1997
California, Los Angeles.
Fenric opened his eyes and found himself in a small, quiet room. He was leaning back on a sofa.
Slowly rising, he crossed the room and stood before the mirror on the wall.
Staring back at him was the reflection of a young man with sharp features—three parts similar to Fenric himself.
It was nothing but a temporary identity assigned by the system.
Status isn't important. The mission is what matters.
Ding—!
Almost on cue, the system prompt appeared in his mind:
[Notice: Main mission released!]
[This mission is divided into two objectives.]
[Task 1: Protect John Connor, the future leader of the Resistance Army.]
[Reward: Guaranteed A-rank evaluation.]
[Task 2: Hunt the Terminator units.]
[Please select your mission objective.]
Fenric's lips curved faintly. "I choose Mission 2."
[Confirmed!]
[Main mission: Hunt the Terminator units.]
[Requirement: Destroy at least two Terminator robots.]
[Time limit: 30 days.]
[Hint: The more units eliminated, the higher your evaluation.]
Fenric chuckled under his breath.
At once, he began replaying the plot of Terminator 2: Judgment Day in his mind.
The story was simple enough.
At the turn of the 21st century, humanity's great creation—the global computer system "Skynet"—went out of control.
Machines gained self-awareness and declared humanity their enemy.
Nuclear fire rained across the globe, wiping out billions. The world was plunged into doomsday.
The survivors were relentlessly hunted by Terminator robots.
But among them rose a leader—John Connor.
Under his command, mankind rallied with what little weapons and resources they had, fighting back against the overwhelming machine armies and gradually turning the tide.
Desperate, Skynet sent a killer robot from 2029 back to 1997, to assassinate John Connor while he was still a boy.
To counter this, John dispatched a protector robot to defend his younger self.
Thus began the clash.
That was the original story.
But now, the presence of Samsara player participants twisted the flow of events.
For every additional Samsara who entered, two more Terminators would appear to hunt John Connor.
No matter how much changes, John Connor remains the key.
With that thought, Fenric left the room.
The mission had begun.
It wouldn't be long before the T-1000 arrived for John Connor.
But Fenric had his own plan—he wanted to capture a T-1000 alive. If he controlled John Connor, then everything else would fall into place.
Outside, the California sun blazed warmly across the streets.
Fenric walked casually, piecing together the sequence of events.
In the original story, John was just a rebellious teenager—mother absent, picking up bad habits, drifting into trouble. Not yet a criminal, but close.
He wouldn't be hard to find.
Suddenly, Fenric stopped.
On an open-air basketball court, several gangsters loitered—hairstyles slicked back in the popular "airplane head" fashion, smoking joints and swaggering about.
Fenric strode straight toward them.
One lanky white thug sneered, "Beat it, kid. This is our turf. You're not welcome here."
Fenric calmly raised his fist. "You'll welcome me soon enough."
Moments later—
Fenric wiped his bloodied knuckles with a discarded shirt. The blood wasn't his, of course.
On the ground, the thugs groaned, clutching broken noses and swollen jaws, too afraid to meet his eyes.
Fenric had shown mercy. If he hadn't, these weaklings would already be corpses.
He smiled faintly. "Now, I have a few questions. Would that be… inconvenient?"
"Inconvenient? N-no! Ask anything, sir!" One pale-faced thug scrambled to please him. "If we know, we'll tell you!"
"You should've cooperated earlier. Would've saved yourselves a beating."
Fenric's tone was light, almost casual. "John Connor. You've heard that name, haven't you?"
The thugs exchanged nervous glances. Finally, one blurted, "Sir, you mean that kid who's always stealing stuff?"
"Yes." Fenric chuckled. "Where is he?"
"He… he lives near the Sixth Street Bridge. 116, I think. But he's never home at this hour. Best bet is the arcade—he spends all his time there."
"Good. Take me to the arcade."
None dared refuse. One thug staggered up and led the way.
In a Video Game Hall.
A roadside arcade, buzzing with life.
In the late '90s, before home computers spread everywhere, arcades ruled the youth.
Led by the thug, Fenric entered and quickly spotted his target—John Connor.
But his eyes also caught something unusual.
Several adults were watching John as well.
Nothing strange about adults in an arcade, but these men were asian. In Los Angeles, that was far from ordinary. Asians usually stick to their own neighborhoods. Seeing so many gathered here was suspicious.
They noticed Fenric too.
Wariness flickered in their eyes.
The leader stepped forward and asked, "Signal?"
Fenric didn't bother with codes. He simply declared:
"I am Shura."
The effect was immediate—shock rippled through the group.
"Master Shura, welcome!" the leader said respectfully, ambition flashing in his gaze. "What brings you here?"
"Relax," Fenric replied lightly. "I'm here for one thing—to capture a T-1000 Terminator. Once I do, I'll leave. I won't interfere with your plans."