World AI didn¡¯t just respond to player input. It adapted, evolved, reshaped the world in response to behaviour. Skills were forged through action, classes mutated with habit, and quests weren¡¯t given¡ªthey were earned. No rails. No safety net. Just endless possibility.
And one hell of a prize.
Two weeks earlier, the studio behind the game, simply named Myth, had dropped the bombshell: the first party to defeat the final boss¡ªidentity unknown¡ªwould split a million dollars. No hints. No roadmaps. No second chances. First clear takes all.
Knox leaned back in his chair. His full-dive rig hummed quietly beneath him like a dormant beast. On the monitor, the countdown to launch ticked past sixty seconds.
He exhaled through his nose, slow and steady, and mentally ran through his setup one last time.
Race: Cosmetic only. Human was the safest bet.
Appearance: Irrelevant. Randomize until he didn¡¯t look like nightmare fuel.
Class: He¡¯d experimented with plenty during beta. Cultist Fire Mage had strong late-game scaling but was miserable early on. Archers? Bland. Tanks? Too slow, especially for solo play.
His choice was risky, but efficient.
Sanguine Berserker. High risk, high reward. Thrived at low health. A build for players who weren¡¯t afraid to dance on the knife¡¯s edge.
Starting zone? Valeborne had a rare axe drop, but it was flooded with players during launch windows. Skarholt, on the other hand, was remote. Near the Thazir Wastes. Fewer players. More aggressive world events. Riskier quests, better payoff. It was the right call.
He locked in his route.
Five seconds to go.
Orchestral music swelled in his ears, strings and drums rising like a heartbeat.
4... 3... 2... 1...
White light engulfed the screen.
Everything vanished¡ªsight, sound, weight. The familiar vertigo of full-dive swept over him, pulling him out of the real world and into digital ether. He floated, bodiless, in a skyless void. Stars glimmered like distant embers. Nebulae drifted past, slow and silent.
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Ahead, a planet spun lazily into view. Two moons orbited it¡ªone pale and cratered, the other violet-hued, glowing where starlight touched its surface.
Time bent around him. The moons accelerated. Continents shifted. Oceans drained and refilled. Mountains rose and crumbled. Civilizations blinked into existence and vanished. The world reshaped itself, over and over, until it stilled.
Mythralis.
A soft chime echoed through the void, and a translucent blue prompt appeared before him:
[Welcome to Mythralis ¨C Please enter your character name.]
Knox typed quickly. Confirmed.
[Character Creator ¨C Design your avatar.]
Random. Random. Random. Good enough.
[Select your starting area.]
Skarholt.
[Please enter your class.]
This was it. The signature feature. No fixed trees. No forced choices. If the World AI could understand it, it would work.
He typed: Beerserker.
Another flash of light. Then silence.
His avatar descended through biting wind. Snow-laced mountains rose around him. Trees bent in the storm. Wolves howled in the distance.
He landed hard, boots sinking into a bank of fresh powder. The air was frigid. The cold bit at his skin¡ªstartlingly real.
Birdsong echoed faintly above. Pine trees creaked in the breeze.
He was in.
This wasn¡¯t just immersion. This was presence. Myth had delivered.
A new prompt shimmered into view:
[Welcome to Mythralis. Do you wish to participate in the Race to World First? This choice cannot be reversed.]
Knox clicked YES.
[Entry accepted. You are Player #000007.]
Lucky number.
The next screen followed immediately:
[Please review the rules.]
Next.
[Only one team may claim the grand prize.]
Next.
[This character is your only eligible entry. Future characters cannot participate.]
Fine. No rerolls.
[Participation invokes Perma-Death. If you die, your character is deleted and you are disqualified.]
Knox stared at the final line.
"...Shit."
He read it again. And again. Still the same.
There had been no mention of this in beta. No datamined leaks. No rumors.
"Is this a joke?" he muttered.
He glanced around. Nothing changed. The screen waited.
This wasn¡¯t just high-stakes. This was brutal.
Sanguine Berserker was a class built on risk. He¡¯d died hundreds of times just testing its mechanics. He¡¯d learned through trial, error, and pain. And now? He had to finish the game without dying once?
His jaw tensed. No use panicking.
He hit NEXT.
Control returned. The interface vanished. He could move.
¡°First things first,¡± he muttered, already wincing from the cold, ¡°I need gear.¡±
He opened his inventory. Starter kit, auto-generated based on his class and zone. Leather armor. Fur-lined cloak. Heavy boots. Enough to ward off frostbite.
No weapon.
¡°¡Really?¡± he muttered. ¡°Guess they wanted to keep us improvising.¡±
A few potions were tucked inside¡ªa surprise. Healing items weren¡¯t supposed to be craftable until someone unlocked alchemy. Rations. A basic survival kit. Rope. Flint.
And one more thing.
A frothy mug of beer.
Knox blinked.
¡°¡What the fuck am I supposed to do with this?¡±
No Room For Pain
Knox placed the beer back into his inventory¡ªa strange sensation. It wasn¡¯t a physical space, not some backpack on his back, but a kind of internal void he could sense. Like organizing thoughts into neat rows, except those thoughts happened to include a frothy pint of ale.
No weapon. That was a problem. But not a dealbreaker. And spending time wondering why Myth had tweaked the Berserker kit since beta? That was a waste of energy. He had bigger priorities. First step: unlock a path. Rage. Straightforward, brutal, reliable. And he knew exactly where to start.
He followed the slope down through thick snow, toward a cluster of rough wooden buildings huddled beneath wind-swept pines. Skarholt¡¯s farmland stretched out around him, fields dusted with frost, their strange, gnarled crops hunched low against the cold. They looked stunted, even malformed¡ªbut he couldn¡¯t say for sure. He¡¯d never touched farming or herbalism in beta. Total waste of a build slot unless you were deep into crafting salves and potions. And let¡¯s be honest¡ªwho picked farmer on purpose?
A solitary figure caught his eye: a man in a worn wool coat splitting logs with practised efficiency. Each swing cracked through thick timber like it was nothing. Between strikes, the man kept glancing toward the far edge of the field. Tense.
"Hey there! You lost, stranger?" the farmer called, pausing mid-swing to stretch his shoulders.
"Not lost," Knox replied, approaching. "Just seeing if there¡¯s any work. Combat, hunting, anything that pays."
The farmer eyed him up and down. "You don¡¯t look like much of a hunter. Got any experience with monsters?"
Knox gave a half-smile. "A little. I can hold my own. I¡¯m looking for a good fight, not a handout."
"Well, you might get one," the farmer said, stepping aside to rest the axe on a stump. "My far field¡¯s crawling with feral pigs. Big ones. Mean. They¡¯ve torn through most of the crops, and I¡¯ve already written off the yield. If you can clear them out, I¡¯ll figure something out for your trouble."
Knox raised an eyebrow. "Feral pigs? How bad are we talking?"
"These aren¡¯t barnyard animals. They¡¯re half the size of a wagon, travel in groups, and go straight for your throat if they catch your scent. I got a couple with traps, but it¡¯s risky work. Damn near suicide trying to set more."
"Fair warning taken. One issue, though¡ªI don¡¯t have a weapon. You got a spare?"
The farmer squinted. "You came out here without a weapon?"
Knox rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, not ideal. But I¡¯m a Berserker class. Improvised weapons might trigger a passive unlock, so honestly? The weirder, the better."
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With a long look at the axe in his hand, the farmer sighed and passed it over. "Here. Just don¡¯t die with it, its my good axe."
Knox crouched low behind a snow-covered shrub, keeping to the downwind side of the field. He¡¯d taken the long route, circling to avoid alerting anything prematurely. This was a critical moment¡ªno skills, no passives, no second chances.
Three pigs grazed and dozed in the snow-dusted ruins of the field. Two were asleep, stomachs bloated from overeating. The third snuffled among broken stalks, tearing up another root vegetable.
He ran through his plan again. The Sanguine Berserker wasn¡¯t about quick wins or flashy crits. It was about stamina, attrition, control. The longer the fight, the stronger he became. The best way to unlock the path he needed was to take some damage. And the best way to get the passive skill he wanted? Take a lot of damage.
It was risky, sure. But in beta, this method had always worked¡ªtriggering the Fury path if he managed to survive long enough. He¡¯d done it before. A dozen times. Success rate was maybe one in three. But today, he didn¡¯t have the luxury of waiting.
He launched himself out of cover.
The pig didn¡¯t react until he was nearly on top of it. Knox lunged, bringing the axe in low toward the beast¡¯s rear leg. He aimed for the joint¡ªthe hock, if he remembered right. The blade connected with a sickening crunch, severing the hoof cleanly.
The pig squealed, whirling around to face him.
Knox checked the others. They¡¯d stirred but hadn¡¯t moved. Good.
He turned and sprinted.
The injured pig barrelled after him, surprisingly fast despite its missing limb.
It lunged. Knox veered at the last moment, just enough to avoid being flattened. The impact still caught him across the lower back, hard enough to jolt his vision. The simulated pain was sharper than it should¡¯ve been¡ªdefinitely not what he remembered from beta. Another silent update from Myth. No time to think about it.
He stumbled but recovered quickly, spinning around as the pig skidded past. He brought the axe down on its flank. Then he ran again.
Again it charged. Again he let it hit. Again he countered.
The rhythm was brutal but familiar. Each time he took a hit, it wore on him¡ªbut he could feel it building. Something under the surface. A pressure. A heat. Not quite pain, not quite power¡ªpotential. Raw and waiting. Something he could shape¡ or lose.
[Fury Path Available.]
He accepted instantly.
A surge of energy rippled through his limbs. Movement came easier. His breathing steadied. The fight shifted.
The pig was weakening now. Its wounds bled freely, staining the snow in wide, messy arcs. Knox ducked and weaved, striking with increasing precision, avoiding direct hits.
Eventually, the creature collapsed¡ªnot from a killing blow, but from sheer blood loss. It bled out beneath the grey sky, steam rising faintly from its wounds.
Knox stood over the corpse, his breath visible in the cold air. His body throbbed with strain. He felt like a cracked vessel¡ªbarely holding together, every movement tight with pain. There was no health bar to check, no stats to rely on. Just the raw, aching sense that one more mistake would have been the end.
But he was still here.
He glanced at the far end of the field. The other two pigs remained asleep or uninterested. Either way, they weren¡¯t a threat. Not yet.
Dropping to one knee in the snow, Knox opened his menu. Several skills had unlocked during the fight. He scanned past most of them until one caught his attention.
[No Room For Pain] ¨C Fury Path Skill - Taking hits temporarily grants stacking damage bonuses.
He accepted without hesitation. The potential locked into place¡ªan anchor inside him. With limited slots per path, every skill mattered. This one would be the foundation of his build.
The Sanguine Berserker path favoured extended combat¡ªfights that pushed you to the edge, then dragged you back, bleeding but alive. Each wound empowered him. Each near-death moment brought clarity. He wasn¡¯t just meant to fight. He was meant to endure, outlast, and eventually overwhelm.
This was how it started. Exactly as he¡¯d planned it.
That wasnt in the beta...
The cold was worse now. Or maybe Knox was just feeling it more.
He kept one hand clutched to his side where the pig¡¯s charge had slammed into him, tearing a gash through leather and flesh alike. Blood soaked into the lining of his cloak, warm and sticky. Each breath came harder than the last, and the ache in his limbs made the ground feel farther away with every step.
He hadn¡¯t planned for a second fight¡ªnot so soon. Not like this.
Snow crunched behind him.
Knox turned.
A new pig. No¡ª**boar**. Bigger. Meaner. Fur matted with old blood, snout flecked with foam. Its breath came in visible clouds, steam rising from the heat of rage. Eyes locked on him.
This one hadn¡¯t been in the beta.
Another change. Another gift from Myth.
Knox¡¯s grip tightened around the axe¡¯s handle. He could barely lift the thing. His left leg dragged behind him, useless from where the last pig had slammed him. And this new one? It wasn¡¯t just hungry. It was out for vengeance.
The boar charged.
Knox dove sideways, pain flaring through his ribs. He barely avoided the tusks, but the impact of landing on hard-packed snow knocked the wind from him. He rolled, came up to a crouch, and scrambled backward.
No time. No space. No plan.
Another charge. Another dodge.
Again. Again. Each time by a hair¡¯s breadth. Each time a reminder of how fast things could end here.
And yet¡ªbeneath the adrenaline, something stirred. A rhythm. Not power, not clarity. **Flow.**
But no time to dwell.
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He needed something. Anything.
A broken fence loomed nearby, half-buried under wind-packed snow. Strange icicles jutted from it like teeth¡ªthick, jagged stalactites formed where the winter had warped the wood and steel. Knox bolted toward it, dragging his ruined leg behind him.
The boar chased him relentlessly, snorting and bellowing, carving a trench through the snow.
Knox reached the fence, turned hard, and braced.
He broke the largest icicle free with a grunt, spun, and jammed it forward.
It sank into the boar¡¯s shoulder with a crunch. Not deep enough.
The boar swerved mid-charge and caught him with a grazing strike. The tusk carved a fresh line across his side. Shallow, but hot. Immediate.
Knox screamed.
He twisted and stabbed with another icicle, then another. One cracked on impact. One slipped. One found a gap in the boar¡¯s hide and sank in deep.
The beast reared, screeching, thrashing in place.
Knox staggered backward, clutching his side.
"Alright," he growled. "I¡¯ve taken the hits. I¡¯m bleeding. I¡¯m pissed. Let¡¯s see it."
He focused inward. Reached for the skill he¡¯d just earned¡ª[No Room for Pain].
Nothing.
He tried again.
Still nothing.
"What the hell?" he snapped, blinking sweat and blood from his eyes. "I¡¯m hurt. I¡¯m angry. What more do you want?"
It didn¡¯t make sense. He¡¯d been in combat long enough. Taken enough damage. A Berserker should be overflowing with resource by now.
Something was wrong.
Another charge forced him to move. He barely cleared the beast¡¯s path, falling hard, scraping his knuckles raw against packed ice.
The axe.
He still had the farmer¡¯s axe.
The field narrowed around him. No more space. No more options.
It was this or die.
Knox pulled the axe from his belt, drew a shaking breath, and sprinted forward.
The boar matched him.
At the last second, Knox threw the axe with both hands.
Then dove sideways.
The axe struck. A wet crunch. A squeal.
When he looked up, the boar was rearing back, shrieking. The axe handle jutted from its face¡ªlodged in one eye socket, trembling with the beast¡¯s pain.
Not dead. But hurt. Scared.
It bolted.
Snow flew in every direction as it crashed through the fence line and disappeared into the woods, howling in agony.
Knox watched it vanish.
Then, one foot at a time, he began stumbling back toward the farmhouse. The adrenaline was fading fast, and every step dragged pain up through his ribs and down his spine. The snow blurred beneath him, the world tilting sideways. He didn¡¯t make it far.
Then collapsed.
The sky blurred overhead. Snowflakes drifted lazily past his vision. His side burned. His head rang. And his body refused to move.
He could just make out the edge of the farmstead ahead¡ªtwo figures silhouetted by the grey light. One broad and familiar. The other smaller, clad in armor.
His last thought before darkness took him was simple, sharp, and a little annoyed.
*...Great. I lost his axe.*
Just This Once.
"Confident enough when he asked about the pigs," came the farmer¡¯s gruff voice, edged with irritation. "Warned him, too. Now he¡¯s lost my best axe and bled all over my sheets."
Knox stirred, consciousness returning in sharp bursts. Pain. The boar. The fight that shouldn''t have been. Myth changing rules again¡ªfigures.
He''d nearly died in what amounted to a tutorial. Not unprecedented, but it usually took spectacularly bad decisions, not invisible system updates. The boar hadn''t existed in beta. Typical Myth¡ªalways improvising.
Warmth flowed through him, deeper than blood-dampened sheets, softer somehow. He opened his eyes to find golden light radiating from a figure beside his bed.
A paladin. A woman. Her hands hovered above his chest, glowing faintly. She worked without hesitation¡ªsteady, practiced, unsettlingly natural.
Knox¡¯s eyes narrowed. "How are you doing that?"
Her concentration faltered, warmth receding briefly. She frowned lightly. "Doing what?"
"Healing," he said plainly.
Her expression shifted, curious but calm. "New to Mythwrath? It''s Touch of Purity¡ªbasic piety."
Knox resisted the impulse to snap back, channelling irritation into analysis instead. "I tested paladin in beta. It wasn¡¯t for me. How¡¯d you unlock abilities this quickly?"
She considered him evenly. "You didn''t explore much in beta? Abilities come from intent. It''s straightforward¡ªjust feeling, really."
"I''ve logged plenty of beta hours," Knox said flatly.
She shrugged mildly, unaffected. "You''re stable. Rest."
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Knox forced himself upright, biting back a grunt of pain. "No time. I''ve got a boar to finish off."
"Boar?" Her eyes flicked sceptically to the farmer. "There aren¡¯t boars around here¡ªjust pigs."
"Well," the farmer shifted awkwardly, "there¡¯s one big bastard. Thought he wandered off."
Knox turned slowly, eyes narrowed. "You knew and said nothing? Pigs are manageable. That boar nearly gutted me."
"Your incompetence isn¡¯t my problem," the farmer retorted sharply. "Thanks to you, I have bloody sheets, an angry beast destroying my fields, and you lost my axe!"
The paladin¡¯s frown deepened thoughtfully. "There shouldn¡¯t be a boar here at all."
"Exactly," Knox muttered. "Myth¡¯s improvising¡ªnew monsters, new gear setups, altered progression."
The paladin¡¯s expression remained calm, quietly measuring. "Concerning."
Knox¡¯s gaze sharpened. "Concerning¡¯s one way to put it. Abilities aren¡¯t responding normally. My gear¡¯s off. It¡¯s like playing blind."
"If the pigs got you this low," she said steadily, "a boar might be too much."
"Pig, singular," Knox corrected deliberately, irritation concealed under dry detachment. "It was calculated. Needed the damage for progression. Berserker class¡ªpain to power."
She tilted her head, a hint of dry amusement beneath calm scrutiny. "You''re insane. High-risk?"
"High reward," Knox acknowledged, reluctantly intrigued by her perceptiveness. "Myth sprung perma-death last minute. Too late to pivot."
Knox slowly stood, steadying himself. "Thanks for the heal. I¡¯ve got it from here."
She stepped in front of him calmly, blocking his path. "I''m part of this quest now. You''re not ready."
Knox eyed her sceptically, evaluating risks and resources silently. "I started it¡ªI¡¯ll finish it. Knowing it¡¯s out there changes things."
"Fine," she conceded with quiet resolve. "But I''m coming. I need progression, you keep the reward. My second path might even help."
Knox¡¯s curiosity sharpened, calculations whirling. "Second path already?"
"Bulwark," she replied simply, a shield materializing on her arm, intricately patterned. Quiet pride, no bravado.
Knox raised an eyebrow, impressed despite himself. "How¡¯d you unlock that so fast?"
"Intent," she replied evenly, extending a small dagger from her inventory. "Want to party up? Just this once."
Knox hesitated briefly, calculating quietly. Fighting without skills was foolish. He exhaled, resigned. "Just this once. I solo."
"Works for me," she said with gentle irony. "Long-term, you''d slow me down anyway."
Knox snorted quietly, appreciating the subtle jab. He took the dagger, nodding toward the door. "Let¡¯s move."
Behind them, the farmer called out sharply, "Get my axe back!"
As they stepped outside, snow crunching beneath boots, the paladin glanced sideways. "Aria."
Knox replied simply, "Knox."
Recognition flickered briefly across her face¡ªswiftly masked. His reputation had evidently preceded him.
They moved forward together in quiet readiness, each assessing the other silently, tension mounting as they neared the field. Neither knew exactly what awaited¡ªbut both understood this was no longer just a tutorial.