When I logged into Heaven's Gate Online, I expected a world that would change everything. A place where the boundaries between reality and fantasy blurred, where the system would guide me—tell me what I was good at, what skills to learn, how to level up. Everyone said it was the most immersive VRMMORPG ever created. The system was its heart and soul.
Everyone except me.
As the loading screen faded, the virtual world stretched out before me—vast, beautiful, and terrifyingly real. I found myself standing alone on a gentle slope overlooking a valley that seemed painted by the gods themselves. The sky was a clear, deep blue. Trees whispered with the wind. The scent of fresh grass filled my senses, so vivid it almost felt like I was truly there.
But there was no interface.
No glowing health bar.
No mini-map floating at the corner of my vision.
No skill icons shimmering ready to be unlocked.
Nothing.
I blinked, thinking it was a glitch.
Then, a single line of text appeared in stark white letters, hanging in the middle of my vision like a judge's verdict:
"Manual Mode Activated."
My heart sank.
I spun around, hoping maybe I'd missed something, some hidden menu or prompt. But the silence remained.
No welcoming message.
No tutorial.
Just the vast world—and me, utterly alone.
I took a cautious step forward.
The grass bent beneath my boots, the world reacting naturally, as if I was truly there. But the absence of any system was maddening. Players around me bustled with visible auras, skill bars, and progress notifications floating above their heads. Their interfaces glowed like neon signs, guiding their every move.
I tried to access my "Character" menu.
Nothing.
No stats, no attributes, no experience points.
I felt an icy chill run down my spine.
Without a system, how was I supposed to survive?
To level up?
To grow stronger?
To even fight?
I remembered the countless hours I had spent preparing to play this game. Every review had praised the system's intelligence, its seamless integration with the player's mind, its ability to adapt and empower. It was a godsend for players who wanted the ultimate fantasy experience.
But I had none of that.
I was trapped in Manual Mode—an enigma no one else seemed to share.
At first, I thought it was a bug.
Maybe my headset malfunctioned.
Maybe the game had glitched during login.
Maybe the system would activate eventually.
But minutes passed. No interface appeared.
No prompt.
No quest notifications.
Only the raw, unfiltered game world.
I felt exposed, vulnerable.
A voice echoed in my mind—an automatic message that should have appeared but didn't:
"Welcome to Heaven's Gate Online. System initializing…"
But it never came.
Instead, there was only silence.
Nearby, other players ran past me, some shouting in chat about their system awakenings and new abilities.
"Just got my first skill! Auto-aim is crazy!"
"System rewards are insane this season!"
They didn't notice me. Or maybe they did and simply ignored me.
I was a ghost in a world that worshiped systems.
I tried to approach a player standing by a tree, hoping for some guidance.
"Hey, do you see my interface? Am I missing something?"
They looked at me, a flicker of confusion crossing their face.
"Dude, you don't have a system? That's… impossible."
They quickly logged off.
I was alone.
No one would help me.
No one believed me.
The feeling of isolation settled heavily on my shoulders.
I sat down on the soft grass, trying to steady my breathing.
I had prepared for this game for months.
I had studied cultivation methods in the real world, trained in martial arts, meditated for hours.
Could that help me here?
Could I cultivate power on my own, without the system?
It felt like madness.
But the world was beautiful—too beautiful—to waste.
I closed my eyes and tried to feel the energy around me.
The wind brushing against my skin.
The pulse of life in the grass and trees.
The silent rhythm of the earth beneath me.
Slowly, almost imperceptibly, I sensed something.
A faint warmth deep inside my chest.
A slow, steady pulse.
Nothing like the flashy power-ups others boasted, but real.
Raw.
Unrefined.
It was the seed of something ancient, something untouched by the system's code.
A path forgotten by all but a few.
"Manual Mode," they called it.
A mistake.
A glitch.
But maybe…
A blessing.
The sky darkened as evening approached.
The world's NPCs began their scripted routines.
Shops closed.
Villagers returned home.
The system players logged off, chatting excitedly about their achievements.
And I remained—alone under the stars, with nothing but my own instincts and will.
Tomorrow would be harder.
I knew the system would soon notice me.
Admins might intervene.
Players might hunt me as a threat to the order.
But I refused to run.
I would learn.
I would adapt.
I would cultivate.
Not through shortcuts.
Not through algorithms.
But through patience.
Through struggle.
Through awakening.
This was just the beginning.
The world might be ruled by systems.
But I had a secret.
A forgotten way.
And I would walk it alone.
Manual Mode Activated.
A silent rebellion.
A lone cultivator.
Against the code.