The moment Kim opened his eyes, the real world faded. A soft wind brushed across his skin, rustling digital leaves above him, while birds chirped with almost insulting authenticity. He lay in a field of glowing grass, watching the clouds swirl in impossible shades of gold and violet. Log-in complete, chimed a soft, invisible voice. Welcome back to Eden Zero.
Kim sat up, his fingers instinctively brushing the hilt of the beginner's blade at his side. He hated how peaceful the starting zone looked—like it was mocking him. Everyone loved this game for its beauty, its realism, the freedom. But Kim was here for one reason only: her.
He didn't know her name. Only the alias she went by: Luna. A high-level player, S-rank, untouchable. She'd saved him during an in-game event three months ago, during a raid he had no business entering as a low-tier player. He should've died. But she'd shown up like a comet, cleared the entire field, and stood over him like a glitch in the sky. She'd laughed once, called him "brave or stupid," then logged out before he could even respond.
Since then, her face haunted his dreams—half-coded, half-remembered. He tried messaging her through the game's internal mail system. Nothing. She didn't show up on the public leaderboards. She hadn't been online again since that night. No one he asked knew her. It was like she never existed at all.
But Kim knew better. He remembered her voice. The way she moved in the game—not robotic like NPCs or jerky like new players, but like someone dancing through war. He remembered how her avatar's eyes flickered like starlight—maybe a cosmetic, maybe a glitch. Either way, unforgettable.
The only clue he had was that she was S-rank, and S-rank was locked behind a brutal level cap. You couldn't buy your way in. Couldn't team up or use cheat shortcuts. It was a solo grind past Level 80, through punishing dungeons, resource zones, and PvP arenas where most players rage-quit before even hitting Level 60. Kim was at Level 17.
He stood slowly, dusting pixel-dirt from his coat. He'd reset his build last night—stripped his skill tree down to melee and mobility. No flashy powers. No magic crutches. Just a sword, stamina, and whatever reflexes he could sharpen with practice. This was going to be hell. But Kim didn't want help. He didn't deserve help. If he couldn't reach her on his own, he didn't deserve to see her again.
A notification blinked in his peripheral vision. Questline: Path to S — Initiated. Objective: Survive and Rise.
The system offered him a tutorial prompt. He dismissed it instantly.
Kim narrowed his eyes at the distant mountain range. Beyond those peaks was the gate to the next tier. C-rank territory. PvP-enabled. No respawn grace period. He slung his blade over his shoulder and started walking.
Behind him, the field swayed peacefully, unaware that its most stubborn player had just begun the impossible.
Kim didn't bother checking the player forums. He already knew what they'd say: "Don't bother grinding solo." "Meta builds only." "Group or die." But those people weren't chasing ghosts. They weren't waking up in the middle of the night, hearing a voice that barely existed. Luna had logged out like a whisper—and now, silence.
The grassland faded behind him as the terrain shifted into dense woods, the canopy thick enough to choke sunlight. This was the edge of B-class territory, where enemies were programmed to adapt. No spawn patterns. No easy XP. Just chaos. Kim moved in silence, his eyes flicking to shadows, blade half-drawn.
A low growl echoed from the underbrush. A moment later, a pair of eyes gleamed in the dark—feral, amber, unblinking. Kim didn't hesitate. He dashed sideways just as the creature lunged, a jagged blur of fur and teeth. His blade caught it mid-pounce, carving into its side before it vanished into code. +540 XP. Barely a scratch. He didn't stop moving.
Fighting alone wasn't just a playstyle—it was an entirely different game. There was no one to draw aggro, no healer watching his back. Every dodge mattered. Every swing burned stamina he couldn't recover unless he stood still. And standing still was death.
By the time Kim reached the clearing, his health bar was barely visible. He knelt by a stream—one of the few non-hostile zones in the area—and splashed cold water on his face. It felt real. Too real. Like the game was trying to fool him into forgetting that none of this mattered. But it did matter.
As he caught his breath, a flicker of movement caught his eye. A holographic shimmer hovered just above the water. It wasn't system-generated. It was a memory. A recorded echo from the day Luna saved him.
Her voice, distorted but clear: "You've got guts, kid. But you'll die out here alone."
Kim stared at the message. It had appeared unprompted, buried in a random part of the map, left like a breadcrumb. A remnant. His breath hitched.
He hadn't imagined her.
But why would the system retain a voice log from an event that was supposed to be wiped? Was this just a bug? Or had she meant for him to find it?
Kim stood up slowly, eyes scanning the treetops. Something inside him twisted—not fear, but the weight of hope. Dangerous, addictive. If Luna left that message, then she had to be real. Not a hallucination. Not a corrupted memory. Real.
He pressed forward, deeper into the forest. The next zone transition would be brutal: a PvP arena known as The Hollow Vale, where death meant a full rank reset. Most players only entered with a squad. Kim? He entered alone.
The moment he crossed the boundary, an alert flashed: Warning: PvP Zone. All safety protocols suspended. He tightened his grip on his blade. The landscape darkened, the sky turned gray, and faint sounds of distant clashes echoed through the trees.
Within minutes, he was ambushed.
Three players in matching crimson armor dropped from the trees—Syndicate hunters. They didn't ask questions. Just charged. Kim barely managed to deflect the first strike, redirecting the energy into a sidestep. The second player threw a paralyzing dart. Kim took the hit—but used the pause to roll beneath the third player's lunge.
He struck back hard, not with power but precision. Hit weak points, not armor. He dropped one opponent fast. The other two hesitated.
"Solo player?" one of them said, scoffing. "What a joke."
Kim didn't reply. He just moved.
The next thirty seconds were blood and blur. He didn't fight like a tank or a isswordsman. He fought like someone who had to win, or die forgotten. When the last opponent fell to digital ash, Kim staggered forward, panting, body shaking.
+3000 XP. Zone Cleared.
His level-up chime rang out softly. Now Level 22. Still miles away from S-rank. But closer than yesterday.
He didn't celebrate. Just kept walking.
Night fell in the game world. The Vale glowed under ghostly moons, illuminating forgotten ruins ahead. A whisper of wind carried a familiar scent—like starlight and frost. It reminded him of the last moment he saw Luna.
He stopped beneath a twisted, dead tree and looked up.
"I'll find you," he said aloud.
The game didn't answer.
But the stars above shimmered like they were listening.