It’s a little past 1 in the morning, but I’m not at my desk like I usually am. Instead, I’m staring at my most recent purchase lying on the bed in front of me. Out of the carbon-fibre packaging doubling as a case, the headset looks nearly identical to Issac’s, but not only because it’s the same model. From what I saw of it before I broke it, Issac must’ve taken great care of his headset for the last couple of years.

Luckily, the principal let me off relatively easily because of my conduct, but he told me Issac deserved a new headset and an apology by the next day. After I left, Dad picked me up and drove me to the hardware store. This time, he didn’t pull any punches on the car ride there— he really let me have it. Once we got there, he’d given me his credit card and told me to hurry.

Leaning against the bed frame,  I bring my knees to my chest and sigh. I thought things were bad yesterday, but it’s nothing compared to today. 

As I play with the headset case in my hands, I notice a black chip with a circular logo in one of the side slots. When I take a closer look, I realise there’s a curved, yet angular “W” plastered on its side. In each of its caverns are two claw shapes that have been turned almost completely vertically, aiming at the triangle hovering between the “W” ends.

I imagine myself in a sailor’s outfit transversing the storm when a siren appears before me. Although I try to block out the chanting, the seductive nature of her hymns seeps into my ears as she lures me to my doom, causing the ship to crash.

My parents won’t be back till even later. With no one to disturb me and no work to finish. I could try the headset on for a while, and Issac wouldn’t even know.

You gotta shake things up. Dad’s voice echoes in my head from my distant memory.

Screw it. As per the instructions, I pull out the charging cable in the case and plug it into the port under my desk. As I unravel it and bring it to my bed, I feel a sensation of excitement tingle through my skin. I’ve got the chance to try out something new.

I sink back into bed and hit the power button, inserting the disk into the top slot. As I place the headset around my head, a white screen with the CyberWorld logo appears on the screen.

“Greetings Adrian Leong,” A female automated voice says. “I am Cybrone, your in-game assistant. Please wait as we scan your frame.”

Slipping back the headset just enough to see my legs, I catch a laser grid beaming itself from my chest to my feet, briefly bathing my room in cyan.

“Scan successful,” Cybron says, and I feel a tingling at the back of my skull. “Welcome, Monochrome. Do not remove your Cognitive Resonance Gear.”

As I glance at the clock on my bedside table underneath the headset’s faceplate, I promise myself I won’t overstay my welcome.

Even though it’s 1 back home, the sun’s rays peek through the ink-stained clouds above and bathe the my cheeks in a warm glow, merely muted by its translucent overlay. As I shield my eyes, I realise I’m now in the middle of a circular plaza complete with European-inspired architecture and wooden arrows directing players to miscellaneous shops and restaurants. Five narrow alleyways are connected to the centre, leading to other establishments like inns and taverns. 

Meanwhile, a crowd has congregated in front of a wooden stage spanning about eight feet tall and a hundred feet wide, buzzing eagerly as they stare at the giant LED screen playing a looping graphic of Kakushin Games’ logo. Besides the speakers at the stage’s sides, there’s a lone vacant microphone stand for the host.

I take a step forward, feeling the weight of my boots sinking into the gravel below. While I kneel down to touch the ground, a mechanical crow with red eyes lands a few feet from my boots and eyes me, tilting its neck. Still crouched, I inch towards it and raise my hand to its throat, expecting it to nuzzle its beak into my fingers. 

Instead, it nips my palm.

“Ow!”

I bat my hand in front of its face, the crow backs away before flying like a normal bird would. Holding my right hand with my left, I wipe at the cut that’s conjured onto my skin, as blood flows into the crevices of my index finger.

Woah,  I think. Check out the responsiveness.

Five players a little older than I am are gathered outside the shops near the stage buzzing amongst themselves. Amongst them is a guy who has his arm strung around the shoulders of a girl in a yellow poncho–Brianna Welsh with her boyfriend, Daniel. She’s taken his hand in hers while the silver bracelet around his wrist sparkles almost as much as her smile. Around its circumference are several spikes close enough to Brianna’s wrist to make me fear for her safety.

I’m about to ask Daniel what I can do, but he turns his nose up at me–probably because he and Daniel are close friends. The look on his face is that of Issac’s friends after I damaged his visor, possibly stemming from his  (correct) belief that I’m new.

I don’t bother checking out what the stores have to offer. 

Eventually, I set my sights on another shop tucked away in a secluded corner. If it weren’t for the respectable icon of a sword with a stubby blade hanging above the entrance, this place would have flown under the radar. Plastered on the window is two handmade posters with rather humorous statements. The first says—

FREE GAME TOURS—JUST APPROACH THE COUNTER.

And the second, written in the same crude handwriting—

IF YOU NEED ANYTHING, ANYTHING AT ALL, JUST COME IN.

Someone’s desperate for customers.

The door chimes above brush against one another as I let myself inside, producing a clinking that disrupts the silent ambience of the store. Inside are open shelves with holograms of rifles with miscellaneous attachments. 

As I wave my hand through a pair of swords, I notice a figure in the corner of my eye. When I look up, the cashier is a young girl in a dark purple jacket with thick white lines wrapping around her sleeves. Her dark shoulder-length hair stands out against her pale skin and thin lips. It’s flowy, but its length pales in comparison to the chunky lilac scarf around her neck that reaches her knees.

She’s been watching my every move ever since I entered.

“Can I help you?” she asks.

“Oh, yeah. I’m looking for—” I shuffle awkwardly from the shelf and towards the counter. “Sorry, what do you sell?”

“Kinergy weapons, of course,” the girl laughs. “The best shop in Yunon.”

I nod. “So,” I ask. “You work here?”

“Well, I’m just an intern,” the girl explains. “I could’ve gotten a better role, but—oh well.”

“I see,” I eye the guns and swords on display behind the girl. “Is there anything you recommend? I’m new.”

The girl smirks.  “Well, there’s the POS-15,” She points to holograms of a pistol with a laser sight, and a shotgun pistol with three barrels stacked on top of each other. “And the TRIN-12. It can only hold three shells, but it’s deadly at close range. 

“The Town Square’s a Safezone, but it’s a free-for-all in the alleys,” The girl says. 

 I’m tempted to buy the gun with the laser sight based on its form factor alone, but the shotgun’s engraving is particularly enticing—Specially built for ambidextrous use.

“I’ll take the shotgun,” I say. 

“Great.” 

The girl swipes her right hand over her other arm, causing a holographic rectangle to appear above it.

 “Now do the same,” she says.

“What?”

“That’s how payments work here.”

A rectangle of my own pops up, featuring a series of words that hold no meaning for me. With a series of flicks and taps, the girl sends a payment confirmation asking if I want to buy the shotgun. I accept, and it appears as an icon in a section titled “Inventory”.

“Anytime you want to use it, just pull it out of your Wristool,” The girl says. She leans forward and clasps her hands together. “I’m assuming you’re going to the event later.”

“Maybe. I could,” I say, remembering the crowd from earlier. “What about you?”

“Of course,” the girl says. “But I’m not allowed to leave the store until work ends.” She glances down at her watch, running her fingers through her hair. “Just five minutes till I see my bosses in person.”

“Well, thanks for the weapon, uh—” I pause. I don’t know her name.

“Yoona,” the girl smiles. “I’ll see you around.”

…

The crowd has gotten even bigger after my time in the weapons store. Now, the entire town square is so full that some players have to watch from the alleyways. Luckily, the girl’s store is only a stone’s throw away from the stage, so I don’t have to squeeze through as many people to get a good view. Unfortunately, I end up in front of Daniel and Brianna. On the bright side, Daniel’s too wrapped up in their conversation to notice me.

A platoon clad in sleek navy armour surrounds the foot of the stage, carrying standard kinergy rifles. As Hachiyo promised, the Cybersecurity Reinforcement Division is here to protect her and Tokoshima—I recognise them by the black and yellow patches on their shoulders. Although their faces are barely visible, their leader easily towers over his comrades at six feet, surveying the crowd from the middle of the line. 

A fanfare erupts from the speakers on stage, as the Kakushin Games’ graphic disappears. Soon after, it’s replaced by a live camera showcasing the back of the stage. Once the crowd catches sight of the two women heading up the stairs, they erupt into applause. Seeing she ran up the stairs, Tokoshima is in position long before Hachiyo, who trails behind her at a leisurely pace. When they’re inches apart, Tokoshima pulls Hachiyo into a friendly embrace and snatches the microphone off its stand. Other than their costumes, their faces look more or less the same as what I saw on the holoview. 

“Hey everyone,” Hachiyo says, shifting her weight from her right leg to her left. She glances over the crowd as if she’s looking out for something—did the rumours get to her head after all?

“I’d talk about the weather, but I think it’d bore everyone to talk about my programming,” Hachiyo says. 

There’s some scattered laughter among the crowd, but her joke mostly fails to resonate with the audience. I’m sure Hachiyo’s dying to have the courage that Tokoshima has now. 

From below the stage, Leader looks up at Hachiyo and raps his knuckles on his rifle, pointing at his wrist where an imaginary watch would be. It’s a signal for her to hurry—they probably don’t think it’s a good idea for her to stick around too long. 

“Right,” Hachiyo composes herself, scratching her fingers with her nails as she reverts to her analytical nature. 

“As per fan demand, we’re holding a contest with all your favourite game modes.”

The crowd goes silent.

And they go wild.

“Thirty players, three million seats, and one winner,” Hachiyo says. Next to me, the boy leans forward in anticipation along with the rest of the crowd. 

“Trials of Audacity will be held at the Torukami Technodome at the end of the year,” Hachiyo explains. “Tickets will go on sale in the following weeks, so take note.”

“There might be a few surprises, too,” Tokoshima says. She cocks an imaginary pistol and aims at the audience. 

“Pew.”

“Ooo!” The crowd coos as if they’re in on some inside joke.

“See you in Tokyo at the Technodome, guys!” Tokoshima grins.

The announcement means nothing to me, but the crowd’s energy is still at an all-time high. As Tokoshima waves at the audience, the ground begins to rumble, causing nearly everyone in the vicinity to lose their balance. The same goes for the platoon at the stage, causing their weapons to clatter to the ground. Leader remains unaffected by the shaking after three robotic arms shoot out of his belt and drill themselves into the brick tiles below, keeping him upright.

A series of glitched codes in the shape of an oval materialises behind Tokoshima and Hachiyo. As Hachiyo helps Tokoshima to her feet, another group of soldiers with a barrage of weapons storm the stage. Their white ceremonial robes are fitted at the sleeves and legs, and on their chests is the symbol of a cross with stalks that grow larger at the ends, behind a giant A that’s almost as big as the circle that surrounds it.

“Daniel,” Brianna freezes, tugging on her boyfriend’s bracelet. “We need to leave, now.”

“How? We’re as crammed as sardines. Crap!” Daniel cries. “They’re doing cyberattacks now?”

Amongst those emerging from the portal is a hooded figure in darker robes than the rest. He paces across the stage, surveying the crowd. When he lifts his hood and lets it drop down his spine, I gasp when I recognise his scowl from my senior’s old yearbook.

Blevins?

His face is instantly recognisable to anyone who’s been online in the past few years. The insults about Enoch’s devotion to his cult come hard and fast, but he doesn’t look agitated by this outburst and waits for the audience to quiet down.

“My name is Enoch, leader of the Apostles. Through the First’s noble sacrifice, the being who brought this world into existence, we have been given the answer to navigating this world of computers—a complete reset. Technology has dragged humanity in a downward spiral, ever escalated by the War,” Enoch says. “This world has been driven away from faith, and into the hands of unfeeling machines. No more.”

Players in the crowd start hurling obscenities at Enoch, and they come hard, ranging from playground insults to remarks regarding his Korean ancestry. 

“Mr Blevins,” Hachiyo steps forward, still standing on stage with Tokoshima. Several C.R.D soldiers, including Leader, rush up the steps and circle them for protection, the charging of their weapons audible through the mic. “Your organisation has no place in my game. Please leave.”

Hachiyo’s statement drums up support from the crowd, but Enoch continues to stare daggers into Hachiyo’s soul. “If you’d check your interface,” He says. “You will see that the log-out button for everyone has vanished.

“So he trapped us?” A player behind me says. “Screw this. I’m calling my mum to take the headset off.”

“No, don’t,” Another says. “Severing the neural connection without logging out leaves you in a coma.”

“This is no mistake, but a necessity for the balance of life itself,” Enoch says. “I assure you, each death here on out will not be in vain.”

Hold on—what? This is just a game. You can’t really die, can you?

“ATTACK FORMATION!”  The C.R.D soldier next to Leader yells. She aims his weapon at Enoch on stage, but her gesture is met by the bolts from an Apostle’s machine gun. The kinergy bolts mow through her, leaving singed holes across her armour that emit residual smoke.

Tokoshima lets out a piercing scream as she and Hachiyo are escorted off the stage by the soldiers. Once they’re out of line of fire, some rush back up the stairs back to Leader and the rest of the platoon to hold their ground, but more Apostles are pouring out of the portal by the second, forcing it to tear to accommodate more soldiers.

“Squad, shields!” Leader treads back, pulling out a device that transforms into a riot shield made of crackling energy. It spans 180 degrees and provides cover from Leader's front and the top of his head. When the Apostles blast him from above, his shield whisks away any damage that could reach his head, dissipating any residual energy with a buzz.

One Apostle with a heavy machine gun notices one C.R.D soldier has yet to find cover, and shifts his attention towards him. From behind his shields, the C.R.D’s Leader yells the name of its comrade and reaches out to pull him away. 

It’s a pointless action. Not just because the Apostle is already holding down the trigger—a purple flash exuding from its barrel as he does it—but because he’ll never be called by his name again.

The Apostle mows through the soldier’s body, punching holes through his chest like he’s filing a death warrant in a binder dedicated to those lost too soon. He drops dead in an extreme game of limbo, but his finger stays on the trigger.

An arbitrary spray of red energy bolts follows suit.

I scream and drop to my knees, cowering from the sound of the gunfire shattering the glass windows of stores and shooting through a dozen people in the audience, killing them instantly. The soldier’s limp arm bobs up and down to the beat of the afterlife until the weapon runs out of ammo.

At this point, the crowd is in full panic. Everyone’s making a mad dash for the alleys to get as far away as possible. I push along with the crowd, but my foot bumps into a freshly porous corpse, and I fall flat next to him. 

Get me out of here. The screams of players still come from everywhere. Get me out of here.

A blue energy aura begins to envelop my body. It makes crackles as small lightning bolts the size of a ruler surge across my skin and disperse itself on the ground. On either side, a few players stop dead in their tracks to gape at the spectacle, glimmers of recognition evident in their eyes. 

The world around me gets brighter and brighter until the echoes of chaos from around all but fade.