Chapter 1 - Part 4

I don’t remember applying for an MMO.

One moment I’m late for my fifth-class “sync orientation,” the next I’m staring at a giant neon portal that keeps blinking “LOADING...” in my face.

As the system pops up, “USER NOT RECOGNIZED”, I think: Well, this is going great.

[SYSTEM STATUS: CONNECTION STABILIZING]

[ZONE: HOLLOW LOBBY – ERROR LOCKED]

[USER: — // CLASS: — // NAME: —]

No name. No class. No tutorial. Just an existential “Error 404: Player Profile Not Found.”

I glance around. Everyone else is busy tapping holo-menus or chatting about “quest XP” like ordering a drink at your local cafe. Meanwhile, I’m the only one whose inventory tab just says, in bright red:

[INVENTORY: EMPTY]

[HEALTH: UNDEFINED]

[LEVEL: UNLISTED]

Great. I’m the only guy with zero bars. Literally zero. Even the pesky rats in the Reaches have a health bar, mine just reads “¯\(ツ)/¯”

“Sera!” I call out, because every protagonist needs a buddy, right? Except Sera isn’t here yet. Instead, the only response is a glitching drone that hovers overhead, trying to scan me. Its scanner eyes spin like a kid’s fidget spinner.

“Welcome, Lyric,” it drones (ironically, since it doesn’t even know my name). “Please select a Class to proceed.”

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

I pinch the air like I’m on a cooking show. “Uh—Class ABC? Or maybe Class ‘I Have No Clue’?” The drone emits a sad honk and retreats.

A voice crackles in my head:

“Nullborn—unclassified entities are required to take the Name Trial.”

Name Trial? I can barely handle naming my next Instagram post. Trials sound optional—like “Trial-size chips.” But down here, “optional” means “or be erased.”

I slump against a pillar. Around me, banners proclaim “NAME = POWER” in angry red glyphs. Next to that: “SYSTEM = GOD” (which, if true, means I just offended God by existing.)

I close my eyes and breathe in the smell of ozone and stale code. My stomach growls from hunger and existential dread. Then my phone buzzes. No joke, I forgot I even had a phone.

The screen reads: “Reminder: Buy milk.”

I knock it out of my hand. If I can’t even get a name, how am I supposed to find milk? I open my inventory again. Still empty. So I do what any self-respecting newcomer does: I rage-quit, in voice only.

“Fine. Lock me out. I’ll go back to my Streamspire instead!”

[SYSTEM STATUS: NAME TRIAL MANDATORY]

The mist around my feet shimmers. My boots sink half an inch into the floor. The Hall rumbles. Guess that’s a no on the milk. Just then, the air ripples. A shimmer appears where no door should be. It looks like someone cut a hole in reality and stapled “EXIT” above it.

I take a deep breath. Step forward.

Halfway through, I remember: I have no idea what I’m doing. I’m under-leveled, unarmed, and my only skill is sarcasm. But hey, so is Sera.

A hand grabs mine.

“Ready for your trial?” she smirks.

“You look like you could use a friend.”

I glance at her… roughed–up scavenger gear, sharp eyes, that “I’ve-seen-worse-but-I’ll-humor-you” grin. I manage a wobbly nod.

“Good,” she says.

“Because they said they’d kill anyone who fails.”

Swipe back to my phone: still no new reminders.

“Name Trial, huh?” I mutter to the door. “Let’s dance.”

The portal closes behind us with a sound like a million error messages popping at once. My heart thumps in time with the code-beat. The world shifts. The Name Trial awaits. Who knows?

Maybe I’ll unlock “Level 1: Survived an Existential Crisis.”

Either way, I’m not going anywhere.

—Lyric, probably dead in T-minus… well, we’ll find out.