The transition didn't feel like a game.
To the millions of players logging in for the first time, the arrival in the Village of Beginnings was a spectacle of high-fantasy wonder. White stone plazas, soaring NPC pegasus riders, and the crisp, clean air of a world untainted by industrial smog.
But to Andrew—now known only as Paladin—it felt like stepping back into a beautiful lie.
He ignored the pop-up notifications welcoming him to Mythos Online. He ignored the crowds of teenagers screaming with joy as they tested their basic magic sparks. He moved with a predatory grace that didn't belong in a Level 1 zone.
Thirty minutes, he thought, checking the internal clock. In thirty minutes, the first 'Hero' will clear the East Field, and the tutorial frenzy will begin. I need to be gone before then.
He navigated the winding back alleys of the slum district. This area was designed to be "flavor text"—background scenery for players to ignore on their way to the glorious Cathedral.
He found the shop he was looking for: Horgun's Scrapyard.
An old, one-armed dwarf NPC was tossing rusted iron shards into a smelting bin. The heat in the small yard was stifling.
"Scram, newbie," Horgun grunted without looking up. "I don't sell swords. I melt 'em."
"I'm not looking for a new blade," Andrew said, his eyes scanning the mountain of refuse in the corner. "I'm looking for the one that refused to melt."
Horgun paused, his one eye narrowing. He pointed a calloused finger at a pile of soot-covered slag. "You mean that piece of cursed iron? It's been clogging up my furnace for three days. Won't melt, won't sharpen. It's dead weight."
Andrew walked over. Buried under a pile of broken shields was a hilt. It was made of a dull, grey metal, wrapped in rotted leather. There was no blade—only a jagged, six-inch stump of rusted iron where the steel should have been.
He reached out.
The moment his fingers brushed the leather, his [King's Hindsight] talent flared. A vision flashed before his eyes: a massive dragon falling from a blackened sky, pierced by a blade of pure light.
[System: You have acquired 'Soot-Stained Rubbish' (Rank: Trash)]
Type: Broken Hilt
Damage: 1 - 2
Durability: Infinite (Indestructible)
Description: A useless piece of junk found in a scrap heap. Even a blacksmith wouldn't want this.
Useless, huh? Andrew gripped it tight. He could feel it—a faint, rhythmic thrumming against his palm. It wasn't dead; it was starving.
"How much?" Andrew asked.
"Give me 5 copper just to haul the bad luck away," Horgun spat.
Andrew handed over his starting currency, leaving his pockets empty. He didn't care. He turned toward the West Gate—the "Gray Woods." It was a high-difficulty zone for Level 1s, filled with aggressive Dire Wolves instead of the cute slimes found at the East Gate.
The First Kill
The Gray Woods were dim, the trees thick with unnatural moss. Most players avoided this place because the "Return on Investment" was too low—the wolves were too fast, and the experience gain was the same as the slimes.
Snap.
A Dire Wolf, twice the size of a stray dog, emerged from the shadows. Its eyes glowed with a hungry yellow light. It growled, baring fangs that could snap a Level 1's neck in a single bite.
Andrew didn't adopt a standard gaming stance. He lowered his center of gravity, the broken hilt held loosely at his side.
The wolf lunged—a blur of grey fur and teeth.
In his past life, Andrew would have panicked. Now, he saw the trajectory before the beast even left the ground. He stepped an inch to the left. The wolf sailed past, its fur brushing his tunic.
Clang!
Andrew brought the rusted hilt down on the wolf's skull. It wasn't a clean cut—it was a brutal, blunt-force strike.
[-15 HP (Critical Hit!)]
The wolf whimpered, scrambling to find its footing, but Andrew was already there. He didn't use a skill. He used physics. He drove the jagged stump of the blade into the wolf's eye socket.
[You have defeated 'Dire Wolf' (Level 3)!]
[Experience Gained: 50]
A notification pinged in the corner of his vision.
[Hidden Quest: The Blood of the First Guardian]
Progress: 1 / 1,000 Souls.
Note: The hunger of the blade stirs...
As the wolf's body dissolved into data particles, a tiny wisp of red light didn't vanish. Instead, it was sucked into the rusted hilt. The soot on the metal flaked off, revealing a single, glowing rune that looked like an eye.
Andrew felt a sudden jolt in his chest. A warm sensation spread from his hand, up his arm, and into his heart.
[Warning: Synchronicity Occurring.]
[1 Reality Point Earned.]
Andrew stopped. He pulled his hand back and looked at his arm in the "real" world—inside the capsule. He could feel his actual muscles twitching, hardening.
It's starting already, he realized, a fierce joy rising in his chest. The 'Bleed' is happening. If I keep this up, I won't just be strong in the game. I'll be able to protect Min-ho from a falling skyscraper if I have to.
He looked deeper into the dark woods. Hundreds of yellow eyes began to blink open in the darkness.
"Come on then," Andrew whispered, the broken hilt beginning to hum a low, predatory tune. "I have a sanctuary to build."