《The Last Game》 Prologue It was the first time Aisha Lexington experienced unbearable pain. Raw. So overwhelming that tears streamed down her cheeks, and she¡¯d do anything to stop the agony, even risk that which she loved most. The young woman had waited loyally for a brother who would not return, a fraternal promise that would not be fulfilled. For a father who pretended everything was all right, that nothing had changed since the day the pandemic struck, since her brother vanished out of hatred for his own blood, out of sheer rebelliousness and a desire to cause mayhem. For a mother she could only talk to atop the Heavens. But she would wait no longer. Aisha Lexington didn¡¯t know why sorrow had slashed her soul when she did not see her brother return, but not when her mother gave her last breath. She didn¡¯t know why grief had seared her heart when she heard her father crying in secret once he realized his son would not return, when she overheard her father and her brother arguing to the point of fist fights, but not when she was told she only had a month to live and would soon join her mother. She didn¡¯t know when her home had turned into a three-story gothic mausoleum cocooned by the hills and mountains of North America¡¯s Pacific Coast, where Renaissance and Enlightenment paintings hanging from ivory marble walls gave way to achroite hallways, oak staircases, and a multitude of rooms from which no more laughter sprung forth. No more joy or warmth. Only the cold sound of whispering chandeliers and people exchanging pleasantries at dinner. A museum of acquaintances instead of a home with a family. She didn¡¯t know when her manor¡¯s fruitful gardens had begun to wilt, to serve solely as a reminder of an age that would soon end. Or depending on the perspective of those who believed in the Chairman¡¯s vision of progress, an age that was just beginning, reborn from the ashes of the past. But to the young woman, the withering meadows that sheltered her were nothing but the stench of all the rotten things in the world she thought was perfect, in the world she thought would never hurt her, of the brother she thought would never make her suffer. All the young woman knew was that her father and brother had been lying to her, trying to protect her, to take care of her, to be her rock, to be strong for her, and that she¡¯d have to break her father¡¯s heart to mend her own. That was what made her waver. That was what made her hesitate. The young woman had tried talking to her father, assisting him as she did in the family business, where her keen business acumen had increased the company¡¯s profit margin by fifteen percent. She had managed to increase the money earmarked for social responsibility¡ªto help those less fortunate than them¡ªbut all she got was a reply that she shouldn¡¯t worry. That he¡¯d take care of everything. But that only meant yelling at the Lezavres, saying that they were Lexingtons, and that this type of thing shouldn¡¯t happen to them. It only meant more sleepless nights of tears, where the soft Pacific breeze wafting against her home¡¯s clerestory windows was the sole respite of peace in a mire of agony and distress. But the young woman wouldn¡¯t let her father needlessly suffer. She would not let herself needlessly suffer. She knew her plan was outrageous, folly even, and perfectly understood why her father didn¡¯t think it would succeed. She doubted at times, but all other avenues had failed. All conventional plans had failed. All interventions had. So now, only foolishness remained.If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Perhaps to find her brother, she¡¯d have to stop acting like her father and act more like her brother. Reckless. Emotional. Without a care for her own safety. Without the slightest sense of how things were supposed to be done. She had always found that sort of thing endearing in her brother, and sometimes she thought of molding her personality to be more like him, but now that he had hurt her, failed to keep his promise of returning after a week in VirtuaNet, she wasn¡¯t so sure if his way was the right one. A part of her wanted to believe her brother had not done that to her. A part of her wanted to believe that something had happened to him. That he was hurt somewhere. Kidnapped. Dead. And she didn¡¯t know which was worse. That the brother who understood her fully and could decipher what she¡¯d do before she even made a sound had hurt her. Or that the only person who treated her as herself, instead of just the daughter of Lexington Bank & Trust¡¯s founder and CEO, was lying somewhere as vermin food, forgotten by all but his father and sister. It was a fate that clawed at her soul, because the same thing had happened to an acquaintance of hers due to a drug overdose. The young woman knew what she had to do, even if it meant sneaking away without her father knowing. Even if it was the first time she¡¯d disobey him. But he had taught her well. He had taught her to stand up for herself, to fight for what she believed in, even if it gashed her heart into myriad pieces. She was not a little girl anymore, but a young woman. Capable. Strong. An Achroite, the best of humanity, at least according to the government¡¯s propaganda, but she didn¡¯t think herself better than others. So, leaving a tear-soaked note in her father¡¯s studio, telling him where she was going and what she was planning to do, the young woman skulked away, past the servants in a house whose every nook and cranny she had memorized. Once at the heliport, she ordered the pilot to take her to Wessex, the capital of the United States of the North, or USN, the newly formed nation east of her own. She lived in the Jointly Administered Territories of the Pacific, where the laws were more flexible than in the USN, where the USN¡¯s ideology had not fully taken hold yet, but where it¡¯d soon be adopted. Soon everyone would believe the same things, behave in the same way. An ideological cleansing of our own making. Because we were too distracted to notice. The young woman didn¡¯t know if that was for the better or worse, though, as she had never ventured abroad. For the first time, she would dare to go into the lands she¡¯d only known through holographic screens and books. For the first time, she¡¯d brave the heavily shelled cities of the Eastern seaboard, go to the capital by the Atlantic, to the Capital of Rebirth, where the Chairman of the nation had declared a new world arisen, a future that was now. When the pilot started the plane, she hesitated for a second and almost told him to stop, that she wanted to get out. What her father had told her pounded through her mind. That for all its importance and haughty title, for all the appeal the government tried to bestow upon it, the capital city Wessex was nothing but a repository of crime-prone refugees from the Unification. People who, no matter what, the Chairman would not have been able to civilize. People of a nascent terrorist movement who would kidnap her for ransom and soon cause a civil war in the political powder keg that was the capital. That no one in their right mind would visit that wretched city unless they absolutely had to. As the jet took off, the young woman gazed upon the ash that Yellowstone had brought upon the land. The radiated rivers that made up the free lands of the Rim and the poisonous smoke rising from the country¡¯s many Eugenex generators. She took a deep breath and projected a hologram through her smartwatch. She looked one last time at the hologram of the young man who she thought ¡­ who she knew would help her find her brother. At the bridger who was her last hope. Her family¡¯s last hope. The world¡¯s last hope. Cael Cavanaugh. Chapter 1: The Girl in the Veil With my mind decided but with my soul hauling me away, I hesitated a second before opening the door that stood in front of me, the door that meant the Chairman had won, that they had won. That four months of famine and thirst inside the barbed-wire gates that enclosed Tenement Number 3 and segregated us from the rest of our nation¡¯s capital had undone the seven years I¡¯d spent fighting in the Rebirth School and gutted my prideful boasts about how I¡¯d never succumb. God must have meant it to be a lesson of sorts. That or a humbling trial I was supposed to pass, but I felt I¡¯d failed Him. This wasn¡¯t how things were supposed to have gone. And yet¡­ A clump of human waste, dead pests, and assorted putrescent substances crashed into my shoes, and I could feel the slimy streams of wastewater that flowed beneath our crumbling, cratered streets oozing into my socks, dampening my feet with a stench I was already used to. It seriously made me wonder whether I¡¯d done the right thing by drinking the little smuggled water we could get ahold of instead of showering. Then again, at this point, fetid fumes and skin rashes were the least of my problems. Seven years. My mind kept obsessing on that number. Hammering my brain until I turned back and returned to my family¡¯s room, a claustrophobic living space shared with fifteen other souls in a lightless communal apartment the size of a shoebox that two hundred people called home, where everyone had to answer nature¡¯s call in common buckets and march down the stairs to hurl their contents into the forever-drenched streets we walked on. I usually disposed of my family¡¯s waste by throwing it directly into the noxious sewers beneath us, if only to prevent an outbreak of cholera or dysentery. The Enhanceds thought themselves too clean to ever be infected with poor-people diseases. But diseases didn¡¯t care about fences. Nature didn¡¯t care about death gates. Only we did. Besides, for my job, I needed the Enhanceds alive, even if they thought of me as nothing but a Natural they occasionally needed, an inferior being who didn¡¯t want to inject himself with the poison they called Eugenex, a viscous, synthetic substance derived from an extinct mineral that granted people telekinesis and the ability to survive without food and water for years, depending on the grade purchased. It had helped millions survive the food shortages that ensued after Yellowstone erupted and the tremors devasted nuclear plants in the Midwest, which brought about radiation clouds all across the Great Plains and America¡¯s most fertile lands. The catch, though, was that Eugenex made people lose their faith. Affected the part of your brain linked to religious beliefs. I had seen it happen to my classmates at the Rebirth School, which was more an indoctrination center than anything, for refugees from Europe¡¯s subjugation, Eudora Sinclair¡¯s vision of a world united under her rule. The purpose of the school was to learn the virtues of R¨ªceabl?d, or the People¡¯s Spirit, the USN¡¯s guiding ideology, and become Enhanceds, proper citizens of the nation that ensured progress and justice for all. The Rebirth School I studied in had a multi-religious chapel of sorts that everyone used at the beginning, but once pupils started taking Eugenex, people stopped going, until only three of us attended, and the Chairman decided to close it down, to force us to take Eugenex, to force us to become slaves to his drug. Because once you took it, you couldn¡¯t stop taking your monthly dose. If you did, eventually you¡¯d die. And here I was, about to take my first shot of that poison. I stood in front of the Zielkkenhom Foundation¡¯s tenement office, the only building that looked hospitable and clean and had windows, running water, and electricity. I could feel the comforting air conditioner from outside. All the other crammed buildings still not fully repaired from the war served as nothing but blank canvases for terrorist graffiti from a growing rebel movement. As nothing but decrepit pillars whose paint was peeling off, whose leaks and fissures made it rain inside and kept everyone clustered in staircases without handrails, where the pouring rainwater mixed with acid smoke from Eugenex¡¯s manufacturing process wouldn¡¯t singe their skin. Where the huddled masses waited for a hope that I wasn¡¯t sure would come, for a liberator who would grant them the quality of life they deserved. And short of influential Achroites¡ªthose at the top of the USN¡¯s class system, those with the purest grade of Eugenex snaking through their veins¡ªdemanding change, that liberator would have to be either Eugenex or a violent revolution. I wanted to believe in a third way, in achieving reform through peace, but after four months of no paid job requests, I had no other choice. I placed my hand on the office¡¯s entrance door. I was a bridger, someone with a genetic mutation that allowed me to freely travel through the Bridge, an ethereal space between the real world and the online world. My job consisted of saving people who got trapped in the Bridge, those either going to or returning from VirtuaNet, a popular online game, because if someone stayed in the Bridge for over five minutes, they¡¯d become a data packet and be forever stuck in a dark void as something that wasn¡¯t dead but not alive either. A fate that made death seem a sweet reprieve. I was a Class D bridger with a success rate of ninety-five percent, one of the highest for all bridgers, top of my class when I graduated from the Rebirth School. But because I was a Natural, the monied Enhanceds, the Achroites and Fenglas, didn¡¯t want to hire me because they trusted their own kind more. The Wyrhtan, a mid-class that separated the low and high classes, were too focused on arts and psychedelic drugs to play virtual games, so they weren¡¯t a source of income either. I only got hired by relatively poor or working-class Enhanceds, the Impures and Esneas mostly. Fenglas, Wyrhtan, and Esneas were the proper plural forms of Fengel, Wyrhta, and Esne, respectively. All courtesy of Old English, the language the Chairman wanted to promote as a way to connect with our¡­ his ancestral homeland in Britain. Ironically, few people spoke it fluently, only the highest of the Enhanceds and Rebirth School graduates. The former because they wanted to impress the Chairman and gain lucrative government contracts. The latter because new refugees needed to integrate into society¡¯s most favored ideals. Most did. At too high a cost. The Impures I rarely charged because they tended to be somewhat poor and lived mainly on government subsidies, though they didn¡¯t have to risk death like us Naturals. And the Esneas I never charged because that was the class tasked with police and military functions, so I wanted them on my side in case I ever needed their assistance. But I couldn¡¯t feed my family on pro-bono jobs. I couldn¡¯t take care of my family on only one paid job request every four months. My mom, my wheelchair-bound sister, my older brother, they never said anything, but I knew they were hungry. I knew they were thirsty. And I didn¡¯t want them risking dysentery because I couldn¡¯t afford to buy black-market clean water bottles smuggled from outside the gates. And whatever income they could make was meager compared to what I could bring as a bridger to wealthy Achroites and upper-middle class Fenglas. I took a deep breath, fully aware of the gravity of what I was about to do. I gazed at the clouds, whose verdant hue brought about by the fumes of Eugenex production perennially dimmed the tenement¡¯s sky and sometimes that of the entire capital. I asked God to forgive me for what I was about to do. Or better yet, that I could take Eugenex but suffer no side effects. That I wouldn¡¯t lose my faith. But I had never seen that happen. A fist of dread clouted my heart when I thought that. Smacked my soul when I opened the door, but a second before I stepped inside and sealed my fate for good, I saw someone attempting to smuggle energy bars and water bottles into the tenement. Someone I knew. And Esne guards who had never hired me incoming. Probably alerted by someone else. If you ratted out smugglers, you¡¯d get a week¡¯s worth of food and clean water without having to take Eugenex, so many in the tenement went that route. I didn¡¯t.The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. They¡¯d soon catch the smuggler. And kill him. Smuggling was a crime punishable by death if caught in flagrante delicto, as if society itself forced you to take Eugenex. I guess that was the point. That the Chairman always won. That his worldview would triumph in the end. I didn¡¯t want that to be true and wasn¡¯t sure if it would happen, but I was certain of one thing. Those Esneas would kill my brother. I had to do something. I shut the door and raced to him. Leaped past people drinking sewage water and forgotten cadavers that specked our streets and crashed into him. Sheer shock flared from his partner¡¯s eyes. Someone I knew as well. My older brother snatched his bag before it fell into the wastewater beneath us. ¡°Careful with that, dearth¨¢ir,¡± he said, kind of chuckling but with unmistakable terror in his eyes. ¡°That¡¯s our supply for today. We can¡¯t go losing that because you can¡¯t wait to see your dearth¨¢ir now, can we?¡± Dearth¨¢ir. Irish for brother. Four years older than me and a head taller, with jet-black hair he was trying to grow until it passed his neck. Naturally broad-shouldered, with well-built arms and with a sturdy physique, my brother Fearghal always managed to be among the first to get jobs when the Impures were on vacation. Usually in waste management and construction, since those were the jobs Impures were genetically predisposed to do, as their Eugenex enhanced their muscles so they¡¯d grow at a faster rate than normal and wouldn¡¯t tire as easily. But they still wanted vacations like the rest of the classes, so Naturals filled that void. Now, however, was peak construction season, and the Chairman was building a tower to surpass all towers, and every Impure in the capital wanted to say they helped build it, as if that would make them look better in the eyes of the wealthy so they¡¯d buy a higher-grade Eugenex for them. Though vapid and shallow, the Impures were the only ones who treated the Naturals with a semblance of respect, so I didn¡¯t mind. ¡°Are you out of your mind, Fearghal?¡± I turned my head and signaled to the approaching Esneas. ¡°Look over there.¡± I paused a second to compose my voice so it didn¡¯t sound broken. ¡°We haven¡¯t seen Pa ever since the subjugation.¡± I prayed he was alive, and a part of me wanted to believe it, but my mind told me otherwise. ¡°I don¡¯t want to lose you too.¡± Fearghal groaned. ¡°So what are we supposed to do, then, Cael?¡± he said. ¡°Starve? Die of cholera?¡± He remained silent for a moment. Trying to find the right words. ¡°Bridging jobs have been scarce these past months¡­¡± His fraternal way to put it, so I didn¡¯t feel too bad about it. I appreciated that about him. ¡°I¡¯m the big brother, dearth¨¢ir,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯m the one who has to protect you. I¡¯m the one who has to put food on the table, not the other way around. Just focus on training to become a better bridger, so that despite being a Natural, the Achroites will hire you.¡± My brother¡¯s partner chuckled lightly. Usually I was the na?ve one, but sometimes Fearghal took the spot. For now, at least. Before the incident that made him lose his joy. ¡°Is this how you¡¯ve been acquiring the food we eat? The water we drink? For how long?¡± ¡°You¡¯re not the only one who can smuggle things,¡± he said. He was kind of enraged but trying to sound as calm as possible, so I didn¡¯t think he was mad at me. ¡°I have an understanding with some Esneas,¡± I whispered. ¡°I bridge for them for free. They turn a blind eye when I smuggle things. But I don¡¯t know if they¡¯ll cut you some slack, especially since I don¡¯t know the Esneas who are coming for you.¡± Concern didn¡¯t pound my brain when Fearghal¡¯s partner heard about my arrangement with the guards, because I knew him. He was Dyse, a speech-impaired fellow with a thinning head of hair despite being in his early twenties. I had helped him escape from the Bridge once. For free, of course, so I knew he wouldn¡¯t talk. He never went into VirtuaNet again. ¡°Well, it¡¯s your fault really, dearth¨¢ir.¡± Fearghal chuckled. ¡°While you were in Rebirth School, you got us accustomed to fine meats and running water, to air-conditioning and fancy vegetables. I don¡¯t like hearing my stomach growl.¡± The reward for indoctrination. That your family was taken care of. An offer no refugee could refuse. Dyse turned to my brother. ¡°Is this a game to you?¡± he said in sign language. Fearghal winced, as did I, surprised at the reaction. ¡°We have to fight them,¡± Dyse added. ¡°We¡¯re not crap. They have no right to treat us like that.¡± ¡°I know, Dyse, I know,¡± I said. Tranquil. Trying to diffuse the ire that seemed to be building in his face. ¡°But if they immobilize us with their telekinesis, we¡¯re done. We shouldn¡¯t head into a fight we know we¡¯re going to lose.¡± Dyse stomped on the street. He knew I was right. My brother knew as well. ¡°So let¡¯s¡ª¡± A mix of wrath and fear mantled Fearghal¡¯s face as he pushed Dyse and me into an alleyway beside a building. A bullet pinged the barbed-wire gate as well as an air blast. The telekinesis Eugenex granted you could help you compact air particles around you until you formed a solidified wind blast of sorts. As deadly as any bullet. Blood seeped from my brother¡¯s arm. ¡°You two stay here,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯ll stall.¡± For a second there I thought of escaping with Dyse as my brother rushed to his certain death, but I wouldn¡¯t. I couldn¡¯t. If I died, I probably had better chance of going to Heaven than him, or at least Purgatory. Fearghal wasn¡¯t exactly aspiring for holiness. So I dashed away and snatched the smuggled goods bags from him and tossed them into the air. ¡°It is I, Bridger Extraordinaire Cael Cavanaugh,¡± I hollered, as haughtily as I could. ¡°Smuggling goods into the tenement.¡± Fearghal clenched his fists. ¡°Damn you, Cael! Trying to get yourself killed? If you¡¯re gone I¡ª¡± ¡°I¡¯m faster than you,¡± I said. ¡°Besides, if it gets too dangerous, I can bridge. You can¡¯t.¡± My brother didn¡¯t want me to take the fall for his actions, but no time remained, so he just hugged me and added, ¡°Come home.¡± He and Dyse scurried away in different directions as I awaited the bullets and air blasts, but none struck me. Not even by accident. Something was up. They wouldn¡¯t let someone off the hook for smuggling so easily. Especially not someone who had taunted them. I skulked past the maze of alleys between the buildings and saw why. They were beating up Dyse. Maybe he¡¯d tripped? His blood dyed the wastewaters crimson. Then they forced a clump of waste into his mouth. That was it. ¡°Pummeling someone who can¡¯t escape is the sign of pathetic weaklings who don¡¯t deserve to be called human beings,¡± I said. ¡°Or even animals, for that matter. Why don¡¯t you take it up with someone who can defeat you?¡± I took a deep breath so fear wouldn¡¯t overwhelm me. So they thought I had gotten Enhanced or something like that. And could defeat them. The Esneas spit on Dyse and approached me, both lean and athletic, immobilizing and lifting me in the air from afar. Dyse stood up and remained still, but I signaled him to dash away now that I had distracted them. Dyse remained still for three seconds, then hobbled away, though not before sending a text through his smartwatch. I hoped to my brother. One of the Esneas punched my chest, and I coughed up blood. ¡°Well, well, if it isn¡¯t a bridger in the flesh.¡± ¡°People with disabilities and powerless Naturals. Your victims,¡± I said. ¡°You¡¯re a disgrace to this nation.¡± The other Esne elbowed my temple. Blood stained my shirt red. A ringing invaded my ear, growing in pitch, and I lost consciousness for two seconds. ¡°One of you idiots couldn¡¯t save my girlfriend from the Bridge,¡± the Esne said. ¡°Said he couldn¡¯t find her.¡± He kneed my stomach. I didn¡¯t grunt. I wouldn¡¯t give them the satisfaction. ¡°They couldn¡¯t save my kid brother, either,¡± the other Esne said. He then snatched a cluster of dead vermin and smashed it into my face. Broke my nose. Blood and other stuff I pretended wasn¡¯t there dripped into my mouth and down my chin. ¡°No words? Asshole!¡± One of the Esneas pounded my chest again. A crack resonated. I ran out of breath. The next one would go for the kill. Was this the end? At least I had died taking care of my friends and family. That should help me in my trial, right? The Esne pressed his hand on my forehead, ready to burst my head open and blow up my brains, very literally, but a second before he could, footsteps resounded. But not my brother¡¯s. ¡°In the name of Aisha Lexington, daughter of Lawrence Lexington, CEO of Lexington Bank and Trust, I command you,¡± a voice stated. Solemn. Stately. ¡°Leave this young man alone!¡± Two air blasts pierced the skulls of the Esneas. They plummeted to the streets like the pests they were. I crashed down as well, pressing one of my hands against a roach. I swiped it away with a soft yelp. I might have been used to the stench of the tenement, but not to vermin carcasses on my hand. ¡°Medium complexion, wavy nut-brown hair of mid length, and forest-green eyes,¡± I heard Aisha Lexington say to herself before stepping toward me, a veil around her head. She extended her arm to help me stand up, despite me being a Natural and she being one of the highest Achroites in the nation. Despite my grimy hands. ¡°Bridger Cael Cavanaugh,¡± she said, ¡°your world is about to change.¡± Chapter 2: Job Request It was the first time I saw an Achroite up close. Well, technically the second time, given that the first Achroite I saw up close was the Chairman, when he came to visit his top Rebirth School, with a Natural-to-Enhanced conversion rate of 98%, but he didn¡¯t seem that majestic or awe-inspiring that time. Probably since he wasn¡¯t trying to delude anyone into thinking he was a deity as he did when he introduced Eugenex to the world. Or perhaps I had mixed feelings about him, and my bias clouded my view of him. But Aisha Lexington seemed to have come straight from a utopic arcadia rid of evil and imperfections. With soft, delicate facial features, a graceful build like that of a classical dancer, a translucent snow-white veil that covered her midnight hair, and radiant pecan skin, it was as if she sparked hope in the midst of our misery. As if what little sunlight could seep through the Eugenex clouds that blocked the skies glinted through her veil to brighten our view. And yet, she still looked like a Natural. Most Enhanceds had synthetic hues applied to their bodies to surpass nature, to say that they could do a better job than God. But no synthetic hues marred Aisha. Concern did beam from her eyes, though, no matter how poised and collected she was trying to act. I wiped my hands on my shirt, but before I took Aisha¡¯s hand, I felt bad for letting her help me when my hands had smashed raw sewage. I could perfectly stand up on my own, so I did just that. Slight disappointment veiled her face. Maybe she didn¡¯t mind? She wasn¡¯t hovering. One of Eugenex¡¯s benefits. All Enhanceds save the Chairman hovered when they visited the tenements. ¡°Bridger Cael Cavanaugh, I have a¡ª¡± Footsteps approached, and a splash of wastewater drenched my legs. Aisha dodged it with ease. Unfazed. ¡°I¡¯m here for you, dearth¨¢ir,¡± Fearghal said. ¡°Ready to kill¡­¡± He surveyed the aftermath and didn¡¯t flinch when he spotted the corpses of the Esneas who were going to send me to the afterlife. Their somewhat translucent blood had already crystallized by that point. That was another of Eugenex¡¯s¡ªfor lack of a better word¡ªbenefits. If you were wounded, not only would the wound heal faster, the blood around it would crystalize and create an almost impervious ruby-looking scab around it. It didn¡¯t help a lot if you died from said wound, of course. That was why Aisha had pierced the skulls of those Esneas. The only way to block Eugenex¡¯s healing process was by attacking someone¡¯s brain, so it wouldn¡¯t order the body¡¯s enhanced cells to heal themselves. My brother kicked the corpses, a mix of rage and regret in his face. Not because those guards had died, but because he wasn¡¯t the one who slaughtered them. Then he turned his head to Aisha, almost in terror that he had forgotten the usual formalities. He bowed a tad. ¡°¨¢gend Lexington,¡± he stammered, hoping that she wouldn¡¯t have him killed for disrespecting an Achroite. ¡°To what do we owe your presence in this humble tenement?¡± ¨¢gend. Master. Fearghal tried his best to sound like an Achroite, but it came out as if he was mocking their accent, which they rarely used except to brag in front of the Chairman and his sycophants. A hint of sadness glinted in Aisha¡¯s face, though I guessed it was aimed not so much at my brother but at the fact that society had instilled such terror in people who were equals. ¡°Those pleasantries shan¡¯t be necessary,¡± she said with a heavy Achroite accent. But then she smiled. ¡°You can call me Aisha, both of you.¡± Now she dropped the accent. My brother gave a short sigh, perhaps because he thought she was going to kill me as well. ¡°The question still stands, ¨¢ge¡ª Aisha,¡± he said. ¡°What brings you to the gutters? And without bodyguards.¡± Only the Chairman dared to do that. But solely because he wanted the Naturals to believe him. To listen to him. To turn him into their hope. Their cause. Most Naturals would have never hurt anyone, though. It was nothing but a handful of wannabe terrorists calling themselves freedom fighters who thought a bloody civil war was the answer. Who didn¡¯t think it fair that they had to take Eugenex to achieve a decent life. It wasn¡¯t. Everyone could see that. But I could not support kidnappings and extrajudicial killings. Those idiots had no moral compass. And they¡¯d ruined the rest of the Naturals¡¯ reputation and good name. Aisha stepped toward me. ¡°Cael Cavanaugh, I have a job request for you.¡± Joy bloomed in my brother¡¯s face. ¡°He¡¯ll take it,¡± he blurted out. ¡°Whoever needs saving.¡± Confusion shone in Aisha¡¯s eyes. ¡°All right¡­¡± Her voice trailed off, perhaps because she hadn¡¯t thought it would be so easy. I turned to my brother. ¡°Let¡¯s just hear what Aisha has to say first,¡± I said, still not fully aware of what I¡¯d embark on. ¡°What do you need to know, dearth¨¢ir?¡± he said, still radiating happiness. ¡°It¡¯s Aisha Lexington, Cael. Aisha Lexington. Her bank¡¯s the biggest in the country.¡± He put his hands on my shoulders. ¡°If you succeed, you could immediately leap to Class B, if not Class A. And the money¡ª¡± He turned back to Aisha. ¡°We¡¯re talking about millions as a fee, right?¡± An ice blade froze my veins. ¡°Goodness, Fearghal,¡± I said, mostly embarrassed. ¡°What¡¯s wrong with you?¡± I faced Aisha. ¡°Don¡¯t mind him, he¡ª¡± Aisha chuckled. ¡°Please do not hold me in such high regard, Cael,¡± she said. ¡°I have no intention of pretending I¡¯m a deity.¡± She gazed at her surroundings almost comically. ¡°Besides, we are all the same when nature calls.¡± My brother laughed. I didn¡¯t. Out of disbelief that an Achroite would make that type of joke. ¡°For the record, though, Cael, if you fulfill my job request in a timely fashion,¡± Aisha said, ¡°you could indeed be looking forward to immediate Class A status, a promise from me to vouch for internal reforms to grant Naturals the same rights as Enhanceds, and a billion dollars so you and your family never have to fret over a lack of means.¡±This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. I could finally achieve my little sister Ellie¡¯s dream of peace and equality between all. Perhaps she could finally get the operation she needed and open her eyes to a better world. A fairer world. The world she prayed for every day. My brother grabbed my shoulders again and shook me. ¡°A billion, dearth¨¢ir,¡± he whispered to me, giddy. ¡°A billion.¡± I almost instantly agreed, but then I thought that it was a little too easy. Suddenly an Achroite arrived and would pay me a billion dollars and help achieve the reforms needed to stave off a civil war and nip that terrorist movement before it infected us all. For one job. If it were several jobs, I¡¯d understand, but just one? It seemed too good to be true, but Aisha seemed trustworthy. More than some Naturals, and definitely more than every other Enhanced. I didn¡¯t want to doubt her, but my mind kept racing through the scenarios. Would I have to save the creator of Eugenex? The manufacturer of Eugenex? The Chairman himself? Save my enemies? It had never really dawned on me that that¡¯s what being a Class A+ bridger meant, that that¡¯s what saving the Achroites meant. Saving your enemies. Saving those who kept you down. Saving those who thought you an inferior being. Saving those who thought it okay for everyone to die of dysentery and have to smuggle water to survive. Was that really what I wanted to do for the rest of my life? Wrath began to sear my veins, so I prayed for tranquility, because Jesus said we had to love our enemies, so I began to stall, thinking about what I wanted my life to be like. ¡°W-w-what is it?¡± Nothing could have prepared me for Aisha¡¯s job request. It was worse than everything I had thought of. ¡°My brother, Logan Lexington, he¡­¡± She paused a second to compose herself. Tears began to form, but she forced them back into her eyes. She would not cry in public. I wouldn¡¯t either. Made you look weak. ¡°Logan has gone missing in VirtuaNet,¡± she said coldly, flatly. Perhaps so emotions didn¡¯t overwhelm her. ¡°He was supposed to return home two weeks ago, but that did not happen.¡± She stepped right in front of me, seized my hands, and gazed right into my eyes, as if she wanted to peer into my soul, to the point I could see my reflection in her dark-brown eyes. ¡°I want you to find him, Cael. I want you to bring him home safely. I¡­¡± Her voice began to break, so I hugged her. ¡°I¡¯m sure he¡¯s alive, Aisha. He wouldn¡¯t abandon his family like that.¡± ¡°Thank you, Cael,¡± she said, still forcing herself not to cry. I wanted to help her. I really did. I knew what it was like to hope that despite all odds, one of your family members was safe and sound somewhere, thinking about you. But being a bridger meant I had a high genetic compatibility with VirtuaNet, which meant that whatever happened to me in the virtual world could affect me in the real world, although to a lesser degree. For instance, if I died in game from a blow to the chest, my heart could stop in real life. And I¡¯d need CPR to restart it. There was a bridger who had tried making money in VirtuaNet, but he got defeated by a sword strike to his neck. When he logged off he didn''t die, but he was paralyzed from the neck down. I had only one option, which made me feel like I¡¯d taken a gravity blast burst to my chest. I couldn¡¯t breathe, and a hammer pounded my heart, but I had made up my mind. ¡°I¡­ I¡­¡± I glanced away. I couldn¡¯t bear to look at her when I told her my answer. ¡°I can¡¯t¡ª¡± My brother grabbed my arm, for the first time, truly mad at me. ¡°Are you trying to sabotage your success, Cael? Your life? Abandon someone who needs you?¡± I thought about shouting I don¡¯t want to end up paralyzed, but that sounded selfish, so I said, ¡°If I¡¯m in VirtuaNet, who¡¯s going to help the Naturals here? Bridge for them if someone they know gets trapped?¡± Technically not a lie, as that was one of my concerns too. But in that moment, the cadavers that pocked our streets became the sole thing I could see. Would I end up like them? Would I let Aisha¡¯s brother end up like that? Because of my selfishness? Because of my fear? ¡°If you¡¯re worried about what the Naturals will think of you if you succeed, if you help the Achroite whose bank imprisons them for unpaid loans, then be at ease knowing that they already hate you anyway,¡± Fearghal said. ¡°They loathe the fact that we had food and water while they had to see their families die of dysentery and starvation. They call you rebirth boy. The Chairman¡¯s bootlicker. Only a handful, though. But you can still notice their resentment when you talk to them.¡± He clenched his fists. ¡°They don¡¯t appreciate everything you do for them.¡± He then lowered his voice. ¡°Aisha will. Aisha does.¡± I knew my brother made sense. On all fronts. And I kept running out of excuses, so I whispered the truth. ¡°What if I fail? What if I¡­?¡± He hugged me. ¡°Then I¡¯ll be there to save you, dearth¨¢ir.¡± I chuckled. Even Aisha smiled. A nice moment. One ruined by a roach that tried to climb up my leg, but still. I stepped toward her. ¡°I will take your job request, Aisha.¡± A grin brightened her face. ¡°I will find your brother. I will bring him back safe and sound.¡± She hugged me. ¡°We have a deal, then, Cael.¡± She sent the request through the Standardized Bridging System display. I activated my smartwatch, and a holographic screen emerged from it, displaying my account for the SBS. Big enough for me to read it with ease but small enough so others couldn¡¯t. Client: Aisha Lexington Job Request: Find her brother Logan Lexington and bring him back to the real world alive. Does Class D Bridger Cael Cavanaugh accept the request? Accept. Deny. I tapped Accept, and the request was activated. We then headed to our apartment, where people thought Aisha was a starvation-induced hallucination because no Achroite would ever set foot in our tenement, much less someone like Aisha Lexington. But they realized she was real when she gave them some money to buy black market water bottles and energy bars. Pennies to her, a world of difference for the Naturals. It saddened her that people had to go to such lengths to acquire vital goods, but she had a brother to find. And she would not let anything else distract her. Aisha drew out a headpiece from a knapsack she was carrying and handed it to me. ¡°So we can communicate while you¡¯re in VirtuaNet.¡± After she had explained to me what to expect once I entered the game, I was ready to head in. My heart wanted to rip open my chest, but I wouldn¡¯t let fear defeat me. I had to be strong for my family. For Aisha. For the Naturals I could help. I took one deep breath, soaking in all the stenches of the tenement, and logged in to VirtuaNet. A needle emerged from my smartwatch and injected me with a substance that put my body in a sort of hibernation state while I played online. Kind of dangerous to be that vulnerable while you played an online game, but most Enhanceds played in the safety of their homes, logging in through their smartwatches, and almost every Natural played in heavily guarded VirtuaNet parlors, where Esneas made sure to keep them safe. They did this under penalty of death, even if an Achroite attacked Naturals while playing. It was the safest place for Naturals to be, ironically. All, of course, thanks to a hefty donation to the Chairman¡¯s Foundation by Lezavre Corporation, VirtuaNet¡¯s developer. And everyone cheered for that. I could feel how the substance numbed my organs, my senses, my sense of time. I couldn¡¯t make out Aisha or my brother¡¯s senses as my smartwatch scanned my DNA and replicated it for my game character. I thought that it would hurt, but it didn¡¯t. The pain would come later. It could have been an hour for all I knew, when in actuality, only three seconds elapsed; I managed to note that much before my eyes shut and everything went dark. I was inside. With that, I was in the Bridge, ready to head to VirtuaNet. Chapter 3: Welcome to VirtuaNet It was the first time I¡¯d logged in to VirtuaNet, and the first time I sped through the Bridge without moving, without bridging. When I bridged, I leaped in right through my smartwatch, and in a way, virtualized my real body online, in the network that connected all devices and appliances to the internet. It made me feel safe in a way. Because I was in control. Because I could decide when to return to the real world. Everything depended on my actions. But now, logging in as a virtualized copy of myself, dread immobilized my veins. Because I wasn¡¯t in control¡ªLezavre Corporation was. And I knew how they failed at times to keep players safe. My job depended on that. I thought I had already become accustomed to the hollow, isolated void that was the Bridge. To its eternal darkness, only briefly brightened by the light bursts of people coming and going from VirtuaNet. To its eternal silence only briefly alleviated by the sounds of people¡¯s agonized voices, pleading for help when they got trapped. To its temperatures so cold that they charred your skin, and in bridgers¡¯ cases, left actual burn scars on our bodies. But that was when I could freely move through it, as if I were in space, unburdened by gravity and pressure. Now I was immobile. Now, I wasn¡¯t in the majestic world of space, but in the terror-pulsing depths of the ocean. Trapped in a submarine I could not escape from. Immobilized by pressure. Anxiety began to invade my mind. Claustrophobia set in. I couldn¡¯t move. VirtuaNet¡¯s safety guide stated that you shouldn¡¯t move while being transported to the game and back to the real world. That would increase your chances of getting trapped in the Bridge to almost 100%. And I didn¡¯t want to risk it. No bridger had dared to see what would happen if they bridged while being virtualized, and I wouldn¡¯t be the first. But that was all I could think about now. I could feel sweat trickling down my arms, but I didn¡¯t know if it was for real or if my mind was playing tricks on me. I had to do something. Before I blew Aisha¡¯s job request without even starting. I thought on the positives of being virtualized by Lezavre. At least the system didn¡¯t think I was a virus. When I bridged, the system considered my real body a foreign entity bent on destroying it, a virus, so it would send antiviruses and firewalls to eradicate me from the world. And I had to dodge them, because getting caught by one of those things usually meant getting trapped and becoming a data packet yourself, something I knew all too well. But being virtualized meant the system wouldn¡¯t consider you a virus and therefore would not strike. Nothing would attack you. Try to make your destiny worse than death. Calm began to soothe me. Tranquility settled my heart. I wasn¡¯t in pain. I hadn¡¯t realized it until now, but being virtualized meant that you didn¡¯t feel the scorching ice of the Bridge, as if the light burst Lezavre transported you in protected you from the truth of the place. Perhaps that was the point. Perhaps that was Lezavre¡¯s motive for VirtuaNet. To protect you from the world. Always safe, always shielded. To help you escape the vicissitudes of the real world. To make you hope for them, just like Zielkkenhom and his sycophants wanted people to believe in him and Eugenex. Disappointment pounded my soul. Because we were falling for it. And I could understand why. I could see the appeal of that proposition. In their minds, at least, they probably considered themselves the most moral, righteous, gracious of us all, guiding us toward a better future. A future that I could see coming true. Sadly. I still hadn¡¯t fully regained my sense of time when my environment changed. I wasn¡¯t in the Bridge anymore, but in a picturesque landscape that looked like Heaven, or at least what I thought Heaven looked like. The most pristine sky I had ever seen. A gentle waft that refreshed you. Mansions of gold atop pearl clouds. My favorite music playing in the background. Was that VirtuaNet¡¯s doing? Designed to make people want to play? Aisha had told me VirtuaNet was like the real world, with cities, towns, and land features, not like Heaven. And I had never heard anyone comment about it. She said that most people were prompted to make their characters once inside VirtuaNet, and then they emerged on Peuma Island, the place where the game dropped all beginners. But then it hit me. What if VirtuaNet¡¯s AI had access to your mind, your deepest memories and desires, and crafted the game accordingly? And that was why I was welcomed to VirtuaNet with a heavenly scene? Was Lezavre Corporation storing a database of people¡¯s most hidden hopes and fears? Or worse, sharing it? Selling it? I wondered how I could have been so dumb as to not think about my privacy beforehand. I was about to activate my headpiece and ask Aisha if I could fully read VirtuaNet¡¯s EULA and Lezavre¡¯s privacy policy and terms of use, to see if they said Lezavre had access to your memories, but a system prompt emerged in front of me. Player Cael Cavanaugh¡¯s DNA virtualization process complete. The game knew who I was without needing me to make an account or identify myself. I guessed VirtuaNet was synced to my USN government-issued smartwatch, which was already linked to my DNA sequence. Hurray for corporatism, I supposed. Two seconds later, a new holographic screen materialized. I had already regained my sense of time, which I definitely needed to properly bridge. Welcome to VirtuaNet, the world¡¯s leading online game! Player Cael Cava¡ª A second later, the letters vanished, and the screen faded. Swift pain, like a burst of lightning, shot through my veins as the Heaven I was in turned into the nightmare I thought I¡¯d never relive. The nightmare I thought I had escaped from. I was back at the Rebirth School graduation ceremony. In a field of freshly cut grass and ferns pocked with critters of all sorts and the most pristine, clear snow I had ever seen, berry bushes of all sorts and a few fruit-bearing trees. Surrounded by stone walls modeled after the Anglian Tower of the Old World, the ruins of a former castle that now served as a sort of bleachers for the onlookers to gather and cheer for the winners of the strategy game that made up the last segment of the Rebirth School¡¯s graduation exams. Or in my case, to clamor for my death. The familiar taunts and jeers pounded my brain all over again. With a lynch mob ready to skin me alive because of lost bets. Protected only, ironically, by a squad of Esneas, all enraged at the fact that they couldn¡¯t kill me. All but one.This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. I was not the candidate who was supposed to win. Everything felt as real as when I had experienced it for the first time back in the real world. ¡°What an extraordinarily odd year this has been, full of inventive, intricate strategies and ploys,¡± the school¡¯s headmaster said. She was a middle-aged woman of harsh words; sharp, lioness-like facial features; and long sepia hair tied in a ponytail, who despite her tough exterior, did actually care for her students. Even though she was most likely a High Fengel, a subclass of Fengel usually in important government positions, probably soon to be granted Achroite Eugenex for her school¡¯s superior academic quality and rigor. My class had the highest graduating score of all the Rebirth Schools in the country, ever since the system was established. ¡°One that may never repeat itself again, but that truly exemplified our national spirit and guiding principles,¡± the headmaster said. Joy resonated in her voice. R¨ªceabl?d. Dread drowned me, though. Because I knew who she meant with those words. ¡°And the top graduate for this year is¡­¡± the school¡¯s headmaster said as she held my arm up. ¡°Cael Cavanaugh!¡± Laughter and happiness echoed in her voice, but I didn¡¯t know if it was genuine or if she had been practicing for the last hour. A gentle zephyr wafted its way toward us and made the headmaster¡¯s ponytail flicker against her back in a soothing manner. It did not calm the crowd, though, who instead of ¡°merely¡± yelling for me to be burned alive as they had been doing earlier, decided to leap from the walls and into the field where I was and charge right at me. Even the Esneas meant to protect me aimed their weapons at me. Panic shot through my veins as I dashed away, deeper into the field, toward a nearby pine forest. I tried accessing the Status Screen, but nothing came up. The Equipment Menu. Item Menu. Anything. I said it. Thought it. But nothing happened. Aisha hadn¡¯t warned me anything like this could happen. I couldn¡¯t activate the headpiece. I was on my own for this one. Was the game treating me differently because I was a Natural? A bridger? After some five minutes and eleven seconds of sprinting, my body caved. Elks grazed about nearby. Petal birds, a newly discovered type of eagle that made its nest out of its lethally poisonous saliva and looked like a harpy eagle covered in maroon violets, soared off as soon as I had to lean against a tree to rest my twisted ankle; adrenaline could no longer mask the pain. I knew they had given away my location, but I couldn¡¯t keep going. I took a deep breath and tried to step forward, but I couldn¡¯t endure the pain. I chuckled. I could save people from becoming data packets, dodge antiviruses and firewalls with ease, but I was stopped by something as mundane as a twisted muscle. There had to be something ironic in that. I heard the incoming footsteps. Growls and howls on the way. Cool wafts accompanied by occasional mighty gales made the tree branches and leaves sway, almost to the point I thought some branches would break off, but none did. Had my journey into VirtuaNet ended as quickly as it started? No. Aisha trusted me. Aisha believed in me. I needed to prove to her I could do this. To her and me. To me and everyone else. I scanned the area for weapons and saw a gun and a grenade lying nearby. Perhaps the game was testing what choice would I make to assign me a class. I thought VirtuaNet let you choose your own class without any sort of trial, but maybe that was a luxury only the Enhanceds had. At first, I thought about using the grenade because it would have slaughtered everyone in the lynch mob at once, but it felt kind of brutal. I didn¡¯t know if that was the kind of player I wanted to be. Then again, the footsteps were getting louder and louder with each second, so maybe I didn¡¯t have a choice. But when I snatched the grenade, I noticed how old it seemed. Must have been lying there for ages. And I didn¡¯t know its potency either. For all I knew, it could have been just a single blast, so I discarded it and thought of something else. The gun would have been impractical as well. I could have kept running away, but my ankle still hurt. And I didn¡¯t want really to run away and hide. I wasn¡¯t sure I¡¯d find a better hiding spot or better weapons. Maybe I could use the elks. Make them attack the lynch mob, but training elks to do my bidding would take a long time. Time I didn¡¯t have. And I didn¡¯t want to think about taking on the lynch mob on with my fists, so then what? I smiled as I glanced at the tree branches above me. The poisonous nests. I punched the tree until my knuckles bled, but I managed to tumble the nests. I wrapped my shirt around my nose and mouth as a face mask of sorts to protect me from its poisonous toxins as I ground it into a fine powder that I hurled into the wind, right in the direction of the upcoming lynch mob. I then sighed in relief as I heard their wails of agony as they all stumbled and crashed to the ground, waiting to die. Waiting for the toxins to kick in. It was kind of a traumatizing death. You could feel your body paralyzed, until eventually your heart stopped beating. And then you died. A burst of guilt pounded me. Perhaps I had gone too far. But those were just virtual beings. And I needed to survive. I needed to find Aisha¡¯s brother as soon as possible. Before something I could not come back from happened. One of the members of the lynch mob died at my feet. And with that, VirtuaNet transported me back to Heaven. Or at least, what I thought Heaven looked like. Congratulations on choosing the Artist Class, Player Cael Cavanaugh! You succeeded despite your genetic abnormalities. You have a high genetic compatibility with the online world and acted in accordance with your dominant personality traits and specific neurological pathways. So Lezavre did have access to our brains. But my guess was convenience made us dismiss all other concerns. And that also must have been why VirtuaNet had locked its game menus. To make it seem as real as possible, so you¡¯d act exactly how you would have in real life. Crafty. You may grow this class, but until further notice, you may not change your class or character backstory. Furthermore, some things will be more difficult for you while playing with genetic abnormalities. Aisha had explained that much. Enhanceds started at Level 5 and leveled up at a normal rate while fighting enemies on a normal difficulty. Naturals, on the other hand, started at Level 1 and leveled up at half the rate the Enhanceds did, while fighting enemies on a hard difficulty. Enhanceds experienced decreased pain levels, while Naturals felt the same pain they¡¯d have felt in the real world. Enhanceds could receive money and equipment from people in the real world, or outright buy it in online auctions, but Naturals had to acquire everything in game and could not receive transfers or participate in auctions. So much for having Aisha buy me the best equipment to breeze through the game. But God willing, I wouldn¡¯t be staying in VirtuaNet for long. Or at least, I hoped so. But do not let this discourage you from enjoying the game. Developing superior strategies to overcome any adversities your genetics may bring about will help you rise to the top ranks of the game and achieve a better life than you could anywhere else. Apparently Lezavre wanted people to perpetually live inside their online world as zombies. Data zombies that brought them billions when they sold their information. Remember to arrange for adequate nourishment while playing. If the system detects your physical body is at risk of dehydration or starvation, you will be forced to log off and fined at Lezavre Corporation¡¯s discretion. They weren¡¯t lying about that fine. A Natural I knew stayed online once for three days until Lezavre forced him to log out. And then they imprisoned him until his family could afford the fine. He died in prison. One last piece of advice before you embark in this journey, Cael Cavanaugh: Remember to have fun and enjoy yourself. Explore everything. Secrets lurk beneath the surface for everyone, including those with genetic abnormalities. They might even affect your worlds, both online and offline. Offline as well? How would a game ¡­ As if on cue, the Heaven I was in disappeared, and the game dropped me not on Peuma Island, but somewhere else. Somewhere I had never heard anyone who had gone to VirtuaNet mention. A city encased in ice. Chapter 4: Frozen City I stood in a hoarfrost-covered passage. In a frozen city of sorts. I had heard of a capital made of ice, but it was on the surface, on the footsteps of a majestic glacier, not underground. I could see the permafrost above me. The atmosphere was so cold that the air gashed my arms, but for some reason, I felt no pain, as if I were playing as an Enhanced. Perhaps I was used to freezing winds thanks to the Bridge. I pressed my hands against the ice structures that surrounded me, but only slight pain jolted them. A single light-purple streak remained on them. I had to make sure I wasn¡¯t reckless and tempting fate. I wasn¡¯t going to get frostbitten in my first minutes in VirtuaNet. Imposing medieval Scandinavian buildings made of ice that seemed to have never melted hung from the permafrost. Multistoried towers were positioned at different angles so they resembled an octagon, with ringed turf house-like structures at the center that looked like a series of inverted trapezoids decreasing in size the further down they went. Each level was protected by its own protruding iced roof, with a triangular spire at the bottom. They were all connected by curved inclined corridors that were a feat of stamina to ascend or descend, and where a misstep would lead to certain death. An endless fall into what seemed a frozen lake awaited those who slipped and fell. Long, spacious corridors of rooms and living spaces carved right into the cavernous congealed walls seemed to peer at you anytime you surveyed the city. As if somehow someone would emerge from the ice, even though humanity had probably forsaken the city ages ago. Nothing remained. No food. No water. No weapons or tools. Only the sound of perennial silence. Only the boreal hum of my footsteps clattering against the ice. Enough to make anyone insane. But I was used to silence. For better or for worse. I tried to contact Aisha, but no sound came forth. Nothing. But while I explored the city, someone materialized in front of me. An aged man. Wrinkles mantled his face. Bald. Decrepit. But with a physique that could compete with those decades younger than him. And worse, with a death glare on his face. He was not a nice old person. The old man rushed toward me almost at the speed of sound and tried to elbow my shoulder, but I dodged it and dashed away, heading further down the passageways of the frozen city. I didn¡¯t know what to do. Was this the tutorial? Aisha had told me that someone would teach me how to fight, how to acquire skills, how to be effective in VirtuaNet, but that man didn¡¯t seem like a tutorial. He seemed like an actual enemy who¡¯d kill my character, which meant I could suffer consequences in real life. In addition to not being able to log in again until twenty-four hours had elapsed. And I didn¡¯t know if Aisha¡¯s brother Logan had twenty-four hours to spare. Heck, I didn¡¯t even have twenty-four seconds to spare. I heard the old man¡¯s footsteps and rolled away down one of the corridors, thinking I¡¯d be safe, but he sneered, as if he was enjoying trying to defeat me, and released an ice ray from his hand. Instinctively, I leaped down, hoping to catch hold of the corridors beneath me, which I did, thank God, but not before his ray struck one of my shoulders. An ice blade seared my veins when I saw what had happened. My shoulder. Completely frozen. What if that old man froze me for good? You couldn¡¯t log out while frozen or paralyzed. How long would I have to stay in VirtuaNet, given that according to Aisha, the environment could boost the effects of status ailments? I could be trapped as an ice statue forever. Because I didn¡¯t think anyone else knew of that frozen city. I thought of bridging back to the real world. I thought of running away, but bridging without properly logging off meant risking a permanent ban from the game. And then I¡¯d have failed Aisha for sure. I could have logged out properly, but I didn¡¯t want to lose a day either. I prayed for an answer as I hopped over the railing and skulked to a different house, hoping he hadn¡¯t seen me but knowing he had. But at least I¡¯d have a minute to think. An ice ray pounded the walls for a few seconds. I¡¯d have to fight, regardless of my level. Besides, the game said that if I could pull off a decent strategy, I could defeat those seemingly stronger than me. I stepped outside, praying my plan would work. I bolted up, speeding toward the houses closest to the spires hanging from the permafrost. The old man had seen me. He prepared his ice ray again. But instead of hiding, I decided to risk getting hit. A risky gambit for a big reward. I raced at my top speed, and just before the ice ray was about to freeze me forever, I leaped toward the spire from one of the hanging buildings. I then stretched my arm as far as I could, thinking I wasn¡¯t going to make it, thinking I¡¯d fall to my death once I crashed into the ice abyss below, but I managed to grasp the spire with two fingers and quickly grabbed on with my other hand before I collapsed. A holographic message emerged. A shield materialized around me as I read it. New Active Searu: High Jump TP Cost: 20 A vital skill for those who are not yet powerful enough to engage in direct combat. At its highest levels, this skill will help you jump for the clouds. Skill Level: Novice Effect: 5% (7.5%) increase in jumping height. This effect is boosted by the Agility stat. The old man stomped the ice, probably enraged that a newcomer had bested him. I didn¡¯t know if he was a player or an AI enemy, but what mattered was that I was safe for the time being. And that you could learn searu by doing things in VirtuaNet instead of just leveling up. I¡¯d remember that.The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. I used the protruding roofs to climb all the way to the upper level, right next to the permafrost, which felt somewhat warmer. It¡¯d be at least a minute until the old man arrived. I headed inside through one of the building¡¯s open windows. And in that completely void room, right on the floor, almost forgotten by those who left, lay a ring of sorts. A simple, unadorned ring with no engravings or markings on it. Was it a trap? Possibly, but I had no other choice. I grabbed it and a system prompt emerged. You¡¯ve acquired an Eternal Ice Ring! Fashioned from eternal ice through a now-forgotten carving process, only two of these are currently in existence. It grants immunity against freezing and frostbite. +10 Intelligence +5 Def +50 Luck Great! With this I could defeat that old man. I decided to check out my stats, but I didn¡¯t know how, so I thought of the words ¡°Status Screen,¡± and it appeared in front of me. Name: Cael Cavanaugh Title: Newcomer. The title given to one who first ventures into VirtuaNet. Class: Artist Level: 1 Searu Type: N/A HP: 80/150 TP: 200/200 Str: 50 Def: 120 Agl: 260 Dex: 200 Luck: 500 I could more or less guess what each attribute represented, except for searu type, but I didn¡¯t have time to find out now. With one glance at my stats, I immediately knew I wouldn¡¯t be able to power through the game. If Luck was my strongest attribute, my main strategy for the game would have to be aiming for a one-hit knockout against my enemies¡¯ vital points. That or long-range critical hits, as my dexterity wasn¡¯t too shabby. Perhaps that was for the best. I didn¡¯t want to risk getting paralyzed in the real world because of a direct strike. I waved my hand and passed to the next stats page, which seemed to be the equipment page. Head: Weapon: Torso: Cotton Shirt +1 Def Arm: Smartwatch Legs: Cotton Slacks +1 Def Feet: Leather Shoes +1 Agl Acc. 1: Acc. 2: I placed the Eternal Ice Ring on my left hand¡¯s ring finger and immediately the equipment screen changed. The ring appeared in the first accessory slot, and my TP, Defense, and Luck stats increased to 300, 170, and 1,000 respectively. The Intelligence attribute seemed to control your TP. Warmth deluged me, and my frozen shoulder began to thaw. Second by second, the ice melted, and my shoulder returned to its original color. I almost began to boldly wave my arm in joy but realized that if the old man didn¡¯t know where I was, I¡¯d definitely let him know if I was careless. So I hid further inside the room I was in and used the arm whose shoulder had been frozen to arrive at the next status screen, the searu one. In addition to High Jump, which I had just learned, my character already knew two other ones. Active Searu: Poison TP Cost: 10 Type: N/A A beginner skill for those starting in the art of debilitating the enemy. At its highest levels, it will clout the enemy. Skill Level: Novice Effect: 5% (15%) chance of poisoning the target. This effect is boosted by the Luck stat. Active Searu: Scan TP Cost: 5 Type: N/A A beginner skill for those who wish to know their enemy before fighting it. At its highest levels, it will unveil the attribute mix and searu of the target. Skill Level: Novice Effect: Reveals the target¡¯s stats. My smartwatch provided the Scan searu, so I¡¯d have to decide whether I wanted that searu or something that boosted my other attributes. Perhaps with repeated usage, I could acquire Scan and wouldn¡¯t need my smartwatch to have it, but before I could look at the next Status Screen, I heard incoming footsteps. The old man had found me. I sneered. I knew exactly what to do. Not thinking, on the gust of pride that burst through my veins as I dashed down toward the old man approaching with his eyes set on decimating me, drowning down the gavels that pummeled my mind with doubt and guilt, I waved my arm and yelled ¡°Poison!¡± as loud as I could, fully aware that the frozen silence that engulfed us drowned out my voice and turned its bang into a mere whimper. The old man smirked and spit at the icy hallways beneath our feet. But a second after I activated the Poison searu, a prompt emerged. Field Effect Activated. Hidden Searu Unlocked! +10 Intelligence Bonus Toxic Mist TP Cost: 15 Type: N/A A hidden skill for those starting in the art of debilitating the enemy. At its highest levels, it will clout the enemy. Skill Level: Novice Effect: 5% (15%) chance of either poisoning or freezing the target. 2.5% (7.5%) chance of both status ailments. This effect is boosted by the Luck stat. Even better. Thank God! Even the old man seemed slightly surprised at the field effect. Had no one tried that before? Or were we in a space so devoid of life that he had already forgotten field effects were a thing? A blast of sadness twinged in me, but I had my own life to worry about. Couldn¡¯t dwell on how long this city had been forsaken. An ashen haze swamped the old man, clouding his vision for a moment. Ice began to frost his body, but before he could utter a sound or take a step forward, I jumped down a few levels to a corridor and activated High Jump. I leaped about a hundred feet into the air, and for a second there, I forgot about the adrenaline that must have been rushing through my veins, about the fact that I could have been frozen forever, and admired the landscape, the frozen city from above. All the buildings and passageways looked like a majestic display of snowflakes hanging from the permafrost, all united, all together. Whoever lived here must have valued community above all. I wasn¡¯t sure if I¡¯d have been comfortable with that way of life, but it was a picturesque scene of a winter wonderland that soothed me, if only for three seconds. On my way down, I aimed my fist right at the old man¡¯s neck, hoping for a luck-boosted one-hit KO for targeting my enemy¡¯s vital points, but when the effects of Toxic Mist waned, the ice that mantled the old man¡¯s body vanished. Fear rolled through me, and I opened my clenched fist. Was he immune to freezing as well? Because I had opened my fist, I only managed to press my palm against his neck instead of punching it. Critical hit! +1 Luck Bonus The prompt said that, but the old man didn¡¯t even flinch. I tried to activate Scan to see how much damage I had dealt, but for a second there, the old man¡¯s face changed. All the wrath turned to sadness. Resignation, more likely. That he¡¯d be forever trapped. That he¡¯d eternally remain alone. He tried to say something, but then his characteristic sneer returned. And before I could recover from High Jump¡¯s stagger time, the old man grabbed my neck. How could I have fallen for such a cheap trick? Was this the end? He prepared his ice ray, but before he clouted me, I knuckled his face with the hand that wore the Eternal Ice Ring. A pale cerulean light shone. ¡°It can¡¯t be,¡± the old man muttered. Shocked. ¡°You must be¡­¡± In an instant, I was gone. The light had transported me somewhere else. Somewhere safe, I hoped.