Kael's breath caught in his throat as a wave of white light surged over him.
Not real light—system light. Artificial. Calming. The kind that played before every logout in Divine Wake.
His character's vitals ticked upward—HP bar restoring, debuffs vanishing, fatigue wiped like chalk off a board.
"Gods," Kael muttered. "If I had the credits for a premium pod, I could stay inside for a whole week. No more three-day logout cycles."
A dull laugh escaped him. The glow faded. He blinked up at the blank system ceiling—white and digital, artificial serenity. Then, instinctively, he raised his hand and opened the logout menu.
He sighed at the sight. HP full. All status effects cleared.
So this is what perfection looks like, he thought.
Then he pressed the Logout button.
The white faded to black.
He closed his eyes.
"One… two… three…"
He always counted his way back to reality. Something about the routine kept the neural disconnect clean. He'd never made it past sixty before waking up.
"Twenty-nine, thirty…"
Something was wrong.
"Thirty-three…"
His senses were back. Too soon.
He could feel his arms. The mattress. Warmth on his face—sunlight?
No. That wasn't right.
Kael's apartment was underground, buried five levels below the slums of Southpoint. No light reached those walls. Just mold, mold, and more mold.
And this wasn't his body.
His muscles didn't ache. His joints didn't crack like rusted pistons. His fingers flexed with unnatural smoothness—like his avatar in-game.
Still inside?
He opened his eyes.
He was lying on a massive canopy bed, draped in red-gold curtains. Sunlight poured through a stained-glass window to his left, scattering colors across the stone floor. The ceiling above was domed, trimmed with silver leaf, and at the center hung a massive chandelier—unlit, but heavy with crystal.
He bolted upright.
The room was noble. Regal. Medieval.
There was no pod. No wires. No sterile chrome walls or blinking system lights.
Just—opulence.
A polished desk sat in the corner, surrounded by hand-bound leather tomes. A fireplace lay cold and empty. The entire place looked like a set piece from Divine Wake.
"What the hell…"
A knock at the door made him jump.
"Baron Lister? Are you awake?"
Baron?
Kael froze.
The voice was female—young, nervous.
"Uh…" he croaked, his voice deeper than usual. It wasn't his voice. It was smoother. Stronger.
Before he could gather his thoughts, the door creaked open and a maid stepped inside. She froze as she saw him sitting up.
Then she dropped to her knees.
"My lord! Forgive me—I didn't mean to disturb you! But Lady Anna is downstairs. She's been waiting."
Kael stared at her. She looked real. Not pixelated. Not AI-generated.
She was breathing hard from nerves. Her dress was stitched by hand. Her eyes darted up, then down, then up again.
This was real.
This was real?
"Tell her… I'll be down shortly."
The maid blinked in relief, bobbed her head, and backed out the door, shutting it softly behind her.
Kael sat in silence.
Baron. Anna. Soft sheets. A perfect body that didn't creak when he moved.
This wasn't Earth.
This wasn't the game either.
His hands moved on instinct. He pulled his fingers apart, then swiped to the left in the air—
It appeared.
[Name: Lister Merrick]
[Age: 29 / 113]
[Class: Warrior (Martial Path)]
[Level: 17 (XP: 31 / 17,000)]
[Health: 732 / 732]
[Stamina: 431 / 431]
[Attributes]
STR: 13 | VIT: 12 | INT: 13 | AGI: 11
[Skills]
Merrick Blade Style (Rare) – Lv. 3
→ Precise melee strikes: 282–354 damage based on STR
Merrick Breathing Technique (Passive, Unranked) – Lv. 2
→ Permanent STR +2
[Overall Rating: F-Rank]
[EXP: 1031]
Kael's blood ran cold.
This was his old character build. The same interface. The same skills he'd ground in Divine Wake for years.
But this wasn't the game.
And there was no logout button.
He flicked through menus in a panic. Settings. System. Interface.
Nothing.
No Disconnect. No Return to Real World. No network connection. No pod diagnostics.
Nothing.
He wasn't in the game.
He was inside it.
A cold sweat broke across his back.
"Baron Lister?"
The maid's voice called again through the door.
"Lady Anna insists."
Kael stood, legs moving without thought. They were strong. Too strong. He didn't stumble. He didn't sway. His balance was flawless. It felt like piloting a dream.
He dressed in a clean tunic laid out beside the bed and descended the stairs.
—
The main hall of the estate looked like something out of a fantasy film: stone arches, red carpets, silver candleholders, and a sitting room filled with afternoon light.
At its center, a woman in white waited with a teacup in hand.
She was stunning—flawless, even. Tall, sculpted features, golden hair over bare shoulders, and eyes like chipped sapphire. But Kael barely reacted. After years of Divine Wake, where every player sculpted their avatars like demigods, beauty had long since lost its edge.
What stunned him was the familiarity.
She looked like an NPC he used to see in early-game missions. A side character. One of those minor nobles who gave you a quest, flirted a little, and disappeared.
Except now she was sitting in his house, acting like he mattered.
"Lord Lister," she said, her tone clipped, professional. "You kept me waiting."
Kael blinked. "You're… Anna?"
She tilted her head, frowning. "Of course. Did you hit your head again?"
That told him enough.
She knew him.
Or thought she did.
Which meant this Lister—the body he was in—was known to her.
"I apologize. I had a… strange night."
She huffed and reached into a small satchel. "I'm not here to discuss your nights. My father—Viscount Ambret—sent this."
She placed a wooden box on the table and pushed it toward him.
Kael reached for it—then stopped.
Anna had flinched.
Just a twitch. A pull of her fingers away from the box. But her face twisted for a half-second—disgust, maybe. Revulsion.
Then she masked it with a smile.
Kael withdrew his hand slowly.
"What's in the box?"
"Something to help you win the duel."
"Duel?"
She arched an eyebrow. "You're joking."
"I'm not."
"You challenged Quentin yesterday. Son of Duke Weyland. Ring any bells?"
Kael's thoughts spiraled. A duel? Against a duke's son?
He looked at Anna again, and her expression softened—for a moment. Then hardened again.
"You really don't remember?"
He didn't.
But the name Quentin struck something deep in the system. A memory flashed—Quentin Weyland, one of the top-tier PvP bosses in the second act of Divine Wake. He was brutal. Precision-based. Impossible to beat under Level 30.
Kael's body—Lister's—was Level 17.
And the duel was already set.
And Anna…
She studied him differently now. Her gaze had shifted from disdain to suspicion.
"Odd," she murmured. "You don't look at me the way you used to. Where's your usual… appetite?"
Kael stared at her.
Anna stood. Her gown swept behind her as she walked to the door. "Train hard, Lister. The duke will be watching. So will my father. So will I."
And then she was gone.
Leaving only the box on the table.
And a man who no longer belonged to the world he'd just inherited.