By the middle of the 21st century, Earth was suffocating.
The fossil reserves were gone. The uranium silos lay empty. Even the grand projects of solar arrays and wind towers proved too frail against the endless hunger of billions. Energy blackouts became the norm. Nations once called superpowers fractured, cities withered, and hunger stalked the globe. Humanity had reached the precipice of its own ruin.
But in the midst of despair, discovery struck.
It began with a rift. A trembling seam in the fabric of space, detected by accident in the Pacific skies, where no law of physics should have allowed such a thing to exist. Scientists from every corner of the world gathered. The phenomenon was not a black hole, not radiation, but something stranger — a bridge.
Beyond the veil lay another realm.
They called it Nusantara — The Land of the Thousand Islands.
An endless archipelago stretched across turquoise seas, dotted with towering cliffs, deep jungles, and ancient ruins. More wondrous still, the very air shimmered with mana — the raw essence of energy, saturating soil, water, and sky. In places of density, the mana crystallized into radiant shards: Mana Crystals. Each shard pulsed with an energy output far surpassing anything Earth had ever known. With them, humanity could power cities, starships, entire nations — cleanly, endlessly.
But paradise was never without its guardians.
Nusantara was not empty. Beasts born of mana prowled its forests and seas — colossal monsters, twisted abominations, and predators unknown to Earth's history. And among them, intelligent races thrived:
The long-lived Elves, weaving mana into bow and spell.
The towering Orcs, strength incarnate, their clans bound by blood oaths.
The enigmatic High Humans, kin yet apart, masters of sword and sorcery.
And many more — scaled tribes that worshipped the sea, winged folk said to ride the wind, and shadow-born kin who whispered in forgotten ruins.
These were the Native Resident Characters (NRCs), the people of Nusantara. They had built walled cities, trade networks, and kingdoms upon the islands, waging endless war against monsters to carve safe havens for their kind. To them, mana was life, faith, and weapon.
Humanity could not walk this new world as they were. The air itself resisted them — flesh burned, lungs failed, blood sickened. The rift rejected Earth-born bodies. And so, out of desperation, science birthed a solution: the Avatar Project.
Through living vessels grown from mana-conductive bio-frames, humans could step across indirectly. Linked through the Neurolink System, a pilot on Earth could inhabit an Avatar body in Nusantara — breathing its air, wielding its weapons, channeling its mana. An Avatar could live among the NRC, fight beside them, and harvest the crystals that Earth so desperately needed.
It was not without risk. The monsters killed Avatars as easily as they did natives. And death in Nusantara tore deep scars into the human psyche. Yet the reward was greater than any peril. For every crystal brought back, nations could rise from the ashes.
Thus began the great race. Governments, corporations, and would-be guilds all hurled themselves into Nusantara. Some sought survival. Some sought riches. Some sought empires.
And among the thousands preparing to cross, two names would soon echo across the Thousand Islands—
not as kings, nor as fools, but as legends.