September 30th, 2065
Nusantara Realm, Kingdom of North Maluku, Morotai Archipelago region.
The clash of blades echoed across Dodola Island (one of the Island in Morotai Archipelago region), drowning out even the crashing waves. Runes carved into the black volcanic stone of the arena flared with crimson light as Avatars clashed in a storm of fire and steel.
Andrew Yuan stood at the center of it all, battered but unyielding, the Phoenix Pavilion's banner flapping defiantly above him. For years, he had carried his guildmates through countless wars across Nusantara. For years, he had fought to prove himself worthy of leadership. Today should have been the day his mentor entrusted him with the throne of Firmament Guild.
Instead, it was the day everything crumbled.
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Earlier that morning, on the high dais, Guild Leader Liang Shenlong watched, calm as ever. His silver hair swayed in the wind, his eyes filled with quiet pride as he regarded Andrew. Shenlong was the one who united 3 factions (The Dragon Pavilion, the Phoenix Pavilion, and the Tiger Pavilion) under his wings, and established Firmament Guild.
The guild known as one of the most prestigious early guilds formed a few months after the opening of the rifts. Their organization, discipline, and pavilion system make them stronger than most guilds, allowing them to dominate resources, Mana Crystal trade, and regional influence.
Shenlong had always been Andrew's guide, the one who had taught him not only how to fight, but how to lead. Andrew could almost see it, the moment Shenlong would call his name and announce him as successor.
But then, blood.
Two blades flashed. Shenlong's eyes widened in shock as steel pierced his avatar's core. The crowd gasped. And standing behind him, their weapons wet with betrayal, were Renjiro Kurogane, the Dragon Pavilion Master, and Magnus Rachman, the Tiger Pavilion Master.
"Guild Leader Shenlong was blind," Renjiro sneered, with his icy-like voice. "Entrusting Firmament to a weakling who clings to loyalty like a crutch."
Magnus' grin was feral, his axe dripping with the blood of their leader. "The Guild needs strength, not sentiment. And strength… belongs to us."
Andrew's roar shook the arena. "RENJIRO! MAGNUS!"
But his fury was met with silence, then the cold sting of betrayal closer than any enemy's blade, struck.
Behind him, his own Vice-Pavilion Master, Victor Han, drove a spear into his side. "Forgive me, Pavilion Master," Victor whispered, eyes glinting with greed. "The resources they offered… far outweighed loyalty."
Around them, Phoenix Pavilion members—once his comrades, once his family—turned their blades not on the enemy, but on Andrew and the few companions who still stood by him. Screams filled the air as his loyalists were cut down, their Avatar's bodies dissolving into streams of broken light.
Andrew's hands shook as he tightened his grip on his weapon. "You… all of you…!"
...
...
...
The circle closed in.
Dozens of blades.
A storm of spells.
His own Pavilion, the Dragon, the Tiger—everyone arrayed against him.
He fought like a man possessed, fire erupting with every strike, wings of flame blazing across the arena. His enemies faltered before his fury, but numbers told the truth. His Avatar's body burned, wounds tore deep, and multiple cracks can be found on his white golden armor.
Despair clawed at his soul.
Renjiro's blade pinned him down. Magnus' axe broke his defenses. Victor's spear pierced him again, driving him to his knees, as his Avatar's last bar of HP depleted,
As the final blow descended, Andrew's vision blurred—but not before it fixed upon the corpses of his loyal companions, their sacrifice become meaningless before such treachery.
He spat blood, his voice hoarse but filled with iron.
"If there is a chance… even the smallest… I will return. I will tear down your thrones. I will bury Firmament in flames."
The world shattered into darkness.
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[Neurolink System: "Your Avatar is dead, commencing disconnection sequence! Prepare to log out!"], the Neurolink System announced as Andrew's vision turn completely black.
As he preparing to open his eyes again, a massive headache hit his head with multiple red boxes of alerts containing "Error" message popped up.
"What is happening right now? Why I can't log out?", Andrew asked as the pain became more and more intensified. Just about when he was reaching his limit with the headache, a small dot of white light came to his vision and starting to spread until all he can see is a blinding white light.
When Andrew can finally opened his eyes again, the smell of salt and blood was gone. But, instead of emerging from the usual advanced capsule pod he used as a Pavilion Master, he found himself staring up at a ceiling that was out of place and at the same time hauntingly familiar.
Confused, he finally sat down just to find out that he was sitting at a small bed inside a 3x4 meters room. Nearby, the low hum of an old monitor filled his ears. Neon light flickered across the desk, illuminating a reflection he hadn't seen in decades. The reflection of a twenty-one-year-old young man.
He staggered up, clutching at his unscarred hands. His heart raced. On the screen, a headline repeated endlessly:
Historic Breakthrough! Rift Portals Open Across the World!
From New York to Tokyo, from London to Beijing, shimmering gateways had torn through the skies. Scientists declared it the "Gateway of Salvation." Through it, humanity glimpsed another world—a vast archipelago floating beneath emerald skies, where the air shimmered with power and the oceans glowed with untouched life. They called it NUSANTARA.
But beneath the excitement, a harsh truth was buried: humans could not survive in Nusantara directly.
The reason lay in the very air of that world. Nusantara's skies shimmered with an invisible force—Mana. It flowed through the air like oxygen, soaked into the seas like salt, and pulsed within the soil like blood. Every rock, every river, every breath was saturated with it. For the native races—elves, beastkin, orcs, and countless others—Mana was life itself, the source of magic and strength. They were born breathing it, wielding it, shaping it into spells and weapons with ease.
But for humans? Mana was poison. The density in Nusantara was so overwhelming that a human body would collapse within minutes, unable to process the torrent of energy. Muscles would convulse, organs rupture, blood boil—until death claimed them.
That was why the Neurolink System had been created. Instead of crossing over physically, humans would project their minds into artificially grown bodies—Avatars—engineered to withstand Mana. These Avatars could breathe, fight, and even channel Mana just like the natives, allowing humanity to walk among them.
And more than that, Avatars could grow stronger. By defeating monsters and absorbing their magic essence, an Avatar could evolve—translating that essence into experience and levels, just like a game. The stronger the Avatar, the more resources they could harvest, the deeper into Nusantara they could explore.
Andrew's gaze shifted to the date in the corner of the broadcast.
15 August 2045.
A laugh, raw and disbelieving, escaped his throat. "Two days… I still have two days before it begins."
Memories of betrayal seared through him—Shenlong's blood, Victor's spear, Renjiro's smirk, Magnus' axe. His fists clenched. This time, things would be different.
"This time, I would be ready." Andrew said to himself. And he would not face it alone.
Because out there, even before the rifts officially opened, his oldest friend—Elias Wardhana—was already preparing, already charting the unknown. Elias had always been the first to leap, the first to explore, the first to laugh in the face of danger.
Andrew's eyes burned with determination.
The phone buzzed on Andrew's desk, its cracked screen glowing with Elias Wardhana's name. For a long moment, Andrew only stared at it, his pulse thundering in his ears. Seeing that name alive again after twenty years felt surreal.
He exhaled and hit call.
"Yo, Andrew?" Elias's voice came through, light and teasing. "Don't tell me you're finally crawling out of that cave of yours."
Andrew swallowed hard. His chest tightened with something like relief. "Elias," he said, his tone steady despite the storm inside. "Meet me at the campus café tommorow at 10:00 AM. We need to talk."
A pause. Then Elias chuckled. "Sounds serious. Alright, I'll be there."
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August 16, 2045.
Campus café.
The café buzzed with tired students and the clinking of chipped ceramic cups. Posters of "Neurolink Launch – August 17, 2045" plastered the walls, their colors already faded. Outside, the city's smog painted the sunset a dull gray.
Andrew slid into the booth across from Elias. For a second, he just watched his friend — the messy hair, the restless grin, the fire in his eyes. Alive. Untouched by betrayal.
"You're staring at me like you just saw a ghost," Elias joked, sipping his coffee.
Andrew's lips twitched. If only you knew.
For a brief moment, memories bled into the present. He remembered Elias twenty years later — scarred, exhausted, yet always by his side. When resources were scarce, Elias had shared his last crystal with him. When betrayal shattered the Phoenix Pavilion, Elias was the one who fought until his body dissolved into mana sparks, refusing to abandon him. Even when it meant certain death, Elias had stood.
Loyal. Stubborn. Reckless.
Andrew clenched his fist under the table. I won't let that loyalty go to waste again.
He leaned forward. "Elias, listen. Don't sign with Ironveil Workshop."
Elias blinked. "What? How do you—? That's exactly what I was planning to do. It's the only way we can afford Avatars and helms. Thirteen thousand credits, Andrew. Three thousands for the basic Neurolink helm, and another ten thousands for the Avatar's core. We don't have that kind of money."
"I know," Andrew said firmly. "But Ironveil will chain you. Ninety percent of everything you earn belongs to them. You'll be nothing more than their pawn."
Andrew's jaw tightened. Ironveil. He remembered them. How they grew, how they schemed, how they eventually became a thorn in his Pavilion's side. They weren't the worst enemy he had faced, but they had been the first stepping stone in a long, bloody path.
Ironveil had been a name whispered in the early days—small, hungry, trying to buy a position in the new order. He'd seen how such workshops could grow by preying on the desperate. In his previous life, he'd watched many promising people become little more than hired hands
Elias frowned. "Then what? We just… give up? Watch everyone else enter Nusantara while we rot here?"
Andrew's eyes burned with certainty. "No. There's another way. The government trial program. They're lending helmets and trial Avatars to students. Two weeks. Limited. But enough."
Elias narrowed his eyes. "Two weeks? If we don't make it, they'll yank our Avatars out. And then what? We're back to zero."
"Trust me," Andrew said, his voice steady, carrying the weight of two decades. "Two weeks are all I need. All we need. I'll solve the money problem. I swear it."
For a moment, Elias studied him. Then, slowly, a grin spread across his face. "God, you sound like you're about to start a revolution."
Andrew smiled faintly. "Maybe I am."
Elias raised his cup, eyes gleaming with mischief. "Fine. To the Land of the Thousand Islands. May it make kings of us—or fools with good stories."
Andrew clinked his mug against Elias's. His voice was low, but unyielding. "No. This time, it will make us legends."
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The next day, they went straight to Student Services, where an administrator handed them two battered government-issued Neurolink Helms.
"Trial units," the woman warned. "Limited upgrades. Two weeks access only. After that, the connection cuts."
Andrew signed the forms without hesitation. Elias followed, grumbling under his breath.
Back at their dormitory, the two helmets sat waiting on their desks. The glow of the rift shimmered faintly on the horizon outside their window. The air was electric.
Elias ran a hand through his hair. "So… this is it, huh?"
Andrew picked up his helm, the visor gleaming in the dim light. His hands trembled, not with fear — but anticipation.
"Yes," he whispered, slipping it on.
The Neurolink hummed to life. Mana signals surged through the device, syncing consciousness with the Avatar core that awaited on the other side.
Andrew closed his eyes.
"Nusantara… here I come."