In a vast blue space that stretched endlessly in every direction, the only interruptions were floating menus and half-formed scenery. Mountains flickered in and out of existence. The sky glitched, tearing like cracked glass before repairing itself seamlessly.
This was the avatar creation space.
It was a pocket dimension players would enter before officially logging into the world of Realm Beyond the Door.
The young man rubbed his temples.
"Status window," he said.
Nothing responded. There was not even a sign of the floating words that should have appeared.
"So many bugs," he muttered.
He waved his hand, pulling up the internal diagnostics. His avatar's shadow lagged half a second behind his movements. The terrain around him reset itself twice. A floating tree blinked in and out of reality.
If this went live, players would tear it apart within hours.
After one last look, the young man opened the exit menu.
[Log Out]
The blue space shattered around him.
He tore the VR headset from his head and exhaled a slow, tired breath.
"It is going to fail," he muttered to the empty room.
Staring at his own computer, he sighed. This young man's name was Enoch Winter, a QA tester and systems maintenance staff member at the company called Echelon Ark Studios. Right now, Enoch was deeply frustrated with this game, Realm Beyond the Door, a sandbox VR survival progression world. It was meant to be an immersive open-world VR MMORPG focused on exploration, trials, guild warfare, and territorial control.
The company had launched so many successful console games before: romance games, survival titles, and many more. This success was what funded the creation of their own VR headset and this ambitious game, designed to make players experience survival and other challenges firsthand.
And so, Enoch was tasked with testing the game in the two weeks leading up to its final launch. He was starting to see major, fundamental problems.
"Aaah, I cannot take this anymore! This is a nightmare!" he groaned.
The game's main selling points were its lack of a fixed ending, its absence of a chosen hero narrative, and a world that evolved purely based on player actions. Lastly, guilds were designed to be the true central units of power, not individuals.
Plus, there were plenty of jobs for players to choose from: knight, mage, devil hunter, pirate, and so many more. The players could become anything they wanted.
Which meant if this game succeeded, the company might rise to number one in the industry, and they would all be swimming in money. The pressure was immense.
But the reward came with great risks. If the game failed, the company would be finished, which would leave him unemployed.
"Aah, I should have listened to Mom! Making a living in New York is hard!"
No amount of polishing could fix this many glitches, not in one week. He had already sent three reports, and all of them were ignored. The company wanted hype, not stability.
The office was silent. The monitors around him flickered.
One by one, every computer in the room powered on. Text began appearing across all the screens at once.
[Hello, dear player.]
Enoch froze. His heartbeat spiked.
"I logged out…" he whispered.
The keyboards rattled on their own.
[Would you like to solve this glitch?]
"Nope."
He lunged for the power switch, shutting down the nearest computer. Then he moved to another, and another.
The screens finally went black.
For half a second, everything was quiet.
Then the sky outside the glass wall twisted.
A massive rift opened across the clouds, revealing a swirling void beyond the storm. Blue-white lightning gathered at its center.
Enoch turned, horror creeping up his spine.
"What the hell is that…?"
The VR headset in his hand began to vibrate violently.
A bolt of lightning struck toward him, shattering the whole building, hitting the VR headset, and coursing through his entire body.
Enoch screamed with all his might. "Aaaah, it hurts! It hurts!"
••
•••••
••••••••••
"Wake…"
Huh?
"Up."
Enoch did not know why, but it was as if he heard someone, a woman's voice.
"WAKE UP!"
"Ugh!"
Enoch's eyes flew open as he gasped heavily for air.
"HOW MUCH LONGER WILL YOU LAZE AROUND, SLEEPING PEACEFULLY, YOU FOOL!"
His eyes widened at the woman standing before him. She was extremely beautiful, with dark hair, glasses, and dark eyes. She folded her arms and glared at him. Was she a nurse? No. Looking around, he saw no hospital equipment, just an unfamiliar place.
His body felt both light and wrong at the same time. When he tried to sit up, a sharp pain shot through his chest, forcing a groan from his throat.
"…Am I still alive?"
She wore travel-worn armor, and a staff rested against the wall beside her. Her expression was calm and distant, like she was looking at a stranger.
"You survived longer than I expected," she said.
Suddenly, memories flooded in.
Memories which were not his own at all.
He was the only son of Count Palmerston. Well, a fallen count. The man had been publicly executed for betraying the imperial family. His family had been spared thanks to this woman before him, his mother, the last daughter of Marquis Ruperta: Angela Ruperta.
The woman placed a heavy pouch on the table.
"Inside is enough gold to last you for a while," she continued. "After today, you and I are nothing to each other."
What?! Enoch was in shock at the sudden declaration. He met her gaze.
"I see. No tears," she observed. "Just like your heartless father."
She turned away. "If we meet again," she said coldly, "do not speak to me. Do not call me mother, and do not use our name."
She turned toward the door.
"From this moment on," she added, "I no longer have a son."
The door closed.
Silence filled the room.
A moment later—
[Ding.]
[Guild Authority System Activated.]
[Unbound Authority Confirmed.]
Enoch exhaled slowly.
"…What the hell is happening?"