Inside the Simulation
And so, I began my path toward the Gregorian Empire.
I crossed valleys, mountains, farmlands, dense forests, and green meadows. All those landscapes were breathtaking.
Finally, I reached the coast. I inhaled deeply and began to run… all around me was water, massive waves nearly thirty meters tall, which I leapt over in a single bound.
I kept running—this was too much. Just how big and vast did this damn Intercontinental Sea have to be?
My frustration grew, because I ran and ran… and still couldn't see land on the horizon. It almost felt like I was crossing an ocean, not some damned sea.
According to Quincy and the map I had, this was the continental sea, since the continent of Aurotia was formed by several territories separated by a central sea.
And from what I could gather on that map, there were four straits dividing the land masses, each belonging to the four kingdoms, the great Empire, and that other small realm.
("Damn it, I should've taken the base route instead of crossing the sea… but technically these should count as continents… and these insane distances… Don't mess with me, Arcade, these are continents!")
I kept my course. Sure, it was incredible to run on water… but it already felt like an eternity, seeing nothing but waves and endless water. No matter the speed, no matter the rhythm of each stride.
("What's my maximum speed now? I feel like I could go much faster, but I like this pace… no reason to rush.")
I checked my course on Quincy's map: I was close to reaching land. But when I looked up at the sky, the sun was high overhead… and I thought:
("This is definitely a planet… how the hell did the programmers create an actual planet? Did they use quantum computers or what?")
And finally, after seconds that felt like minutes… or minutes that felt like seconds? Whatever it was, at last I spotted land in the distance. Still far, very far from my destination on Quincy's map.
Looking at the ridiculous scale of it all, I realized how wise it had been to add that navigation function to Quincy.
So I picked up the pace. And as I sped forward, I could make out towns and cities rising in the distance.
I wanted to approach them, but I wasn't sure: did the laws of physics even work in this world? Because at this speed, I could plow through innocent NPCs.
("No, better not find out… I'll just settle for watching from afar.")
Without realizing it, I ended up on a stone road. I immediately veered off—it was too dangerous for travelers or carts that might use it.
Even so, I noticed that every town and city was connected by these roads. And their architecture resembled the ancient Greco-Roman style.
And that's when it hit me…
That's when I realized the name Gregorian Empire was the perfect subtle fusion of Greece and Rome.
—"Damn programmers… geniuses. This is going to be interesting."
I kept running until I neared the point indicated on Quincy's map.
It was still confusing, since it was mapped out in lines I couldn't quite understand. It also didn't show the terrain relief. I figured that was because Quincy only had 60% of the data.
After studying the map and mulling over it, I remembered Artia had told me she'd been monitoring the new humanity for centuries. That meant she should have far clearer, more complete maps of the whole continent.
That's when Quincy spoke:
[Alright, master (—_—)]
—"Hey, what's with that face?"
[Nothing, master. Just keep going a bit further and you'll reach your destination (눈‸눈)]
—"Fine."
Exactly as Quincy said, I ran a little further at a steady pace. And there it was—a city rising near the coast of the great sea.
That was my destination… before me stood the port city of Cartag.
It made no sense to me that there were still ships on the water… considering floating vessels also existed.
So I asked Quincy:
—"Why are there still seafaring ships, Quincy? Do you have anything in your database to explain it?"
[Of course, master… and the answer is simpler than you think ( ᵔ ᵜ ᵔ )]
—"What is it?"
[Floating vessels are powered by magical energy… but for some reason, they don't work over the sea ¯\_( ͡~ . ͡°)_/¯]
—"In plainer words, please."
[Well, master, there's a natural law that prevents ships from flying over seas. ( ^ ‿ ^ )✌]
When I heard Quincy's explanation, I knew it was just an excuse from the administrators. Just so adventures and pirate-themed scenarios would exist.
Before approaching the city gates, I told Quincy to lower my stats. And finally I said:
—"Alright, time to head in."
I entered the city… and it was beautiful. The architecture was symmetrical and artistic.
Stone-paved streets, brick houses, market stalls… the atmosphere was incredible.
I walked almost blindly, still not used to the city's dynamics.
But then I saw something familiar from my world…
It was when I visited Italy with my mother at age six, after my summer with Grandpa Brandon.
What I had before me: "IT WAS A DAMN COLOSSEUM!... A ROMAN AMPHITHEATER!!"
A massive stadium-shaped building, built for pure spectacle.
The ancestor of every combat sport:
The magnificent, legendary, and bloody gladiatorial battles, or even naval battle reenactments.
Men against beasts and other brutal trials.
An invention of the Roman Empire, created to entertain its citizens.
(Don't kid me, this… this is why this game will decide the best gamer alive, damn it!)
I tried to contain my excitement, but I couldn't. So I rationalized it.
Of course, I figured the game must have changed a lot of things, but surely they'd kept the most epic ones.
I approached the Colosseum, where a man sat at a table, writing down names.
I walked up and asked:
—"Hey, what are you doing?"
The guy looked up, raised an eyebrow, and sized me up with annoyance.
Organizer: —"What do you want, slave?" he said, his voice rough as he toyed with the quill in his fingers.
—"Wow, tone it down, old man, I'm a mercenary."
I showed him my ID badge. The man clicked his tongue, sighed, and set the quill down.
Organizer: —"I'm registering participants for the tournament the day after tomorrow," he said, arms crossed with a weary air.
—"There's a tournament the day after tomorrow? (Oh damn, I almost forgot… still, a bit more info wouldn't hurt.)"
Organizer: —"That's right… every year this month, the governor of a city or the consul of an Imperial province hosts the national gladiatorial tournament somewhere in their region."
—"Can I sign up?"
The man looked me over again, tilted his head, and shook it lazily.
Organizer: —"Sorry, little mercenary. For these events, you need an invitation to take part."
At that point, I pulled out the red ticket I'd won back in the city of Bourn and showed it to him.
—"Is this an invitation?"
His eyes widened slightly, though he quickly frowned again.
Organizer: —"Yeah… how'd you get it?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.
—"Won it off some guy in an underground fight."
The man nodded slowly, picked up his quill, and returned to the parchment.
Organizer: —"Alright then, what name do I register you under?"
When I heard that, I thought of my student past and the nickname I'd used back at the Vaiolet tavern. Before that injury, before Japan… "The Abuser." That alias, everything it stood for… not just at my peak as an athlete, but my life itself.
After a few seconds in silence, I told the organizer:
—"Abuser."
The man looked up again.
Organizer: —"Sorry, what?"
—"The Abuser."
The man pressed his lips together, suppressing a bitter laugh.
Organizer: —"You sure? Not exactly a fitting name for a boy… But fine, you're a slave anyway, so it doesn't matter."
At that point I pulled the mask—or rather, the helmet—Artia had made me last night from my bag.
—"Relax, I'll be wearing this mask… you'll know it's me by that."
The man wrote the name with little enthusiasm, shrugging.
Organizer: —"Alright then… 'The Abuser' will compete in the preliminary rounds."
—"And when are those?"
Organizer: —"In three hours, and tomorrow," he said, eyes back on his parchment.
—"Good, I'll see you later, or tomorrow, depends… oh, one more thing: what's your name?"
The man barely raised his head, bored expression intact.
Galio: —"My name is Galio."
—"Alright, see you then, Galio."
Galio: —"Goodbye, little mercenary…" he muttered, scrawling something on the register, with the faintest smile flickering for a second—("That kid looks like Gat… no, just my imagination. He's a slave… just another red-ticket fool marching to his death.")