November 6, 2022. 6:00 PM – Town of Beginnings, Floor 1

  The fountain water kept running. A thin stream fell from the central statue—a generic figure, a knight with its face hidden—splashing softly into the stone basin. The drops echoed against the worn marble.

  Tick, tick, tick.

  Silver was still there.

  Sitting.

  Alone.

  The sun was starting to sink, and shadows stretched further across the town. Around him, the main square of the Town of Beginnings looked like a postcard frozen in hesitation. Players moved, but without purpose. They paced in circles, whispered in low voices, looked up at the sky as if Kayaba himself might reappear to say: It was a joke. Go home.

  Some kept shouting. Others simply stayed silent. Like him.

  Silver opened his menu for the eighth time in the past half hour. The same motion, the same result.

  Nothing.

  The logout button was still missing.

  He closed the floating panel with a sigh. The interface vanished before his eyes, as if mocking him.

  —They'll fix it! It's just a really long cutscene! —someone yelled from a corner.

  Nobody answered.

  —The government's probably already talking to the developers. This isn't going to last...

  A boy shrugged and dropped to his knees by a wall. Another closed his eyes and began to pray.

  A couple argued near the fountain. She wanted to go hunt monsters. He said it was madness. That they still didn't know if the damage was real. If dying meant...

  —...you really die.

  The words no one had dared to say until now hung in the air like ash.

  Hours earlier, a player, convinced the whole thing was fake, had jumped off the edge of the first floor, swearing he'd disconnect upon death and log back in to prove it.

  He never returned.

  The player's name, Rakgod, vanished automatically from the black monolith inside the cathedral—along with a hundred others in only a few hours. None of them ever reappeared.

  Every few minutes, another name was crossed out. A reminder that the game's developer had been dead serious, whether they wanted to believe it or not.

  Slowly, the number of players willing to act as if it were all a prank began to shrink. Many still claimed it was a joke or a special event. But none were willing to test the theory anymore.

  Time kept passing, and Silver realized he was hungry. It was strange.

  Not a floating message, not a notification. Just... hunger.

  Human. Dull. Physical.

  Like when he used to come home late after playing all afternoon, only to find his mother hadn't had time to leave food ready, and he'd have to wait for Valeria to improvise something with whatever was in the kitchen.

  He stood up without much will and started walking across the square.

  Looking around, he noticed people no longer seemed stuck in place. Some had begun moving, acting as if life went on.

  A girl with pigtails was selling low-value items in front of an empty shop.

  A group was haggling over potion prices with an NPC.

  A pair of players stepped out of an inn, wiping their eyes. Had they slept?

  Silver opened his menu and checked his profile.

  Col: 50.

  Not much. Not little. Just what everyone received at the start.

  He walked up to an improvised stall. A thin man—or rather, an avatar trying to look friendly, with the name "Greg" hovering above his head—offered him a bowl of what looked like dry rice with meat of unknown origin.

  —Five col —he said.

  Silver paid without a word. The taste wasn't bad... but it wasn't real either.

  He ate in silence, standing, watching others negotiate while nervously glancing up at the sky.

  Nobody trusted anyone.

  Not yet.

  He didn't want to spend money on an inn. It felt unnecessary. So he walked down one of the side streets of town and sat against a wall of artificial bricks.

  The ground wasn't too hard. He was tired. He let himself sink down.

  But the cold hit him at midnight.

  First in his fingers. Then in his back.

  It wasn't cosmetic.

  His body trembled.

  His teeth chattered.

  He couldn't sleep. Not with that painfully real feeling of being exposed. Vulnerable.

  He stood up again, cursing under his breath, and headed back toward the square.

  He found a modest inn. A wooden facade with orange lanterns and a simple sign that read:

  "REST"

  He went inside. An automated system offered him a basic room.

  —Thirty col —he read on the menu.

  He sighed. Accepted. Tomorrow he'd have to go out and hunt some monsters to sell items and make money.

  He went upstairs. Closed the door.

  The room was tiny, but warm.

  He fell asleep quickly.

  And for the first time since he had arrived in that floating hell... he dreamed of the real world.

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  November 7, 2022. 7:00 AM – Town of Beginnings, Floor 1

  He woke up without recognizing where he was. It wasn't his room in Silver Creek. Nor his dorm at the university. It didn't look like Valeria's house either.

  Until he noticed, in the top-left corner of his vision, a green bar—a painful reminder that this hadn't been a nightmare.

  With a trembling hand, he made the motion he'd repeated so many times the day before...

  And the floating game menu unfolded.

  Silver closed his eyes and swallowed hard. It was all true.

  Not a strange dream from using Renji's device.

  He was still trapped in the damn game.

  He got up—he hadn't taken off his clothes, so he was ready to head out. Outside the inn, he walked toward one of the town gates.

  Once outside, he drew for the first time the sword that had been on his back since logging in. He swung it without feeling anything special. Practiced the motion a few times. Killing low-level monsters shouldn't be too hard.

  He started walking until he saw a group of three players fighting two boars. He stopped at a distance to watch how they did it.

  The boars—about the size of large dogs, with curved tusks and bloodshot eyes—charged with force. One of the players, apparently the most skilled, activated a sword skill. His blade glowed and sliced cleanly into the creature's flank. A floating damage number appeared. A good hit.

  But the other boar didn't stop.

  It charged straight at the player and rammed him with a dull thud, knocking him flat on his back. The impact was brutal. His avatar bounced on the ground, weaponless. His two companions stepped back.

  —Help! —the player screamed, his voice high-pitched, ragged—. Don't leave me!

  But they were already running. One turned back to look, but didn't stop. They fled.

  —No! NOOOO!

  The boars lunged at him. One bit his leg. The other slammed into his chest. Then another hit. And another. And another. The red marks multiplied like cracks on glass.

  The player writhed. Tried to crawl, but his arms shook. Each charge lifted him a few inches off the ground before smashing him down again.

  His health bar dropped, slowly. As if the game wanted to make sure no one could look away.

  —PLEASE! —he screamed—. I DON'T WANT TO DIE!

  A boar's squeal drowned his words. One slashed his nose with a claw. Another ripped his chest open in a diagonal line.

  No blood, only those red slashes...

  But the horror was worse because of it.

  It didn't look like a wound; it looked like a warning.

  A punishment.

  Silver stepped back. He couldn't breathe.

  The player stretched out a trembling hand toward nothing. His eyes seemed to beg for help, for justice, for meaning.

  But there was nothing.

  Only the ground. And the pain.

  —SOMEONE! —he cried—. SOMEO—!

  A red light blinked over his body. A sharp beep. His health bar hit zero.

  And then, without ceremony or glory, his body shattered into hundreds of crystal shards that dissolved into the air.

  As if he had never existed.

  Silence.

  The wind carried away the last sparkles. Only the boars remained, snorting, as if searching for their next prey.

  Silver stumbled back two steps. He couldn't feel his legs.

  Nausea struck without warning. He bent over and vomited onto the grass. His throat burned. The acid taste was nothing compared to the weight in his chest.

  He had just seen a human being die.

  Not a character. Not an avatar.

  A boy.

  With a voice. With fear. With a name.

  And then nothing.

  No blood, no grave, no goodbye.

  This isn't a game.

  This is Aincrad.

  And it's alive.

  And it's hungry.

  There was no doubt anymore.

  This was real.

  Too real.

  He managed to get up and bolted back to town in terror.

  November 10, 2022. 3:00 PM

  Silver had spent the last two days sitting in a side street of the Town of Beginnings. He'd spent his last col on food and tried to sleep with little success, suffering the autumn chill of Aincrad. The icy air pierced his bones. The ground, once harmless, now hurt. It was hard to remember this was a game.

  Since seeing that player die—devoured, torn apart, erased by boars—he hadn't been able to cross the town gates again.

  Fear paralyzed him.

  Hunger consumed him.

  He had tried to sell the basic sword he had, only to discover, to his dismay, that starter items weren't transferable or sellable.

  And he wasn't the only one in that situation.

  The players still lingering in town were, for the most part, those without the courage to leave. Those who feared death. The strong had already moved on, leaving the rest behind.

  Amid the desperation, some voices began blaming the beta testers for not "taking responsibility" for the newbies. Resentment spread like a heavy fog... but others, like Silver, were too drained to hate anyone.

  Fear ate them alive.

  He closed his eyes, as he had so many times, just wishing time would pass a little faster.

  And then he heard it.

  A voice. Soft. Warm. Almost musical...

  But laced with real concern.

  Silver slowly opened his eyes.

  Crouched in front of him was a girl. Shiny black hair, fair skin, delicate features. But the most striking thing—the detail that cut through the air completely—were her eyes: honey-colored, glowing with a golden light beyond description.

  The first eyes with light he'd seen since this nightmare began.

  —Are you hungry? —she asked.

  Silver nodded slowly, as if his thoughts couldn't quite catch up to her. She opened her inventory. Pulled out a piece of bread and what looked like a notebook. She offered him the bread first.

  Silver took it with some hesitation, but she wasn't offended. She only smiled at him gently. A small smile. Honest. Silent.

  —Th... tha... nks... —he managed to say, his voice broken. Then he looked at the bread—. And you... what do you get out of this?

  —What could I possibly get? It's just bread —she answered, without the slightest trace of annoyance.

  He ate it as if it were the best meal of his life.

  She stood up and handed him the notebook.

  —It's a guide written by the beta testers to help beginners. It's being distributed for free in some shops. Read it... it'll increase your chances of surviving.

  Then she turned to leave. Before walking away, she looked back one last time.

  —Don't give up —she said softly, but firmly.

  And walked down the street.

  Silver couldn't take his eyes off her. He watched her approach other players. She gave each of them bread and a copy of the guide. Some received it gratefully. Others looked at her with suspicion. One even threw the bread back at her and cursed. She lowered her head, apologized with a small gesture, and moved on.

  At the end of the street, she spoke to another girl with short, dark brown hair. That girl broke into tears, and the golden-eyed one hugged her without saying a word. Then helped her stand, and they left together.

  Silver watched her disappear among the alleys.

  And for the first time in days... he took a deep breath.

  This place would be so much better if there were more people like her.

  He opened the notebook she had given him and began to read.