Free Web NovelChapter 1: A bad start
[12:00 PM, October 9, 2552, Sector 7 Slums, on the outskirts of Dawnreach City.]
Bang!
In a shabby shack, a half-naked teenager had been sitting cross-legged on the old, rotten wooden floor.
The slender boy, with ugly, sickly lines carved into his figure, looked like the type of scavenger found at the bottom of society – especially in this era, even worse.
His breath steadied, his ribs visibly protruding beneath his thin, pale skin.
His confused blue eyes looked around with clear boredom, then at the body that shared the same name as him.
"What can I say now?"
Vyral didn’t even feel surprised after receiving this body. Maybe the painful sensation of being run over by Truck-kun was still lingering in him, overwhelming everything else... or maybe the feelings of this body had remained with him – miserable, unfair, and painful, beyond words.
Tired, Vyral turned his attention...to a revolver.
Vyral picked it up, his fingers brushing over the muzzle, still hot after the first shot. Then, he wiped the blood off it against his worn-out pants and muttered under his breath.
"So, that was what you chose... a release."
Vyral added in a sympathetic voice as the memories of this body resonated in his mind, mostly merging with him at this moment. In his view, the body’s previous owner wasn’t wrong to choose death. It was the best option, considering what he would have to face and how hopeless things were with this body’s wretched potential.
Hesitating, Vyral picked up the worn-out helmet nearby. His gaze fell on the twenty logos printed on its back, each representing one of the twenty ruling corporations.
He lingered for a while before putting on the helmet, recalling the terrifying things the previous owner of this body had endured just minutes ago.
He pressed the start button instinctively, like he used to when playing MMORPG games in his old world. Only seconds later, a slight tingling sensation spread across his head, and then his consciousness was suddenly transported into a pitch-black space where only he existed.
Vyral floated in the air with his naked body, a strange sense of satisfaction blanketing him.
The next second, bright text appeared to greet Vyral.
[Welcome to The Rise of King Arthur in the Apocalypse game.]
[Do you want to participate in the game right now?] frёewebnoѵēl.com
[Yes/No.]
Name: Vyral Carlson
Race: Goblin ( common)
Class: Evolver ( common)
Level: 1
Experience: 0/100
—
Strength: 1
Intelligence: 1
Wisdom: 1
Dexterity: 1
Constitution: 1
Charisma: 1
—
"So, that’s why he killed himself... A goblin?"
One of the weakest basic races in The Rise of King Arthur in the Apocalypse game. In this world, there was an unshakable belief: goblins were considered the weakest and most useless race, even worse than common humans. It wasn’t a baseless judgment, but a conclusion drawn from hundreds of years of accumulated statistics gathered by the developers since the game’s creation.
He checked the bullets left in the six-shooter and forced himself to smile.
There were still three bullets left.
’’Should I choose the way like him?’’
In a world that has been reshaped and transformed since the apocalypse 500 years ago, where a human who was unable to evolve could never survive past twenty years old.
The polluted environment, scarce food sources, and rampant diseases would eventually kill him... Well, the harsh reality was that he probably wouldn’t live another two or three years in this body.
The only hope was The Rise of King Arthur in the Apocalypse, a kind of Massively Multiplayer Online Role-Playing Game that could hopefully help him evolve. By killing monsters and completing trials in the game, he could gain power, money, and on top of that, a supernatural body capable of surviving in this world. That game wasn’t just a simple virtual world, but the key to survival for everyone in this world.
...However, the stats shown after The Rise of King Arthur in the Apocalypse game assessed this body’s DNA completely shattered the old owner’s will.
Death had been predetermined from the very beginning.
The Rise of King Arthur in the Apocalypse game wasn’t a playground for talentless players. Fate had already been carved deep into their genetic code from the very start, just waiting for the day it would be revealed when their system activated.
"So, my ancestor was a goblin?" Vyral joked to himself.
Should he just give up?... Just end it all with a gentle death rather than struggle pointlessly and die painfully in the end.
Now, Vyral had a second chance – with a new body – to experience that hell.
But for the first time in his whole life, a positive thought formed in his mind. It was quite rare for someone like Vyral, who had been molded into a pessimistic person by the vicious cycle of capitalism.
Being reincarnated into this untalented body might not have been a good start, but that didn’t mean the ending was not good either.
"I don’t want to live in regret anymore."
He didn’t want the words ’if only’ to appear again. He couldn’t even count how many times he had said them in his former life, to the point that he disgusted himself.
He grabbed the six-shooter tightly, steeling his will.
"I’ll never know if I don’t give it my best shot."
***
By the time the young man had been boiling water on a rusty induction cooker, an old man emerged from the darkness, far from the dim light of a bulb hanging from the ceiling of the shabby shack, its unsteady flicker looking like it could give out at any moment.
The messy silver-haired old man gently took off his old gas mask, revealing a smudged, wrinkled face – especially his yellow teeth when he smiled.
"Kid, let’s see the fruits of my hunt."
He lifted two rats, each the size of a fully grown cat, limp in his hands.
"Hi, grandpa," Vyral smiled. His voice carried a hint of politeness toward the man who had risked his life to raise this body. After all, raising a kid in this poverty-stricken place meant trading away a lot.
Kids were nothing more than burdens, as they weren’t able to connect to the virtual world until they were seventeen – the age when the neural system in their brains was strong enough to endure the helmet’s biological electromagnetic waves. Thus, until that time, it took them a lot of money, effort, and time to heal children’s sick, unevolved bodies . As a result, abandoning children was a common thing in this world, especially among the destitute, lower class.
The old man, called Polly, chuckled, headed over Vyral, and tossed the two big rats into the boiling pot.
Vyral sat on a worn-out piece of cardboard, watching what might be his last meal float in the boiling water, their eyes hollow.
20 minutes later...
Vyral gulped as he watched the rat lying on an old tray of food, and picked it up. He glanced at the old man chewing the rat deliciously, as if it were a premium meal, then turned his black eyes back to his meal.
"I have to try. Foul or not, I still need to stuff my stomach."
He took a big bite, devouring it without chewing. Yet the disgusting taste lingered on his tongue – a bitter, meaty flavor, like liquid squeezed from a sock worn for a year.
He grimaced in extreme disgust, tapping gently on his bare chest to force it down.
A dozen minutes passed after they finished their meal, Polly asked in a probing tone.
"Seems you’ve seen your stats... is it good?"
...
Vyral answered with a smile on his lips. Trying to show that he had just received a decent class and average stats.
’’It’s very good, grandfather. I prepared for my first entry into the game.’’
Polly stared at his grandson with a complicated look. He didn’t know whether Vyral was telling the truth or not. He already knew how harsh this world was for children – especially for people like them, scavengers who were born with low gene code from a wretched bloodline. Moreover, Vyral’s physical condition had always been strangely fragile ever since he adopted him. He believed Vyral had such a low gene code that he would never live past 10 years old.
But... Vyral was still alive, like a resilient cockroach, up to this point.
"Hope you’re still holding on to that willpower, kid."
Moreover, in the first entry into the game, new players always had to undergo an opening dungeon before officially playing the game.
The failure rate for scavengers like them was always around 70–80%; it was quite harsh.
But even so, he still hoped his grandson would be fine.
"Don’t give up, kid. Once you pass the opening dungeon, the new world will open up to you."
Vyral nodded at Polly before putting on the helmet. Vyral once again entered the pitch-black space, and this time, he wouldn’t hesitate to choose [Yes].
[All conditions have been met.]
[Scanning your DNA for gene codes.]
[Initiating gene selection.]
[Initiating genetic restructuring and reformation.]
[Awakening in progress.]
...
[Class successfully awakened again.]
[Class: Primordial Evolver (Mythical)]
A/N: I hope you enjoy this novel. Support by adding to your library and giving a power stone or two. Thank you.
