Haruto stepped out of the grand gates into the cool night air, wandering aimlessly through the neon-lit streets as his mind raced. As he walked, he suddenly noticed a strange sensation rippling through his body—his injuries were healing at an accelerated rate, closing the wounds and knitting the bruised flesh back together. But instead of relief, a bitter, blinding fury consumed him.
He had been humiliated. Trampled, beaten, and discarded like a common pest over and over again. Nothing like this had ever happened to him before.
In his past life, he had been a gamer—lazy and detached from the real world, someone who preferred virtual challenges over real-world conflict. But even then, he had never taken this level of disrespect lying down.
Gritting his teeth, Haruto stared into the dark, glittering expanse of the city, a dark promise hardening in his chest. I will genuinely destroy every single one of you. You're all having so much fun watching me fall, aren't you? Just wait. I'm going to show you your true place. I'll make every last one of you beg me for mercy—and I'll stand there and laugh.
A cold realization flickered in his mind. If this is just some sick prank, you're all dead. But if this is real... if this world is real... then I'm going to tear these upper-class elites down to the studs and wreck everything they've built.
As he walked past the district borders, a wave of intense hunger hit his stomach, reminding him of how empty he was. Pausing by a public bulletin board, a wave of disgust washed over him as he looked at the flashing holographic ads.
Then, his eyes caught a bold, flickering poster for an underground street-wrestling circuit.
The advertisement featured a massive, eight-foot-tall brute of a fighter who had been tearing through opponents left and right, leaving a trail of bruised challengers in his wake. Spectators were placing bets, and the listed cash prize for anyone who could actually step into the ring and defeat the giant was 300 Credits.
Haruto's stomach growled violently, but a sharp, ironic memory flashed in his head—Daisy's stern, analytical warning echoing from back in the simulation days, reminding him of combat fundamentals that could help him exploit a giant's blind spots.
A twisted smirk broke across Haruto's face.
"When you have nothing left to lose," Haruto whispered, a dangerous glint in his eye as he stared at the prize money, "you don't just fight to win. You fight for the whole damn world."
Letting out a sharp, defiant laugh, he turned his steps toward the underground arena.
The promoter let out a booming, arrogant laugh, slapping his knee. "Alright, boys! Meet our newest free slave, Echo!"
Haruto didn't flinch. He caught the cheap paper ticket tossed his way, turned on his heel, and marched straight toward the roaring tunnel leading to the fighting pit.
Back at the registration desk, an assistant leaned over to the promoter, looking uneasy. "Hey... are you sure about this? We basically just got a free slave, sure, but what's stopping him from running away or just getting himself killed in the first ten seconds?"
The promoter smirked, blowing a ring of smoke into the air. "Kid didn't have a single credit to his name, but he was starving for a fight. He's cornered, desperate, and trapped. A desperate man will either fight like a demon or die trying—either way, he's too proud or too broke to run away with nothing."
Just then, the arena's overhead speakers crackled to life, the announcer's voice booming over the deafening roar of the bloodthirsty crowd.
"Ladies and gentlemen! For our special late-night unscheduled match... give it up for our newest challenger stepping into the pit... ECHO!"
As the name echoed across the packed stadium, the crowd erupted into a mix of jeers, laughs, and boos.
Haruto stepped out from the dim tunnel into the blinding glare of the stadium lights. Standing across the center of the reinforced steel cage was his opponent: Megatooth, a towering, seven-foot-tall brute of muscle and scarred flesh, standing well over a foot taller than Haruto.
Megatooth cracked his massive knuckles, stepping forward with a vile grin that revealed rows of jagged, yellowed teeth. As he drew closer, a wave of stench hit the air.
Haruto wrinkled his nose beneath his mask, taking a subtle step back in sheer disgust. Ew... what is that ungodly smell? Does this guy even know what a bar of soap is?
Haruto's mind raced as he recalled the fine print printed on the back of his entry ticket. This was categorized as an entry-level match, but the underground circuit operated on a brutal, tiered progression system. Winning this initial bout paid out 300 credits, but clearing subsequent tiers opened the door all the way to Level 2—and eventually up to Level 10, where champions walked away with millions.
It was entirely illegal, raw, unhinged combat where almost anything went, but the rules were absolute: if you lost here, you didn't just walk away empty-handed; you belonged to the house as a slave. To survive, he had to win. Period.
DING!
The starting bell echoed through the cage, signaling the start of the match.
Megatooth let out a ferocious roar, lunging forward with blinding aggression. But his movements were heavy, clumsy, and sluggish. Haruto sidestepped effortlessly, keeping his guard locked tight and denying the giant a single opening. He watched every wild, telegraphed swing with clinical detachment.
As Megatooth threw a massive, sweeping right hook that missed by a mile, Haruto moved with lethal precision. In a flash, he scrambled up the giant's frame, vaulted onto his broad shoulders, and hooked his legs tight around Megatooth's thick neck. With a sharp, powerful twist of his entire body, Haruto leveraged his weight and snapped the giant's momentum downward.
CRACK!
Megatooth hit the canvas hard, pinned instantly under a devastating chokehold. Gasping for air with his eyes bulging, the seven-foot brute desperately patted the mat, choking out the words, "I-I yield! I'm done, I lost! Please!"
Silence stunned the arena for a split second before the crowd erupted into angry boos and catcalls, furious at the sudden upset.
The referee stepped into the center of the ring, raising a hand. "Winner... Echo!"
Haruto hopped off the defeated giant, letting out a quiet, satisfied breath. Piece of cake.
Without wasting a second, he turned on his heel and marched straight back to the registration desk, slamming his hands onto the counter. "I want my prize money."
The promoter looked up, a sly, mocking grin spreading across his face as he stared at the masked fighter. "Well look at that. You actually pulled it off, kid. You ready to move up to Level 2?"
"I don't care about Level 2 right now. Give me my credits," Haruto demanded sharply.
The promoter chuckled, reaching into his pocket. Instead of digital transfer terminals, he tossed three small, heavy, gleaming metallic objects onto the metal desk.
Haruto stared down at them, frowning beneath his mask. "What is this?"
The promoter laughed, shaking his head. "What, never seen physical credits before?"
Haruto picked up the three small items from the desk, examining them closely. They were sleek, rectangular pieces of dense carbon infused with a gleaming gold coating. Each piece represented 100 credits, bringing the total to the 300 credits he had earned. It was his very first time seeing physical credits up close.
"Here's your cut. That's 300," the promoter said, sliding them across the counter. "Though, I'll waive the 10 credit entry fee you promised me."
Haruto paused, narrowing his eyes behind his mask. "Why? What's the catch?"
The promoter leaned back, a calculating grin spreading across his face. "Let's just say you've got some hidden potential, kid. You're like a golden goose. I won't take your 10 credits, but here is my counter-offer: for your next round, we shake up the stakes. You fight, and whatever you win from here on out goes straight into your pocket—you keep every single cent. But in exchange, you stay under my management."
Haruto stared at him skeptically. "And what's in it for me besides playing by your rules?"
"Everything," the promoter replied smoothly. "Do you know who you beat out there? Megatooth was a former Level 9 contender last year. You're no ordinary newcomer." He leaned in closer. "My name is Rocky. Remember it."
With a flick of his wrist, Rocky slid a heavy, premium chip across the desk—a 500-credit VIP marker with a private contact number etched directly into its surface.
Haruto looked down at the chip, a cold, calculating smile tugging at the corners of his mouth beneath his mask. He reached out, scooped up his earnings along with the VIP chip, and pocketed them securely.
"Pleasure doing business with you, Rocky," Haruto said smoothly.
Without another word, Haruto turned on his heel and walked out of the backroom, stepping back into the neon-lit corridors of the underground circuit with his first real footing in this glitched-out world.
Stepping out from the underground arena into the cool night air, Haruto let out a slow breath, his mind already calculating his next move. Wait... I don't even have a communication device.
While this world operated on a vastly different system than his old life, it was undeniably futuristic, meaning tech terminals and devices were bound to be around. Doing the math in his head, he realized he now had a solid 800 credits total—300 from his match winnings and 500 from Rocky's VIP chip.
He stopped by a modest street-side vendor to grab a quick, cheap meal, spending just 10 credits on a dense, energy-packed loaf of bread to quiet his growling stomach. Sitting on a nearby bench, he mapped out his timeline.
According to the arena rules, mandatory ranked matches only happen once a month. That gives me thirty days before I'm forced back into the ring. Five hundred credits isn't enough to buy what I really need—I'll need to accumulate at least 3,000 credits if I want to purchase a high-grade, encrypted tech phone and the necessary clearance passes.
Haruto reached up, slowly pulling the sleek tactical mask off his face and holding it out in front of him. He stared at the dark plating, a chilling, resolute realization settling over him.
Echo—the sound that remains constantly returning even after the sound wave is gone.
He gave the mask a slight smirk. From this day forward, he was splitting his existence into two distinct lives. There was Echo, the ruthless, masked underground fighter who would carve a terrifying name for himself in the criminal underbelly, and there was Haruto, the ordinary slum commoner who would quietly work his way back up from the shadows.
Pocketing the mask, Haruto made his way back toward the slums. As he neared the familiar cluster of decaying shacks, he spotted Toya sitting outside on a crate, waiting for him.
Toya looked up, frowning as Haruto approached. "Hey. Where the hell have you been all night?"
Haruto stopped in front of him, catching his breath. "I went to go see Lilith."
Toya froze, blinking in absolute confusion. He stared at Haruto for a long moment, slowly tilting his head.
"Who the hell is Lilith?"
Haruto let out a dry, weary chuckle, shaking his head. "Never mind. Forget it."
With that, the two of them headed back into the cramped shack to get some rest for the night.
The next morning, the harsh sunlight cut through the cracks in the wooden walls as Toya tossed a small piece of dried meat into his mouth, looking over at Haruto. "Alright, what's the plan for today?"
Haruto cracked his knuckles, a sharp glint in his eyes. "We're going to grind levels. Properly. We need to push all the way up to Layer 10 of the lower sectors. And by the way, Toya—what's your current level?"
Toya paused, rolling his eyes as he stood up. "Same as you, obviously. Level 18. Since we're partnering up and sharing combat exp, we're going to level up together at the exact same pace." He narrowed his eyes, pointing an accusing finger at Haruto.
"And hey, don't forget—remember how back when we were kids, we made a promise since we both level up at so much high level we kept it secret? You know that people around our age are level 5. You must always try to hide it like your life depended on it. Don't go acting all high and mighty now."
Haruto groaned, rubbing his temples at the embarrassing childhood memory. "Yeah, yeah, I get it. Shut up about it."
As they packed up their meager belongings and stepped out into the dusty alleys, Haruto looked over at his friend, noticing something missing. "Wait, Toya... you don't even carry a weapon?"
Toya shrugged casually, flexing his bare hands. "Nah. We just throw hands like we always do."
Haruto let out a sigh, shaking his head at Toya's reckless lack of gear. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out one of his newly earned physical credit chips and handed it over. "Wait here."
He jogged over to a nearby local surplus merchant, dropping 100 credits to purchase a sturdy, reliable standard-issue sword. Tossing the weapon to Toya as he walked back, Haruto flashed a confident grin. "Use that. Don't go dying on me out there."
With their preparations complete, the two of them headed straight for the outer gates leading into Layer 1 of the lower sectors, stepping past the threshold and diving headfirst into the grind.
The next few hours turned into an absolute blur of relentless combat. Haruto's mind, sharp and battle-tested despite the system reset, cut through the basic mechanics with brutal efficiency. He directed Toya through optimal positioning, calling out targets, exploiting monster weaknesses, and chain-farming low-tier mobs at maximum speed.
They tore through the zones side-by-side, the shared experience points pushing their bars higher and higher until both of their status interfaces flashed.
DING!
Level 19 reached.
They didn't stop. Fuelled by adrenaline and Haruto's fierce determination to outpace any potential limits on his growth, they hunted down boss-tier monsters to trigger rapid floor transitions, bypassing the lower milestones and plunging deeper into the sector. What was supposed to be a steady climb through Layer 10 turned into a massive blitz, their momentum carrying them all the way past Layer 15 before they finally stopped to catch their breath.
Toya leaned against a rocky wall, panting heavily as he checked his glowing blue HUD, a wide grin spreading across his face. "Haha! Double level-up in one day? Man, today really is our lucky day!"
Toya paused, a strange, faraway look crossing his face as he wiped sweat from his forehead. "You know... Ivory's reality-bending magic is seriously insane. My actual level is supposed to be 80, but she set up this whole simulation to match Haruto's pace so he wouldn't suspect a thing..."
He muttered under his breath, shaking his head. "Though, man, messing with Lilith's system metrics like that drained me. I'm actually a Level 20 boss-tier entity, but jumping two levels in a single day—straight from 18 to 20—on top of simulating Haruto's ridiculous 2x EXP growth and adaptability... it takes a toll."
Toya shook his head, snapping back to the present moment as they packed up their gear. "Anyway, we should head back before it gets too late."
Haruto looked over at Toya, raising an eyebrow at his rambling. "Hey, did you even loot the monsters properly? We took down a ton of mobs today."
Toya groaned, holding up his inventory interface. "Boss, the drop rates in these lower layers are absolute garbage. Out of fifteen boss mobs we cleared, twelve dropped literally nothing. We only got garbage drops from the Layer 1, 3, and 5 bosses—their market value is practically zero." He sighed, looking up at the upward transit shaft. "We're going to need to plan a much longer expedition next time if we want to actually farm decent loot."
Haruto smirked, slinging his sword over his shoulder as he started walking back toward the sector exit. "Yeah, yeah. Next time, we're going on a proper, long-haul trip."
"Ha! Sounds like a plan," Toya grinned, jogging to catch up as they made their way back to the slums.