Unlike many other cities in the world, Sarakotsa was no different — it, too, was drowning in traffic. Cars screeched along the roads, and people rushed toward their destinations: some to work, others to meetings. Yet beneath the glittering lights of tall buildings lay narrow, hidden alleys. In those alleys, lives were often lost — unseen, unheard by anyone.
At the end of one such street, beneath the shadow of towering structures, there was a sealed, pitch-black corner. And in that corner stood a man. He was tall, wearing a dark coat with a black collar that hung down to his knees. Black trousers peeked from beneath the coat, making his presence appear even harsher. His hands were gloved in black leather, his face framed by a neatly kept, dense black beard. His hair was combed back with strict discipline, dark as night. His deep brown eyes observed the surroundings with a ruthless chill.
Slowly, he raised his left hand. A golden wristwatch gleamed on his wrist. His eyes fixed on the numbers for a moment.
— "Ten forty-two… Took a little longer than I thought," he muttered under his breath.
He picked up a black suitcase that had been leaning against the wall. A short distance away, beside rusted metal trash bins, a body lay sprawled on the ground. A person who, just moments ago, had been alive — now nothing but cold and still.
— "The money will be enough," he said, pressing a button on the watch.
A strange, electronic voice came from the device:
— "As instructed, the job is done. Target eliminated. Very well, Dexter, you can leave now. We'll restore the street cameras to their original state."
Dexter gave a rough smirk.
— "Fine. Transmission over."
He pressed another button, and the watch went silent. Masking his face with an icy calm, he gripped the suitcase and turned away.
But… suddenly, at the very end of the street, something strange occurred. From the wall, a bluish glow began to spread. At first, it was no more than a flicker of lightning, then it grew larger and larger, until it seemed to swallow the entire wall. Dexter froze, cautious surprise etched on his face.
In the center of the wall appeared a shimmering, circular portal — like rippling liquid. It pulsed like waves on water. The glow was so intense that it lit up the darkness, as though night had been replaced by a blue dawn.
Dexter's gloved fingers clenched tighter around the suitcase handle. He stepped back cautiously, his eyes fixed on the circle. Then, without warning, a dark silhouette emerged from within. Its form was vague, distorted, hardly human.
Dexter reached for his pistol — but before he could draw it, the figure lunged forward, dragging him inside with a force that felt alive. For a brief moment, the entire street was engulfed in blinding light.
Then silence. Only the distant, everyday clamor of Sarakotsa's traffic could be heard once again…
A strange voice echoed in his ears:
— Welcome, First Player.
Dexter lay unconscious for a while. His breathing was heavy, his fists clenched tight. In his left hand, the black suitcase was still gripped firmly, as if something inside prevented him from ever letting it go.
Slowly, he regained his senses and pushed his heavy body upright. His black coat was covered in dust, pale gray particles falling from his shoulders. As he brushed his clothes clean, he looked around—then nearly fainted.
This place was nothing like the ordinary street he had expected. It resembled a dark shaft. On either side rose tall black walls, at least four meters high. Before him stretched a long, narrow corridor, vanishing into darkness just twenty steps ahead. The air was thick, dusty, suffocating—it was hard to breathe.
Dexter shook his head.
— "Damn it… what is this place?"
Suddenly, before his eyes, a bluish translucent screen appeared, shimmering in midair. Across it, in large letters, glowed the words:
"Welcome, First Player."
Dexter froze in shock. He stepped back, reaching his hands toward the screen. But it didn't move away—it kept its distance constant, as though tethered to him.
— "What is this? An illusion?" he muttered.
Suspiciously, he stretched out his hand to touch the surface of the screen. At that instant, a second, larger blue panel flashed to life beside it. Lines of text flickered across it:
"First Player.
Would you like to check all received gifts and view your statistics?"
In the corner, two glowing options appeared:
[YES] — green, [NO] — red.
Dexter's brows furrowed.
— "…What the hell is this? A computer game?" He suddenly recalled his younger brother—he had seen screens like this when his brother played at the computer. But here, he was standing, with his real body!
Anger flared. Dexter spun around and slammed his fists against the black wall. The wall rattled with the impact, sending down showers of dust.
— "Hey! Enough with the jokes! Charley! Carlos! I'm sick of your toys!" he shouted, striking the wall again. "Whoever you are—come out and talk!"
But instead of an answer, a sharp whistling cut through the air. Dexter lifted his head just as an arrow shot from the darkness, its tip sharpened stone, its shaft wooden.
The arrow struck the wall beside him with force. It failed to pierce the hard surface and clattered to the ground, splintering into fragments of wood.
— "Damn it, what now?" Dexter muttered as he turned around.
Behind him stood a skeleton. Its entire body was made of stark white bones, blue flames flickering in its hollow eye sockets. In its hand was a simple wooden bow. The skeleton wasn't frozen in place — it moved like a living creature, stalking its prey.
Dexter's brows knitted.
— "What kind of joke is this…?"
The skeleton gave no reply. It pulled its bowstring taut and released another arrow. With a sharp hiss, it cut through the air. Dexter leapt to the side just in time. The arrow struck the wall, splintering into pieces.
— "Damn it!" he growled through clenched teeth. He dropped the black suitcase to the ground and quickly flipped it open.
Inside lay a collection of items: documents, and beneath them, Dexter's true arsenal. A silver Desert Eagle, a black USP pistol, a special suppressor, five magazines for each, and four short, razor-edged knives. Without hesitation, Dexter snatched up the USP and screwed the suppressor onto its barrel. Just as he slid in a magazine, another arrow whistled past — grazing so close it nearly nicked his neck.
In a low whisper, Dexter muttered:
— "Now it's my turn."
He raised the gun, aiming straight at the skeleton's skull, finger pressing the trigger — but at that very moment, the blue screen appeared again.
"Would you like to use Intermediate Mana Rounds?"
At the bottom: [YES] (green) / [NO] (red).
Dexter's expression twisted into a furious grin.
— "This has to be a joke. So it isn't over yet…"
Another arrow whizzed past his ear with a sharp fsshhht. Dexter barely dodged in time.
— "Fine! I'll check it later. For now… yes!" he snapped, pressing the green option.
In an instant, the pistol in his hand changed, as if transformed into another weapon entirely. Dexter squeezed the trigger.
TFFSSHHHHT!
It wasn't an ordinary bullet. A bright yellow blast shot out, striking the skeleton's skull. The bony head exploded within its hollow shell, bursting into fragments that scattered like dust in the air. The remaining bones clattered to the ground in a heap.
For a moment, Dexter stood frozen.
— "…What the hell was that?" he muttered, staring at his gun.
Cautiously, he approached the skeleton's remains. They weren't illusions, but real bones. The wooden bow still lay beside them. Under his breath, Dexter grumbled:
— "So this isn't some prank. This is real."
He returned to the suitcase. But then, once again, the blue screen appeared.
"First Player. Would you like to claim all available gifts?"
Below: [YES] / [NO].
Dexter's eyes narrowed. For a moment, he hesitated. But remembering what had just happened — and how real the skeleton had been — curiosity overcame doubt. He pressed [YES].
Instantly, a series of windows appeared in succession:
"Congratulations! You have become the First Player."
Calculating bonuses…
> USP (Grade A Weapon)
• Attack Power: +17
• Accuracy: +13
• Special: Silent Strike — deals hidden damage to the target.
• Designated as a personal weapon.
Coat (Grade B Armor)
• Physical Defense: +20
• Magic Defense: +20
• Mana Recovery: +2
• Special: Camouflage (Grade B) — grants temporary invisibility.
Trousers (Grade B Armor)
• Defense: +18
Footwear (Grade B Armor)
• Speed: +19
• Special: Silent Step (Grade C) — movement makes no sound.
Golden Watch (Grade A)
• Mana: +26
• Magic: +27
Suitcase (Grade B)
• Can hold far more items than its appearance suggests.
Title: First Player Acquired
• Effect: All stats increased by +17%.
Dexter's eyes widened. Watching the endless stream of glowing panels, he stood stunned in disbelief.
— "This… this can't be real…" he whispered.