The fluorescent lights of the city hospital cast a sterile, pale glow over everything. Mark lay on the examination bed, staring at the ceiling as if it might hold the answers to questions no one dared ask. The air smelled faintly of antiseptic, clinical and sharp—the scent of life measured in tubes, charts, and warnings.
A doctor in a white coat approached, his expression a careful balance of professional detachment and reluctant pity.
"Mark," he began, voice steady yet gentle, "your condition—Cystic Fibrosis—is treatable. With proper medication and therapy, you could live a full life. The cost… it isn't insignificant, but it's manageable. Around thirty thousand dollars a year. Are you certain you want to refuse treatment?"
Mark's gaze didn't waver. He had spent months reconciling with the reality of his situation, the quiet certainty of the days slipping away. Every option, every potential outcome, had been weighed.
"Yes."
The doctor's eyes widened slightly—not with anger, but disbelief. "Son, you can't be serious!" He turned to Mark's parents, whose faces bore the silent weight of grief. "How can you—"
"Doctor," Mark interrupted, voice calm and firm, "this is my choice."
His parents, a hardworking couple scraping by on modest incomes, had already felt the squeeze of medical bills for years. Hospital visits, treatments, medications—it would all add up, eventually pushing them toward debt that could take decades to repay. Mark's refusal wasn't recklessness; it was protection, even in the face of death.
The doctor sighed, a rare mix of compassion and helplessness. Life and death were routine for him—but cases like this were different.
Mark's father muttered under his breath, shoulders heavy, "It's my fault… your grandfather, your uncle… they went the same way. Why does fate keep punishing our family?"
Mark met their eyes, calm, steady. "Dad. Mom. Listen. For the time I have left, I don't want to spend it trapped in a hospital bed, hooked to machines, tormenting myself and everyone I love."
His mother's hands trembled as she dabbed at her eyes. "Mark… is there anything you want to do? Anything at all?"
He paused. The truth was simple: he wanted control over what little remained of his life. His existence had always been measured in limits—breath counts, medication schedules, bills, warnings. But he could still choose how to spend his time.
He glanced out the window. Across the street, a massive advertisement caught the sunlight:
ASCENDANT: Realms Unbound.
The game's launch was tomorrow. Full-immersion VR. Cutting-edge neural interface. Hype, glitz, and the promise of escaping the constraints of reality. A world where limits didn't exist.
A quiet smile tugged at his lips. Perhaps this could be different—a chance to be someone else. To live a life not dictated by illness, debt, or dying lungs.
"Dad. Mom," he said softly, calm and composed, "I can't change the past. I can't extend time I don't have. But for my final chapter… I want to find the person I used to be."
His parents looked at each other, then at him. His father's voice was hushed but resolute. "Then we'll pay for it. Whatever it takes. This… this is your choice, son."
His mother nodded, eyes glistening. "We'll make it happen. If this is what will make you happy, we'll do it."
By mid-afternoon, the installation crew arrived, preparing the specialized neural-interface pod. The total cost was $2,888. For a family that had always struggled to make ends meet, it was a significant amount—but for them, this wasn't an expense. It was a gift. A chance to grant their son one final moment of freedom.
As he lay back in the pod, a strange calm washed over him. He had faced death for months; the fear had long since been tamed, tempered into patience and calculation. This was just another frontier. He was ready.
The world blinked out for a heartbeat. Then, a breathtaking palace floated above the clouds, ethereal mist swirling around his feet. The air shimmered with possibility.
SYSTEM ALERT: Welcome to Ascendant: Realms Unbound. Proceed with character creation?
"Yes."
A figure appeared—a perfect digital replica of Mark. Lean, upright, simple gray tunic. He didn't alter his appearance. Why pretend? This wasn't about impressing anyone. It was about control, choice, freedom.
SYSTEM ALERT: Avatar confirmed. Please assign a character name.
Kaelen.
Kaelen. A new name for a new beginning. A chance to exist in a world unshackled by sickness, debt, or dying lungs. He exhaled slowly, composed, letting the weight of reality settle behind him.
A vertical roulette wheel appeared, sections from F to SS glimmering in color. At the very edge, a tiny golden sliver gleamed—almost invisible.
SYSTEM ALERT: Proceed with Trait acquisition? (Traits are influenced by neural patterns, physiology, and psychology.)
Every player received one Trait. Grades ranged F through SS. Higher ranks were rarer. Kaelen studied the wheel. Something about the faint golden sliver at the edge didn't belong. Perhaps a glitch. Perhaps chance. Perhaps something else.
He focused. One thought: let's see what happens.
The needle spun. It landed on D-Rank. Predictable. He muttered a curse under his breath. The needle shifted again, creeping past C, B, A… S… SS…
Then, impossibly, it stopped at the golden sliver.
SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: Congratulations! You have acquired [Unique SSS-Rank Trait: Miracle Engine]. Luck +2!
Kaelen blinked, disbelief washing over him—but it was calm, measured disbelief. He had accepted his fate, but now… now there was a door. A choice. A second chance.
[Miracle Engine] (Unique, SSS-Rank)Description: Ignore all external requirements and restrictions. (Does not apply to quest objectives.)
It wasn't a combat boost. It was a key. A bypass. A doorway. Level locks, material limits, even paywalls—the world's rules could be ignored.
His pulse was steady. His breathing calm. He had accepted his mortality—but this… this was a choice within it. A fresh leaf. A new beginning.
SYSTEM ALERT:Ascendant: Realms Unbound will open at 10:00. Please stand by.
At 9:59, he hit "Enter World."
SYSTEM ALERT: You have entered [Humblebrook Village]!
[Humblebrook Village] (Safe Zone)Description: For the weaker races of man, the village walls are the only protection against the wilds.
Light cascaded across the village. Thousands of players poured in. Chaos erupted.
"Whoa, these graphics!"
"I can smell the ale on that NPC!"
"Back up, buddy! You're in my way!"
"D-Rank Trait. My life's over!"
Kaelen ignored the noise. Calm, collected, eyes scanning possibilities. He opened the in-game store.
Starter Pack — 12 Copper
A faint, composed smile tugged at his lips. Months of confinement, months of knowing death's proximity, had stripped him of panic. Now, he had choice. Now, he had possibility.
This is my new leaf. My second chance. My life… my rules.
And for the first time in years, he felt alive.