The air in Sector 4's "Lower-Tier" was a thick, recycled soup of ozone, stale copper, and the lingering scent of industrial coolant. In the year 2300, breathing was no longer a human right; it was a subscription service. High above, behind layers of shimmering atmospheric shields, the "Aurum-Class" citizens breathed air filtered through mountain-range sized purifiers that tasted of pine and sea salt. Down here, in the shadows of the hyper-city's support pillars, the filtration units were decades past their expiration date, rattling with a mechanical cough that mirrored the sickly inhabitants of the slums.
Jin sat on the edge of a creaky polymer bunk, his boots resting on a floor stained with a century of grime and hydraulic fluid. The room was no larger than a storage closet—a "Nano-Unit" designed for one, currently housing two. His eyes were fixed on the flickering holographic display projected from his wrist-link, the blue light casting long, tired shadows against the metallic walls.
[Current Balance: 42 Credits]
The numbers were a death sentence in neon blue. A single "Type-C Nutrient Pack"—barely enough to keep his sister Mei's fragile metabolism stable—cost 10 Credits. The rental fee for his second-hand "Sync-Pod" was 150 Credits, due in seventy-two hours. If the payment failed, the automated locks on their unit would engage, and they would be purged into the "Unclaimed Zones"—the lawless ruins outside the city walls where security drones hunted anything that moved without a corporate ID.
"Brother... you're thinking too loud again," a soft, melodic voice drifted from the corner of the room.
Mei sat in a modified wheelchair, her frame so slight she seemed almost swallowed by the oversized neural-interface headset she wore. Her legs were motionless, draped in a thin, thermal blanket. She suffered from Neural Dissociation Syndrome, a common ailment in the 24th century for children born in the lower tiers. Her soul was "heavy"—it had a natural affinity for the higher dimensions, making her physical body feel like a leaden cage she couldn't control.
"I'm just calculating the exchange rates, Mei," Jin lied, forcing a smile that didn't reach his eyes. His voice was raspy from the dry, filtered air.
"You're lying," she countered, her fingers dancing across a transparent, holographic keyboard with a speed no normal human could match. "Your heart rate spiked by 15% when you looked at the bank balance. Don't worry about the rent. I've intercepted a few data-scraps from the Thorne Corporation's garbage servers. I can flip the info on the dark-web for a few hundred credits."
"No," Jin said firmly, his tone sharpening. "Stay out of the corporate grids, Mei. If a Trace-Hunter catches your signal, I won't be able to protect you from the digital lobotomy teams. I'll handle the credits. I'm heading into the higher dimension today for a long session. The resource nodes should have reset by now."
Jin stood up, and as he did, his blood gave a strange, rhythmic thrum. It wasn't a pulse; it was a vibration that started at the base of his skull and radiated down to his fingertips, making his skin itch with a phantom energy. It had been happening more frequently since his eighteenth birthday—the legal age to enter Aether-Sync. He didn't know it yet, but his DNA was humming a song of a forgotten era, a primordial code waiting for a key.
He stepped toward the Sync-Pod. It was a rusted, coffin-like machine salvaged from a corporate scrap heap three years ago. While the elites used "Sovereign-Class" pods that felt like silk and offered 99.9% synchronization, this machine was a jagged mess of exposed wires and leaking coolant.
"See you on the other side," Jin whispered, his hand lingering on the pod's cold metal casing.
"Good luck, Big Brother. Find something pretty to sell," Mei smiled, her eyes reflecting the glowing code of her monitors.
Jin climbed in. The cold, viscous conductive gel flooded the chamber, smelling of harsh chemicals and artificial mint. It pressed against his skin, a claustrophobic weight that forced the air from his lungs. Then, the neural-link needles engaged. They slid into the base of his spine and his temples with a sharp, electric hiss that made his vision white out for a second.
[Neural Link: Established] [Hardware Health: 34% (Warning: Cooling Fan Failure Imminent)] [Synchronizing Soul Frequency... 12%... 45%... 89%...] [Warning: Sync-Rate reaching 92%... This exceeds safety limits for Class-D Hardware...] [Welcome to Aether-Sync, Interloper Jin.]
The sensation of his physical body vanished instantly. The smell of copper and the sound of the rattling fan were replaced by a sudden, jarring silence.
Jin opened his eyes.
He was standing in the Jade-Leaf Forest, the starting zone for new players in the Higher Dimension. It was a world of impossible, heart-aching vibrancy. The sky above wasn't blue, but a swirling gradient of violet and gold, lit by three distant suns that never seemed to set. The trees here didn't just grow; they breathed. Every leaf pulsed with a soft, bioluminescent rhythm, exhaling a mist that felt like pure, liquid energy against his skin.
To the millions of players who logged in every day from their pods across the globe, this was a game—a place to level up, gain status, and escape their miserable lives in 2300. But to the "Interlopers," it was a physical reality. The wind felt real. The heat was real. And the death? That was real enough to shatter a mind through neural backlash.
Jin looked down at his hands. They were calloused, but they glowed with a faint, healthy tan—a far cry from his pale, sickly real-world skin that rarely saw actual sunlight. He checked his basic inventory.
[Starter Item: Rusty Iron Knife (Common)] Attack: 2-3 Durability: 10/10
It was a pathetic weapon, barely enough to kill a Level 1 Slime without breaking. But as Jin gripped the hilt, something shifted. The "thrum" in his blood reached a crescendo, vibrating in perfect harmony with the air around him. His vision blurred, and the world transformed.
The forest didn't look like a forest anymore. It looked like a sea of glowing, interconnected strings. He saw the "Source Script" of the world.
Floating in the air, swirling around every tree, rock, and blade of grass, were golden characters—Runes. They were ancient, complex symbols that seemed to dictate the laws of physics in this dimension. To other players, a tree was just an object. To Jin, it was a complex formula of [Growth], [Sturdiness], and [Photosynthesis] runes.
A sharp, crimson window snapped open in his mind. This wasn't the blue, user-friendly UI of the Game System. This was something internal, etched into his very soul.
[Unique Talent Detected: Runic Eyes (Level 1)] Description: The user can perceive the fundamental runes that compose the Higher Dimension. You do not see the 'Object'; you see the 'Design'.
[Primordial Bloodline (Dormant) Status: 0.01% Awakening] Requirement for further awakening: Consume the essence of 100 Grade-1 Runes.
Jin's breath caught in his throat. He looked at his Rusty Knife again. It was no longer just a piece of iron. It was a messy, flickering scribble of "Density" and "Sharpness" runes, both of which were fading and cracked—hence the "Rusty" status.
Instinctually, Jin knelt and looked at a common "Stone-Weed" growing at his feet. Most players trampled these weeds without a thought; they had no sell value and provided zero experience points.
Through his Runic Eyes, Jin saw a single, vibrating symbol inside the weed: [Weight].
He reached out. His fingers didn't touch the physical plant; they brushed against the golden symbol. To his shock, he felt a "tweak" in his soul, and the symbol peeled away from the plant like a sticker. The Stone-Weed instantly turned into grey ash and blew away in the wind, its fundamental logic stripped bare.
[Essence Extracted: Minor Rune of Weight (F-Rank)]
Jin trembled with a mixture of fear and excitement. He looked at his knife. With a steady hand, he pressed the glowing symbol of [Weight] into the hilt of the blade.
The metal groaned. The rust didn't disappear, but it darkened, turning a heavy, obsidian black. The air around the blade seemed to warp slightly, as if the gravity around the metal had suddenly doubled.
[Warning: Unconventional Modification Attempted.] [Processing... System bypass detected...] [Success! Your 'Rusty Iron Knife' has evolved into 'Weighted Runic Dagger'!] [Quality: Uncommon (Growth Potential)] [Attack Power: 15-22 (Previously 2-3)] [Special Effect: Crushing Blow - 5% chance to ignore 50% of the target's physical defense.]
Jin stared at the stats in disbelief. A Level 1 player with a weapon that had 22 attack power and armor-pierce? This was a weapon that usually required a Level 10 character and at least 500 Credits to buy from a high-end Guild merchant. He had created it in thirty seconds using a piece of trash.
"If I can do this with a weed..." Jin looked deeper into the forest, where the light-trees shimmered with even more complex and powerful symbols. "...I can save her. I can finally buy her a real life."
But his moment of triumph was interrupted. From the thicket to his left, a low, guttural growl echoed. The tall, glowing grass parted to reveal a Razor-Tusk Boar (Level 3). Its eyes were blood-red, and its tusks were etched with the faint, natural runes of [Haste].
Normally, a Level 1 player would run for their life. But Jin felt his blood vibrate again, urging him forward. His vision locked onto the boar's throat—specifically, a flickering red rune of [Vitality] that pulsed with every heartbeat.
"So that's your source code," Jin whispered, his grip tightening on the heavy, dark dagger. The hunt had begun.