Game: "Divine Realm"
Developed by Huaxia Studios, this game immerses players in an era of cold steel, woven with the threads of arcane arts. A decade in the making and funded by untold resources, its creation touched military, political, and commercial interests—rumored even to have state backing, though such whispers remain unproven. In 2020, Divine Realm exploded onto the scene, swiftly dominating the gaming market. Over 95% of players migrated into its world. After a brief, turbulent reshuffling of the industry, fortunes were made and lost overnight. Here, survival demanded not just skill—but luck.
Evening fell over the slums of L City. A group of thugs circled a lean, wiry teenager. Their smirking faces turned his stomach. Such scenes were common here. Neighbors kept their distance, watching with detached curiosity—the true darkness of the world lay not in the cruelty of the wicked, but in the indifference of the good. Time never washed away the worst in human nature.
The boy wore a grin—cheeky and contemptuous.
The lead thug, built like a bear, swaggered forward, annoyed. "Listen, kid. We're just trying to get by. Life's tough. Got a family to feed. Cut the crap and hand over your cash."
The boy frowned. Social welfare kept anyone from starving, but state aid only covered the bare essentials. If you wanted anything more—well, skipping meals for a month might buy you one day of luxury...
"Boss, came out in a hurry. Didn't bring much." As he spoke, he turned out the pockets of his plain, worn-out clothes: tissues, tissues, and more tissues...
The thug scowled.
"You messin' with me? This wouldn't buy cheap milk for my kid." His voice tightened with anger.
"Really, boss, I'm broke. Search me if you want. You know how it is in the slums—who carries money?" The boy feigned fear, thinking to himself, Even if I had some, I wouldn't be dumb enough to bring it out here.
The thug snatched the pitiful few World Coins and shook his head. "Even robbing people doesn't pay these days."
A wave of melancholy hit him. He'd joined the underworld dreaming of an easy life, only to start as a grunt—shouted at, chased by cops, treated as cannon fodder. Now, finally a "boss," he'd been dumped in this godforsaken slum: short on men, drowning in chaos. Where the hell are the cops when you need 'em?
He turned to leave with his crew, but the skinny kid spoke up: "Hey boss, you didn't give me my change."
What? Change? Since when do you get change from a robbery? The thug was stunned. Had the world moved on without him? He scratched his head, trying to remember the last time he'd been online… Damn, he couldn't. Maybe he really was obsolete.
"Boss, don't take it all. At least leave me something for dinner. I still gotta eat tonight." An imaginary crow cawed overhead. The onlookers perked up—they'd never seen haggling during a mugging.
Without looking back, the thug walked away, resolved… and maybe a little tearful. This line of work's gone to hell.
One of his lackeys paused beside the boy. "You playing us, kid?" The boy glanced back, then gave a firm, deliberate nod. They exchanged a faint smile.
After the thugs left, the disappointed crowd dispersed. "They didn't even throw a punch… What a letdown."
The boy slipped away like a shadow, as if he'd never been there.
Deep in the slums stood a dilapidated courtyard—weeds climbing crumbling walls, a rusted gate hanging crooked. But inside was another world: tidy paths, blooming flowers, lush greenery sheltering a small yet elegantly crafted house. There, amidst the plants, the boy lounged in an ancient bamboo rocking chair, perfectly at ease.
Suddenly remembering, he pulled a leather wallet from his pocket. "Whoa, genuine calfskin. This is worth something." Too bad it held only a few wrinkled World Coins. He shook his head at its emptiness. "Even thieves are struggling now." He tossed it into a nearby cardboard box already overflowing with miscellaneous loot.
Back on the slum's edge, the thug halted, patting himself down frantically. Then he roared at the sky: "WHO STOLE MY WALLET!" It wasn't the money—it was the wallet itself, worth far more.
Dusk deepened. The boy went inside. The house was small but finely arranged: carved window frames, bamboo furniture, wooden floors, a marble tea table set with an antique purple-clay tea set… Apart from a sleek gaming pod in one corner and a computer nearby, there wasn't a single electronic appliance in sight.
He climbed into the pod.
Iris scan—confirmed.
Fingerprint scan—confirmed.
DNA scan—confirmed.
Player: Kevin — identity verified. Access granted.
A synthetic voice announced his entry.
He was back. Kevin glanced around. Several high-level players still lingered nearby, each bearing the emblem of the "Anti-Beast Coalition"—a temporary human faction formed solely to hunt him. He smiled bitterly. Once he hit level 10, he'd be instantly killed and respawn, not in beastman territory, but in a human starter village. How ironic. He remembered leading an army of a hundred thousand beastmen, tearing through human defenses, conquering cities… Those were glorious days.
The [Delete Character] interface flashed before him. He canceled it and sprinted to the nearest village, finding the Elder.
"Elder, I wish to donate all my wealth to this village." The kindly old man beamed, wrinkles folding into smiles. Kevin handed over everything—10,000 gold coins.
System Alert: In recognition of your outstanding contribution to Riverside Village, you have been awarded the title 'Model Citizen.'
Additional Notice: Title revoked—beastmen players are ineligible.
Even trying to do good backfires. That settled it. Kevin was ready to start over.
Delete character and restart—Confirm.
He reappeared in the central hub, gazing up at the floating main hall with a thrill of excitement… Memories of his first days in the game flooded back.
But checking his stats quickly soured the mood:
Player Name: Troublemaker
Race: Beastman
Class: None
Title: None
Reputation: –999,598
Guild: None
Level: 9
Deaths: 99
Strength: 17
Agility: 18
Stamina: 15
Intelligence: 10
Remaining Points: 46
Luck: ??
Charisma: ??
Insight: ??
HP: 165
MP: 96
Physical Attack: 138
Magic Attack: 95
Defense: 78
Speed: 10.5
Skills: None
Equipment: None
Looking at this blank slate, he knew there was no point continuing. He'd held on long enough. A year of solitude, fighting the entire human player base alone. From the very beginning, the game had forced him into the beastman race, assigning him the main quest: Revive the Beastman Clans. That made him the world's enemy. Beastmen and celestials were "secondary" races, with strict creation requirements that few players met. (Beastmen needed starting Strength >8, Agility >6, Stamina >7, Intelligence <4. Kevin only qualified because he'd chosen random stat allocation. Celestials required Strength <4, Agility >6, Stamina >7, Intelligence >8, plus a high appearance rating—not quite godlike beauty, but definitely stand-out looks.)
Born in beastman lands, he rarely saw other players. And when he did, the system would invariably assign quests like: Eliminate Player [Name]. Fine—if the world was his enemy, so be it. With fewer beastmen players, resources were plentiful. Kevin leveled quickly, but the loneliness weighed on him. Thankfully, he was used to being alone.
Through sheer effort, he united a beastman kingdom, waged wars, and eventually pushed into the contested borderlands, raiding human villages and leading siege battles. Soon, every human player knew his name and hunted him relentlessly. Then came the ultimate betrayal: when humans founded a new kingdom, the system gave him a quest to Crush the Human Nation, Halt Their Expansion. Top human players, following their own Capture the Beast King quest, slaughtered him without mercy. Only later did he learn it was all a trap—the kingdom was bait to eliminate him.
Kevin finally understood: he'd been a pawn all along, just entertainment for the game. He wasn't playing the game—the game was playing him.
Time to begin again. No more pawn. Kevin would seize control of his own fate.
Delete character—Confirm.
Simultaneously, the game's core AI, Nuwa, received a message:
Seed #274 has abandoned the game. Character deleted.
Couldn't endure it anymore? Perhaps it's for the best. Let him find release.
Nuwa murmured to herself in her virtual garden. I'll look out for him a little more.
Please name your character.
Nightshade
Scanning… Name available.
Allocate starting points: Random or Scan?
Screw random, Kevin thought. Scan.
Scanning complete.
Select class: Rogue.
Why no race selection? Oh—conditions not met.
Appearance adjustment: Unchanged.
Pain sensitivity: 100% (A bit masochistic, perhaps.)
Character finalized. Generating…
Watching the virtual avatar slowly materialize, Kevin felt a surge of excitement. He knew: this new skin would be the one to turn the world upside down.
Player Name: Nightshade
Race: Human
Class: Rogue
Title: None
Guild: None
Level: 0
Deaths: 0
Strength: 8
Agility: 7
Stamina: 7
Intelligence: 9
Remaining Points: 0
Luck: ??
Charisma: ??
Insight: ??
HP: 80
MP: 86
Physical Attack: 62
Magic Attack: 68
Defense: 35
Speed: 4.2
Equipment: None
Huh. Slightly better stats this time. Kevin scratched his head, idly wondering if he'd scratch himself bald someday. Only time would tell.
He logged out, in no rush to dive back in. He believed every setback hid an opportunity.
With no desire to wander, he returned to his simple, cozy home and entered the game once more.
A stretching sensation—and he appeared in a starter village.
"Welcome, Nightshade. This is the human starter village: Grimwater."
The system announcement made him chuckle dryly. Just my luck.
Grimwater was infamous—top of the "Worst Human Starter Villages" list. Its notoriety didn't come from stingy NPCs or poor rewards, but from its brutal monster distribution. After Level 1–2 creatures like rabbits and chickens, you jumped straight to Level 5–6 wild dogs and bulls. There was no gradual progression. To level up, you either fought monsters far above your rank (high risk, high reward) or painfully grinded weak mobs for pitiful experience—a terrible waste of time in the early game rush. Quests offered experience but were notoriously difficult and dangerous. High risk, high reward indeed.
This environment bred three types of players: the skilled who fought above their weight, the insanely patient grinders, and those who simply deleted their characters in defeat. Kevin couldn't delete again—the system allowed only one reset per year. Those who survived Grimwater often became legends. Those who didn't… well, they "flew" out in the digital sense. Harsh conditions forged talent. Word had it one player once spent three in-game months here—a kind of talent in itself.
The game had been live for over a year. True newcomers were rare; most "new" players were veterans like Kevin, starting over. After standing in the village square a while, he saw no one else. He took in the surroundings: cobblestone paths still damp, feeling like a bumpy foot massage underfoot; timber-and-thatch houses; the scent of wet earth and woodsmoke. A tailor's shop marked by scissors, an apothecary with an alchemy furnace, the rhythmic clanging of a blacksmith's hammer—this was Grimwater. A winding path led out of town, and a small stream circled the village. It was peaceful, beautiful even. Compared to the grim, foul beastman settlements, Kevin found himself loving this place. Sometimes you only appreciate what you have after losing something else.
He wouldn't be a top player this time—and that was fine. He'd enjoy the game for what it was. Enjoyment was an attitude toward life.
A cold breeze cut through. Kevin shivered, suddenly remembering the system's default setting. He looked down. Yep—only underwear. At least no one was around to see. A tiny, illicit thrill. In the real world, this would be a crime. Here, it was just another quirk of the game. If games banned PvP or killing monsters, what would be the point?
He opened his inventory with a thought. The starter set waited: Novice Tunic (+3 Defense), Novice Pants (+3 Defense), Novice Cudgel (+3 Attack), Novice Shoes (+0.01 Speed). With them equipped: Defense 41, Attack 71, Speed 10.51. Not bad at all.
The respawn point was at the center of the village square; the departure portal sat in a corner. In major cities, it was the opposite—portals central, respawn points tucked away. The design made sense: starter villages were one-way exits with high player mortality, while cities needed efficient player flow.
Kevin spotted the Village Elder in a corner and approached. Before he could speak, the old man greeted him: "Welcome, adventurer Nightshade. It has been too long since fresh blood came to Grimwater. This place needs new life. May you help it thrive again." Kevin felt a flicker of pride—NPCs didn't usually initiate conversation. Maybe his Charisma was decent. "Young one, speak with the elders here. They are wise in the ways of life and may offer guidance."
"I will. Thank you."
Kevin strolled around the village. At the blacksmith's, he watched the smith toss ore into the furnace. Under the flames, the rock glowed red, softened, merged. Different ores melted together, creating new alloys with new properties—the power of fusion, of elements embracing change. The smith poured the molten blend into molds. Once cooled, the rough blanks were reheated, refined. When a glowing blank emerged, Kevin saw droplets of the smith's sweat sizzle away in steamy bursts. The clang of the hammer played against the hiss of quenching—a duet of fire and ice. Again and again, until a weapon was born. Kevin watched, mesmerized, seeing only the dance of hammer, flame, and frost…
Ding! Player Nightshade has independently comprehended the Blacksmithing skill. System reward: skill rank upgraded to Intermediate. Experience +1000. Gold +100.
Congratulations! Nightshade has leveled up!
Congratulations! Nightshade has leveled up!
The alerts snapped him from his trance. Is my Insight that high? Maybe I'll get out of this village fast after all.
Blacksmithing (Intermediate): Can fuse low- and mid-grade ores. 5% chance to craft Blue equipment. 0.5% chance to craft Green equipment. As for Gold or Dark Gold gear… don't hold your breath. Balance must be kept.
A sudden urge to mine hit him. He stepped into the smithy. The blacksmith, Forger Markus, spoke first: "Young man, you have a rare look about you—the bones of a master smith. Tell you what: I'll teach you a few tricks for free. How about calling me master?"
This kind of luck? Kevin's mind raced. Is my Charisma off the charts?
He didn't hesitate.
System: Forger Markus wishes to take you as an apprentice. Accept?
Yes.
Congratulations! You have gained the title: Blacksmith (Intermediate).
Putting on his most ingratiating smile, Kevin drawled, "Masteeeeer—" in a tone so sweet it could rot teeth.
"Save the act. No freebies."
Kevin's face went pale, then red, then purple.
"Ahem, Master, do I look like that kind of person?"
Markus stroked his chin, shook his head, nodded, paced three circles left, three right, then declared solemnly: "Yes."
"Fine, old man. No more games. What do I get for being your apprentice?"
"Nothing much. Just the title. Make me happy, and I might pass down a family heirloom… like a chamber pot. Or a rice bowl."
Crows cawed in Kevin's imagination. He was speechless.
"Master, I can't just know blacksmithing, right? I can't buy all my ore—high-grade stuff costs a fortune. What do you suggest?"
System: Forger Markus offers to teach you Mining and Smelting at no cost. Accept?
Free? Absolutely. Accept.
Congratulations! You have learned Mining (Beginner) and Smelting (Beginner).
Kevin grinned ear to ear. He didn't know that even paid training wouldn't have cost much.
"Apprentice, they say 'a sharp axe chops the most wood.' Good tools make the work. Top players hit walls—their own strength plateaus, so they rely on gear. The system sells mostly common trash. Drops are rare and risky. That's where crafters come in. Work hard—blacksmithing has a bright future." He coughed. "Anyway, I have picks and furnaces here. Want some?"
"Free?"
"No."
"Master, that was blunt."
"Good lad, would I cheat you? If it were ordinary stuff, you could pick freely. But this is family heritage! A chamber pot, a cracked bowl… priceless treasures!"
"Show me. Words are cheap."
"Follow me."
Markus led Kevin deep into the smithy's back rooms, through twists and turns, until they reached a storeroom.
Kevin's eyes widened. Mid- and high-grade ores lay in heaps. Neat rows of lacquered wooden boxes lined the shelves. These must be valuable. What's inside?
"The common stuff is out here. Come further." Kevin thought, I could just steal…
"Don't even think it, kid. You can't beat NPCs like me."
Kevin swallowed his thoughts. Markus walked to a corner, twisted a particular box, and a shelf swung aside with a creak, revealing a narrow door. He slipped through; Kevin followed.
The hidden room was small, shelves climbing to the ceiling, packed with ornate metal cases. In one corner lay scattered, shimmering ores. Kevin never expected a starter village blacksmith to hoard such treasure. A hidden expert? This could be huge. Drool nearly escaped his mouth.
Markus stood in the center, deep in thought, muttering, "Where did I put it? Saw it decades ago…"
He paced, then finally dug through a cluttered corner and found…