Late in the middle of the night, a man lay in bed beside his wife, hiding underneath his blanket as he scrolled through his phone. Milo, a grown man, had learned early on to be quiet about his late-night reading habits. The soft glow of his phone's screen illuminated his face in the darkness, but he pulled the blanket tight over his head to keep the light from waking his wife. She never minded him reading — in fact, she encouraged his love of stories — but Milo knew how exhausted she was after long days. He wanted her to get the rest she deserved, undisturbed by the droning glow of his screen or the faint tapping of his fingers.
His eyes flicked over the last line of a chapter in one of the forty web novels he was currently juggling. Forty simultaneous stories—some might call it madness, but to Milo, it was an endless gateway to worlds where imagination reigned supreme. The idea of finishing one book before starting another never sat well with him. Why limit himself to a single perspective when there were so many voices, so many stories clamoring to be heard?
He sighed, closing the app with a small smile. "Perspective is reality," he muttered quietly—a phrase he'd heard years ago but never forgot. It wasn't just a quote; it was a personal mantra, a lens through which he viewed everything.
Still restless, Milo scrolled through his phone, searching for something to fill the restless void between wakefulness and sleep. His eyes landed on a headline that dominated every news feed, every social media post:
VRMMORPG! The world of Althera, where myths and legends come alive! Will you become a legend?
Milo snorted softly. Clickbait, probably. He'd seen dozens of flashy announcements for games promising revolution, only to be disappointed by shallow mechanics and broken promises. Yet something nagged at him, and despite his cynicism, he tapped the article.
The screen loaded an embedded video—a developer's reveal. Neural dive technology, immersive sensory feedback, AI-driven NPCs indistinguishable from real players. A fully realized digital world where myths weren't just stories but living, breathing realities.
Milo's breath caught in his throat.
"NO FREAKING WAY!" he screamed, leaping upright in bed. The shout shattered the quiet night, instantly waking his wife.
"Milo! What the hell is going on? Is there a robber? Where's the gun? Did you call the cops?" Khloe yelled, panic thick in her voice.
He was still standing on the bed, eyes wide and gleaming like a child who had just uncovered a secret treasure. Drool escaped the corner of his mouth in his shock and excitement. Without thinking twice, he scrambled down and raced from the room.
The house was silent except for the pounding of his feet down the hallway. The shadows stretched long and ominous, but Milo barely noticed as he approached his son's room. With all his might, he slammed his foot against the door.
BAM!
The door flew open and slammed against the wall, rattling the entire house.
"AHHHHHH! What the f*ck?!" a young man shouted.
"Dad? What's wrong?!" Abel's voice trembled as he stared at his father, fear etched across his face.
Milo lunged forward, phone thrust in Abel's face. "Look, Abel! Do you see this sh*t? Watch—watch!" he urged, turning the volume to full blast.
Abel's eyes widened as the video played. Moments later, Milo's wife and daughter stormed into the room, their expressions a mixture of shock and confusion.
"Milo! What are you doing?!" Khloe demanded.
"SHHHHHHH!" Milo hissed, shooting them a warning glance before returning his focus to the screen.
"No... fuc—" Abel started, but Khloe cut him off sharply.
"Abel!"
"No... he's right... NO F*CKING WAY, RIGHT?!" Milo bellowed, his excitement overtaking him.
Khloe shot him a glare so sharp it could cut glass. Milo barely blinked.
He grabbed Abel's wrist and dragged him down the stairs in a whirlwind of frantic energy. His fingers found the keys hanging by the door, and with a fierce tug, he snatched them free.
"Dad, where are we going?" Abel asked, the thrill obvious in his voice.
"To your uncle's, of course!" Milo shouted back, already throwing on a jacket.
They scrambled out the door, grabbing whatever clothes lay closest—slippers, a hoodie that smelled faintly of their dog, mismatched socks—and jumped into the car.
With the engine roaring to life, Milo slammed his foot on the accelerator. The tires screamed as the car tore through the quiet streets, the night air whipping past the windows.
Ahead, another pair of headlights flared. Two cars screeched to a halt side by side, engines still rumbling. Two men burst from the vehicles and barreled toward one another like warriors meeting on the battlefield.
"Jason!" Milo roared.
"Milo!" came the reply.
"You saw the news, didn't you?!" they both shouted simultaneously.
Inside Jason's car, three pajama-clad kids rubbed their eyes sleepily, faces etched with confusion and fear.
"Dad... Uncle Milo... what the hell is going on?" one whispered.
Milo glanced at his nephews, caught mid-daze from being dragged from their beds. His gaze shifted back to his brother's. Their eyes locked, a shared understanding flashing between them.
"Call the others," they said as one.
"We're about to f*ck sh*t up!"
The engines idled as Milo and Jason stood side by side on the pavement, the night air cool against their skin. Around them, the quiet street was bathed in the pale glow of flickering streetlights, shadows stretching long and still. It was the calm before the storm—a moment heavy with anticipation. Milo didn't know what awaited them in Althera, but one thing was certain: whatever legends lay ahead, they would face them together.