Martin stumbled into his tiny studio, looking like he'd been hit by a truck. He yanked his tie loose, tossed it onto a chair with his briefcase, and face-planted onto the bed.
I need a win. I need a rush. I need someone to look at me like I matter.
Back in school, trouble came easy. Respect did too. Now he just got clients, deadlines, and silence.
Too many clients today… and tomorrow's supposed to be even worse. I'm dead.
Working from early morning to late evening was the price of going independent. Freedom, apparently, meant a one-room studio and no time to live in it.
Martin rolled onto his back and shut his eyes.
A knock hit his door.
"It's Eagle Delivery Services! I'm so sorry for being so late! I'm new at this!" a young voice called.
Prank? Or worse, someone casing the place?
He crept to the door and peered through the peephole.
A delivery guy stood there with a package. No hesitation, no lingering, just the scratch of a pen as he wrote something on the label and left it by the door.
When the kid disappeared down the hall, Martin cracked the door open and picked the package up.
I didn't order anything… Mom?
Sure enough, her name was on it.
He carried it inside and set it on the table.
Homemade food would save me right now.
He paused, then opened social media anyway.
It felt like a slap.
Upperclassmen: married.
Peers: engaged, posting rings and venues.
Some even had two kids.
Meanwhile, Martin was alone. Just… alone.
Back then, a cigarette and cheap booze could make everything feel simpler. Now even that was out of reach.
Now he couldn't even afford a pack of cigarettes.
He exhaled through his nose, set the phone down, and finally tore into the package.
Instead of containers, he found a letter resting on top of a sleek virtual reality headset.
Mom, what are you cooking?
He unfolded the note.
You're still so stubborn about not coming back home! You're working way too much and you don't even have a girlfriend yet! I heard from the neighbors that there's some virtual reality game coming online soon, or maybe already online! Go play it and mingle with healers your age! I heard healers are mostly nice girls!
Martin's lips flattened into a straight line. So did his eyes.
He'd heard about immersive virtual reality plenty of times. A groundbreaking concept: step into another world in your own body and pull off feats impossible in real life, like being reborn into a fantasy realm. The ads were everywhere. You couldn't escape them.
Really, Mom… I mean… I did play a lot of games back then. I can try it for an hour, at least. It shouldn't mess up my sleep schedule.
And I do need something to unwind. Badly.
He fished out his phone and checked the game's website.
Status: ONLINE for 12 hours.
His eyes widened.
Twelve hours meant people were already in. Already leveling. Already mapping the early routes, testing what was broken, grabbing first-day advantages. In a launch window like this, you either rode the wave, or got dragged under it.
Heat flared in Martin's chest. Of course he'd show up late.
Twelve hours? Yeah, no. I'm not starting behind.
His body moved anyway, faster than it had all day.
Damn. Shower, food, then I'm diving in.
With his short hair still damp, Martin heated up his instant meal. While it cooled, he put on a random livestream.
On screen, a beautiful actress beamed at an excited crowd. Clips of her "epic" scenes played beside a flood of fan comments.
The chat flew by. One line kept popping up: "She's playing a villainess with dual swords next!"
"You can be the same! Buy a virtual reality headset today and hop into Monster Hunter Academy Online today!" she said, dazzling and polished.
Martin snorted. "She flashes her smile, says a few words, and earns more than I'll make in my entire life. Life's not fair."
He wasn't big on celebrities.
Petty jealousy, sure, but it still stung.
He finished eating.
All right. One hour.
Yeah, sure.
He put the headset on.
The padding sealed around his face, shutting out the room like a door closing. The straps tightened with a soft pull, and suddenly the air felt warmer, his own breathing louder.
For a second, he just sat there, listening to the quiet. No client calls. No neighbors. No traffic. Just his heartbeat and the faint hum of the device.
Okay. Don't get hyped.
The screen went dark.
Then a thin line of light cut across the black, widening until it filled his vision. The familiar weight of his body faded, like someone had turned down the volume on gravity. The last thing he felt was his fingers flexing on instinct, like he was bracing for a fall.
Come on. Let me log in already.
—
[Welcome to Monster Hunter Academy Online!]
[Please state your age.]
[Choose your nickname and your class.]
[Once you're done, you will be randomly assigned to one of the hunter academies of the vast Mythrunnim World!]
Martin blinked into an old-fashioned wooden room. It was packed with floating screens, dozens of them, hovering at different heights, like a dozen open tabs in the air.
Directly in front of him was a panel with a keyboard for his age and name.
Other screens displayed classes, weapons, and starting skills.
[Guardian (Sword and Shield): frontline defender. Holds the line, absorbs enemy skills, and keeps the team safe.]
[Duelist (Sword or Daggers): melee damage dealer. Outplays with movement, stays alive on the frontline, and pressures targets hard.]
[Ranger (Longbow): long-range threat with high single-target kill potential. Controls distance, keeps danger off fragile teammates, and punishes from afar.]
[Mage (Staff): AoE magic specialist. Clears mobs and makes sure no one gets close.]
[Oracle (Tome): healer and support. Heals and buffs allies to keep the party standing until the fight is over.]
Simple and straightforward, just like the marketing promised.
[Your classes may evolve depending on your acquired skills, weapons, and experience.]
So there was an evolution system, too.
Okay. Required fields first.
[Age: 24]
[Nickname: Emperoar]
Oh. The old one's available. I used that a lot back in the day.
He scanned the class screens again, slower this time.
Guardian meant standing up front and taking hits so everyone else could breathe. Duelist looked like pure aggression. Ranger was distance and patience. Mage was raw power, as long as you didn't let anything touch you.
Then his eyes flicked to Oracle, and he could practically hear his mom's voice again.
Mingle with healers.
Not be a healer. Party with them.
It was ridiculous… but not completely. Support players always had their pick of parties. They stuck with the groups that looked like they could actually win, the ones worth keeping alive.
And a lot of people did pick support. If his mom was right about who those players usually were, then hanging around healers meant hanging around girls his age.
Martin clicked his tongue.
He wasn't going to pick Oracle just because his mom said so. If he was going to win, he needed a class that made parties want him, and one that worked well with healers.
Am I really taking Mom's advice?
Something that stayed close to the fight. Something that set the pace and forced enemies to look his way, the kind of role that always needed support and always got it.
If he played it right, healers would stick around. And if more than one wanted the same party slot, well… that was its own kind of advantage.
His pulse ticked up.
His finger hovered over the options.
Let's go with—