7:55 PM. Five minutes before the promised time.
I leaned against a cold marble pillar in front of the Primum City central fountain. Around me, thousands of players were still busy scurrying about, but my focus was split on the system log window hovering before me. I was monitoring price fluctuations on the digital black market while occasionally checking if any game administrators were on patrol.
To me, Aethelgard wasn't just a place to play. It was a messy web of data, and I was the curator trying to tidy it up—or scramble it for profit.
"Right on time," I muttered as I saw a female swordsman with a ponytail walking through the crowd.
Kanna. She was wearing the same beginner armor as yesterday, but something was different. She no longer looked like a confused tourist. Her eyes were sharp, scanning her surroundings with vigilance. She had learned quickly that in this city, even your own shadow could pick your pocket if you let your guard down.
"I don't like waiting," I said curtly as she reached me. I didn't give her time for pleasantries. "Follow me. We can't do this here."
I turned and walked quickly toward the narrow alleys of the city's slum district. Kanna followed behind without protest, the sound of her heavy footsteps on the marble floor sinking into rhythm with mine. I intentionally took a complex route, passing through corridors filled with beggar NPCs and the stench of digital trash, just to ensure no other players were tailing us.
We reached an abandoned training area on the outskirts of the city walls. The place was deserted, save for a few broken straw dummies and the ruins of buildings from the Alpha Test era.
"Why here?" Kanna asked, her breath a bit ragged from trying to keep up with my pace.
"Because what I'm about to teach you can get your account banned if spotted by a moderator," I replied, drawing my longsword. Its silver blade reflected the purplish digital moonlight. "You want to learn how to kill that glitch monster, right? Step one: Forget everything you read in the tutorial."
I stepped in front of one of the straw dummies. "Aethelgard's system works based on Action-Triggers. You press a button, your character moves. But there's a gap between the two—it's called input lag. Most players accept it as part of the game. But to me, it's a loophole."
Kanna watched with an intensity that almost made me uncomfortable. She drew her shortsword, mimicking my stance.
"Watch my feet," I commanded.
I performed a simple move. A vertical slash. But instead of letting the animation finish, I performed a crouchs, right in the middle of the swing. The result: my sword seemed to vanish and reappear in its original position within milliseconds.
Clang!
The straw dummy was cleaved in two, even though the system should have detected that my attack was canceled.
"That... how is that possible?" Kanna approached the dummy, touching the cut. "The system should cancel the damage if the animation doesn't finish."
"That's my first 'deception,'" I smirked thinly. "It's called a Frame-Clip. You force the system to send damage data before the move-cancellation data reaches the server. You have to do it in less than 0.05 seconds."
"0.05 seconds?" Kanna swallowed hard. "Is that even humanly possible?"
"For an average player? No. For us? It's the minimum requirement," I tossed her a wooden practice sword. "Try it. A hundred times. If you can't do it ten times in a row, we go home."
An hour passed. The night air in Aethelgard began to chill, but Kanna was drenched in sweat. Her breath came in gasps, and her stamina bar stayed perpetually in the yellow zone.
"Ugh... failed again!" she shouted in frustration after her sword was once again halted by the rigid system animation.
I sat on a stone ruin, watching her from a distance. Honestly, I was surprised. Most players would give up after ten minutes of trying a technique that felt 'impossible.' But Kanna? She kept swinging. Every time she failed, she simply closed her eyes for a moment, caught her breath, and tried again with a slightly different foot position.
She wasn't just trying to copy my movements; she was trying to understand the rhythm of the machine behind the game.
"You're too tense," I said, standing up and walking toward her. "You're treating this sword like a dead object. In Aethelgard, your sword is an extension of your neuro-link. Don't wait for your finger to press the button. Imagine the attack has already happened, then move your body."
I stood behind her, hesitating for a second before finally grabbing her wrist to correct the angle of her swing. Kanna's body stiffened slightly as I touched her. I could feel her heart rate through the Soul Link interface that automatically activates when two players touch.
Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
Her heart was fast, but not just from exhaustion. There was a frequency of excitement there. Dammit, why was I feeling a bit uneasy too?
"Focus," I whispered near her ear. "Now... swing."
Kanna took a deep breath. She moved. This time, there was no hesitation. Her wooden sword sliced through the air with a sharp whussh, and just before the animation ended, she dropped her body weight down.
PAK!
The straw dummy was struck so hard it was sent flying. A system notification popped up in the corner of our vision.
[Skill Acquired: Manual Chain (Unregistered)]
Kanna froze. She looked at her trembling hands, then turned to me with a beaming face. "I... I did it? I did it, Faker!"
Her joy was so pure that I was forced to look away. "That's just the basics. Don't get cocky. In a real fight, monsters won't stand still waiting for you to frame-clip."
"Still! This is the first time I've felt truly 'connected' to this game," she said sincerely. "Thank you, Aqua... I mean, Faker."
I only snorted, sheathing my sword. "Today's session is over. Go home and rest. Don't you dare talk about this technique at school tomorrow. If anyone finds out you can use a Manual Chain, you'll attract the attention of dangerous people."
"Dangerous people? You mean like moderators?"
"Worse," I stared at the vast night sky. "There are players in this game who will use any means necessary to get information on system loopholes. And if they find out a rookie is being taught by 'The Glitch Hunter,' they won't hesitate to destroy your account just to lure me out."
Kanna went quiet, her cheerful expression fading slightly, replaced by a deeper understanding of the world she was entering. She nodded slowly. "I understand. I'll be careful."
As she started walking toward the log-out point, I called her once more.
"Kanna."
She turned back.
"Why are you so obsessed with becoming strong? You could just enjoy this game as a casual player. You have friends at school, you have a normal life."
Kanna gave a thin smile, one that looked a bit sad under the moonlight. "Because in the real world, I've always felt like an NPC. I just go with the flow, do what I'm told, and never have control over anything. In Aethelgard... I want to be the protagonist of my own story. Just like you."
She vanished in a pillar of blue light, leaving me alone in the silent ruins.
"Protagonist, huh?" I muttered to myself, staring at the hand that had held her wrist. "This world has no protagonists, Kanna. Only those who deceive, and those who are deceived."
But deep in my heart, I knew that my conviction had just cracked, ever so slightly.