The first thing Akihiro noticed was not the sight of towering trees, nor the feel of grass beneath his palms.
It was the smell.
It wasn't the sterile tang of solder and fried circuits, nor the sweet chemical haze of energy drinks littered across his desk. This was outside. Damp earth, moss, leaves heavy with dew. Beneath it, something sharper, metallic—like the air moments after a lightning strike.
He coughed and drew another breath. His lungs didn't burn. His heartbeat thundered in his chest, not sluggish and weak as in his real body, but steady. Strong.
I feel… powerful.
Groaning, Akihiro pushed himself upright. His hands sank into soil—rough, cool. A soft wind brushed against his face, carrying strange cries overhead. Birds, he thought—until he looked up.
Jewel-feathered creatures darted between branches, their wings leaving faint trails of light like strokes of paint across the canopy.
His heart skipped.
This… isn't my lab.
Dizzy, he stumbled to a nearby pond glittering faintly in the shade. He leaned over, and what he saw made his breath catch.
A young man gazed back.
Sharp gray eyes. Short black messy hair, silver streaks glinting faintly. Skin healthy, posture strong. Clothes simple: leather chestpiece, linen undershirt, boots fit for travel. A short dagger hung at his hip.
"…Raven."
The word left his lips like a confession. His test avatar. The face he'd stared at countless times during debugging. The default male protagonist of Celestial Conquest.
His hands trembled as he splashed water onto his face. The reflection rippled—yet returned the same. Not Akihiro Kurogane, the burned-out programmer, but Raven, the adventurer.
This wasn't VR or code.
It was real.
Hours slipped by as Raven explored through forest, his senses being overwhelmed.
The smell of sap from a broken branch. The cool give of moss underfoot. Even the air shimmered faintly when he exhaled, as though invisible threads of energy were woven into the very world.
Mana and aura. Two words surfaced in his mind. Some of the foundations of power in this world.
In Celestial Conquest, players chose a path: the Sword, which relied on aura and discipline, or Magic, which channeled mana and intellect. Most humans in this world followed one or the other.
But… there were more, weren't there?
The thought tugged at him, vague and half-forgotten. He had written more. Designed more. Systems hidden deeper than most players would ever know.
He shook his head, pushing the thought aside. No. That can wait. For now, I need to survive.
A rustle snapped him from his thoughts.
Dry leaves. A whimper followed by a cry of pain.
He sprinted toward the sound. Branches whipped against his arms, roots snagged his boots, but he didn't falter. His chest ached with urgency, he couldn't explain.
The trees broke into a clearing—and Raven's stomach dropped.
A small dragon pup lay thrashing in a crude iron trap, one wing crushed beneath its jaws. Silver scales shimmered faintly through blood, and sparks of fire sputtered uselessly from its tiny maw.
"…Zyra-chan."
The name slipped out before he could stop it.
The dragon hissed, eyes glowing molten gold. A sputter of flame forced Raven to duck.
"I won't hurt you!" Raven raised his hands. "Easy! I promise."
But Zyra-chan only snarled louder, tail lashing, breath shallow. She didn't trust him—and why should she? Dragons hated humans. Mainly for their greed and selfishness. He had designed them that way.
His eyes fell to the trap. Recognition hit him like a hammer. This was one of his own designs—an early hunting device meant to punish greedy players. Back then it was just code. But now… it was ripping through living flesh.
Raven's jaw clenched. This pain is my fault.
He knelt beside the trap. Blood slicked the metal, hot against his palms. He pulled once, twice, but nothing. The edges tore his hands open, crimson blood dripping freely.
Zyra's eyes narrowed. Fire built again in her throat.
"Do it, then," Raven whispered. "Burn me if you have to. But I won't stop."
With a roar, he strained, muscles screaming. The trap groaned, hinges shrieking.
Then—SNAP.
The iron jaws split. Zyra tumbled free, her wing folding against her side.
Raven collapsed, gasping, his hands shredded.
Then fire lanced up his arm.
"Gah—!"
He grabbed his forearm as glowing lines etched themselves into his skin. Scales, flames, and a dragon's silhouette.
Zyra froze. Limping forward, she pressed her snout against his chest, trembling easing as though soothed by the bond.
"…Zyra-chan…" His voice cracked.
The pup chirped weakly, sparks flickering harmlessly this time.
Raven stared at his arm, trembling. A bond… already? With a dragon at that?
No one in this world would believe it.
But Zyra believed.
That night, Raven built a small fire. His fumbling hands struck sparks with sticks until flames showed. Zyra curled at his side, scales warm against him, her breaths slow and soft.
Twin moons rose—one silver, one crimson. Raven gazed at them, their gleam catching his reflection in the hilt of his sword.
I thought I understood this world. But this isn't a game anymore.
He flexed his hand, the dragon mark pulsing faintly.
If Sword and Magic are real… what else lies hidden?
His lips twisted into a determined grin.
"I'll become more than a player. I'll become the strongest in this world... I will have to."
Zyra nudged his shoulder with a soft chirp, purring faintly.
And then, a roar split the night.
Deep. Ancient. Enough to shake the ground beneath them.
Zyra stiffened, her tiny body bristling.
Far beyond the trees, a massive silhouette rose, wings blotting out the moons.
Raven's hand gripped the dagger at his hip, throat dry. But his eyes blazed with fire.
So this is the world I made. Alive. Breathing. Hungry. Waiting for me to prove myself.
The night swallowed his whisper.
"I'll be ready."