I woke up to the familiar hum of my morning routine, the soft buzz of my phone vibrating against the bedside table pulling me from a dreamless sleep. The room was bathed in the pale glow of dawn, filtering through my half-drawn curtains, casting long shadows over my cluttered desk and the worn carpet. Before anything else—before brushing my teeth or splashing water on my face—I grabbed my phone and opened the Galactic Game Online forum. My heart skipped a beat as I scrolled through my notifications. The Musician Class Transition Voucher I'd listed had sold for a whopping $8,000. Not bad, Haoyu, I thought, a grin spreading across my face. It was a fortune, more than I'd expected, and I'd jumped on the sale without hesitation. The money was a lifeline, a spark of hope in the mess of our lives.
The past 23 days had been… good, in their own way. My life had settled into a rhythm of hunting wolves in Galactic Game Online—endless wolves, their snarls and blood becoming as familiar as my own heartbeat. I'd carved through pack after pack, exploring the game's wilds, mapping uncharted corners of the starting town's outskirts. It sounded monotonous, but every moment spent with my sword was pure joy. The weight of the blade, the whistle of steel cutting air, the thrill of a clean strike—it was my escape, my sanctuary. The $8,000 had already made a difference: I'd enrolled Yuki in a better after-school course, and we'd bought a decent, if not top-tier, computer for her studies. Dad had vanished for a week after leaving, only to return looking… renewed, like he'd shed an invisible weight. His smile was brighter, his stories livelier, though I still caught him staring at the empty chair where Mom used to sit.
Today was different. No school. Today was for Mom. We were visiting her at the hospital, and I'd spend every second by her side. Dad, Yuki, and I piled into our creaky old car, its engine groaning as we set off. The road to the hospital wound through the city's underbelly, a patchwork of crumbling buildings and crowded streets. I'd seen it a million times, but the city's rough edges—the varoş, as we called it—always hit me hard. Street vendors hawking cheap trinkets, kids in patched clothes chasing a deflated soccer ball, tired faces waiting at bus stops… It was a world that felt both close and impossibly distant, a reminder of how fragile our own stability was. Yuki sat in the back, her face pressed against the window, her eyes misty as always. I reached back, ruffled her hair, and pinched her cheeks with a playful kiss. "No need to cry," I said softly. She gave a small smile and nodded, falling silent. Words weren't needed today. This visit was everything.
After a few hours, we reached the hospital, a sterile monolith of white walls and fluorescent lights. The antiseptic smell hit us like a wave as we stepped inside, sharp and clinical, clinging to our clothes. Yuki clung to Dad's hand, her steps hesitant, her eyes already brimming. I felt it too—the weight of this place, the memories it held. The doctor had called us in to make a decision, a conversation I dreaded. Mom had been in a coma for ten years, her brain showing no signs of activity. As we entered her room, the sight of her stopped me cold. She lay there, a sleeping princess frozen in time, her once-vibrant beauty faded but not gone. She'd been crowned Cherry Blossom Queen in her youth, a testament to her radiance, but now her face bore the toll of illness, her skin pale and sunken, her frame frail under the hospital blanket. Seeing her shattered something inside me, a barrier I'd built to keep the pain at bay. Tears spilled down my cheeks, unstoppable. I'm so tired, Mom. Please come back. We need you. The house has been quiet without you. Dad's a wreck, waiting for you. Yuki's our only spark, but it's not enough. Come back…
We stayed in her room for hours, the beeping of machines a cruel metronome. I held her hand, her skin cool and soft, tracing the lines of her fingers as if I could will her awake. Yuki sat curled in a chair, sketching in her notebook, her way of coping. Dad stood by the window, staring out at nothing, his shoulders slumped. After six or seven hours, the visiting hours ended, and a nurse gently ushered us out. I leaned down, pressing a final kiss to Mom's forehead, inhaling her scent—a mix of hospital antiseptic and the faint floral trace of her old perfume—as if I could lock it in my memory forever. Yuki waited outside, perched on a bench, while Dad and I headed to the doctor's office to talk about Mom.
"Welcome," the doctor said, his voice calm but direct. "I hope you're holding up. No need to drag this out. Your wife has been here for ten years, sustained by state aid, but that support ends today. Keeping her on the machines will cost about $30,000 a month." The number hit like a punch. My ears rang. That was five or six months of Dad's salary—an impossible sum. I glanced at Dad, and for the first time in years, I saw tears in his eyes, his face crumpling. Don't you dare break, Dad. If you go, we're done, I thought, my chest tightening. He handed me the car keys and said, "Go home." Yuki and I left, the drive back silent, neither of us daring to speak. At home, Yuki disappeared into her room, and I retreated to mine.
Sitting on my bed, the weight of everything crashed down. I had to do something. I needed money—fast. A job would mean grueling hours for pennies, not enough to help. The physics Olympiads were out; the Chinese teams were unbeatable, and I hadn't studied seriously in years—it'd take too long to catch up. My only shot was Galactic Game Online. I'd been planning ways to make money in-game—selling rare items, grinding high-value quests—but I hadn't tested them yet. Now, there was no choice. I grabbed the VR headset, its cool surface grounding me, and slipped it on. The real world faded, and I dove back into the game.
I opened my eyes deep in the Wolf Forest, the dense canopy above filtering the game's starry sky into slivers of silver light. The air was thick with the scent of pine and damp earth, the distant howls of wolves blending with the rustle of leaves. With a single leap, I cleared the forest's edge, landing lightly on the dusty road leading to the starting town. The guards at the gate, now familiar with my face, gave a curt nod as I passed. I headed straight for the sheriff's office to report on my ongoing task of mapping the forest. The map was coming along beautifully—over the past ten days, I'd been hunting wolves and earning 2 N-PSG per pelt, double my previous rate, while scouting the wilds. It was efficient: profit and exploration in one. After a quick chat with the sheriff over a cup of bitter tea, I left the stone building and made my way to the Nova Mercenary Community's starting branch. Today was my F-+ rank promotion exam, and I'd be training under a supervisor's watchful eye.
As I walked, my thoughts drifted. Yuan was around level 30 now, Bai at 24, Nero at 29. They were neck-and-neck, soaring ahead. The game had strained my friendships. Yuan was a forum superstar, his fame spiking after a public brawl with Daunt, the captain of the American guild Void Seekers. Yuan had won, and with tons of players watching, his rep skyrocketed. It happened during a month when we weren't talking, and the distance between us grew. Yuan, Bai, and Nero had even formed their own group, leaving me on the sidelines. Whatever, I thought. Yuan'll need me one day. I was still me—level 8, but my stats rivaled those of level 20-25 players. I was grinding hard to level up, especially with the Throne Games just six months away.
The Throne Games were a big deal. King Veld VIII, a barren king, was stepping down at 402 years old, looking younger than his age suggested—though how young could a 402-year-old look? I'd never seen him, but rumors painted him as vibrant. To choose his successor, he'd announced the Throne Games, a grand contest. His own wife opposed it, and he had her executed—talk about a duty-bound king. The format was still unclear, but it'd be massive, befitting an empire that had united nations for centuries. With six months to go, I pushed the thought aside and focused on the present.
I arrived at the Nova Mercenary Community's starting branch, a sleek building with glass panels and a faint hum of energy. Unlike the sheriff's grim office, the vibe here was welcoming. A fit woman with vibrant purple hair greeted me at the counter. "What's your business?" she asked, her tone professional but warm. "I'm here for the exam," I said. She requested my medallion, and after I handed it over, she directed me to Training Ground 8. I headed down a polished corridor, the faint buzz of machinery echoing around me. The exam area was empty—rank-ups were rare, so only three or four people might show up in a day.
A figure approached, their body fully covered, face hidden behind a mask. Instructors wore such gear to protect their privacy, a standard for training or exams. A robotic voice laid out the rules and how to forfeit, but I barely listened. My sword mastery was at a peak—I'm kinda good at this, I thought, smirking. The exam was a breeze. I slashed through holograms with fluid precision, my blade a blur of steel. It was over in minutes. That's it? The robotic voice congratulated me, asked for my medallion, and updated the system with a command. My clearance level rose, and my hologram updated:
Soldier: Haoyu Chen
Rank: F-+
Balance: 2804 N-PSG, 42 Gold, 23 Silver
[Store]
[Quests]
[Delivery]
Most F-+ soldiers took on protection quests—guarding, escorting, securing cargo, or deliveries. These were perfect for traveling without spending cash, a golden opportunity. Just then, my quest updated:
[Quest Updated]
Under the Stars, the Greatest
Details: Even the greatest commanders started at the bottom. Don't scorn your position; fight for power.
Progress: 8%
Rank: F-+
Rewards: 25 Free Stat Points, Recognition
This quest had popped up when I hit F-+ rank. I didn't dwell on it—probably just the hologram's system equivalent. Eager to spend my points, I opened the stat panel:
[Stats]
Health: 32 [+61]
Strength: 98 [+80]
Endurance: 60 [+120]
Intelligence: 60 [+42]
Spirit: 1 [+0]
Charisma: +32 [+3]
Free Points: 30
I split the 30 points evenly: 15 to Strength, 15 to Intelligence. Intelligence was a game-changer, unlocking abilities as it grew. I'd already gained a few skills from my stats. Boosting Strength to nearly 100 had unlocked Dance, an evasion-focused attack style. It let me weave through enemies like a dancer, striking with deadly grace. Stat-based skills were rare but powerful, earned every 100 points. Most of my stats came from passive points, which were hard to grind but still counted. It gave me an edge, letting me compete with higher levels despite being level 8.
Hitting 100 Endurance had unlocked [No Spoiler], a skill that let me feint attacks without tiring, disorienting enemies. It was perfect for outsmarting foes, though no one had dared attack me yet. Player-killing (PK) was huge, but Starting Village #47 was seen as a backwater. Every village had a story for progression—Village #1 was near the kingdom, offering guard recruitment. Lower-ranked villages dealt in farming, drugs, or mafia-like schemes. Village #47's story was a wolf invasion, but I'd nearly wiped them out. People couldn't figure out why the wolves were gone—I was too fast, too stealthy, leaving no trace. I'd scare wolves into clearings for newbies, but even those were scarce. I did what I could, I thought, my conscience clear. It was another forum rumor, but no one cared much—quiet towns like ours were common.
Yuan, Bai, and Nero had set out for Village #1, aiming to join the Royal Guards and compete in the Throne Games. Yuan's class had evolved massively, but it burned too much energy, and he was accidentally transforming things he didn't mean to. His rapid power growth made him unstable, so he hoped the guard training program would help. Nero had joined a bounty hunter clan active in villages 80 to 200, taking heads for commissions. Bai had gone full tank, shielding Yuan like always. Good luck, guys, I thought, but I wasn't sure they'd make it.
Back in the training ground, I gripped my sword, the weight familiar and comforting. The F-+ rank opened new doors—protection quests meant travel, connections, and better rewards. My 2804 N-PSG was a solid start, but I needed more to fund Mom's treatment. The Throne Games loomed as a distant goal—win there, and I could change everything. For now, I'd grind, sell rare drops, and climb the ranks. The forest mapping quest was my bread and butter, doubling my pelt profits while letting me explore. I'd already charted half the wilds, each step honing my senses and speed.
The Nova Mercenary Community branch buzzed with potential. Unlike the sheriff's dour office, this place felt alive—holographic displays flickered with quest boards, and mercenaries in sleek armor swapped stories. The purple-haired woman at the counter had a sharp efficiency, her eyes scanning me like she could read my stats. Handing over my medallion, I felt a surge of pride—F-+ wasn't much, but it was mine, earned through sweat and steel. The training ground, with its sterile walls and faint hum of tech, was a stark contrast to the wilds. The masked instructor's robotic voice droned on, but I was already visualizing my moves. The holograms were no match for my blade—each slash was a wuxia-inspired flourish, my Dance skill making me untouchable. The exam was over before it began, and the system's update felt like a quiet victory.
My stats were my edge. Strength and Intelligence a made me a hybrid of brute force and cunning. Dance turned fights into art, while [No Spoiler] let me toy with enemies, feinting to expose their weaknesses. My passive stats, built from relentless wolf hunts, gave me a stat pool most level 20s couldn't touch. The forums barely mentioned Village #47, dismissing it as a dead end, but I'd turned its wolf crisis into my proving ground. The rumors about the "ghost hunter" clearing the wolves? That was me, though I kept it low-key. Helping newbies by herding wolves into clearings was my quiet contribution, even if no one noticed.
Yuan's drama with Void Seekers had made him a legend, but his unstable powers worried me. His Reader of W class, hinted at in hushed forum threads, was a double-edged sword—immense power, but hard to control. Nero's bounty hunting and Bai's tanking were safer paths, but they'd all left me behind. Our group chats had gone quiet, and I felt the sting of being sidelined. Still, I wasn't bitter—Yuan would come around when he needed me. For now, I'd focus on climbing the ranks, stacking N-PSG, and prepping for the Throne Games. The king's contest was a mystery, but its scale promised chaos and opportunity. If I could make a name there, Mom's hospital bills might become a memory.