Tales of Death and Justice, NewFrontier's newest and most revolutionary VRMMORPG, will hit shelves worldwide in just thirty days - and it's already on pre-order at the best stores for just 140 dollars!
What are you waiting for to secure yours?
Available for total immersion devices manufactured after December 2040.*
An insistent drip echoed in the ears of a man lying on his bed. Even muffled by the animated voice of the TV presenter, it was still clear enough to make him frown in disgust.
He took a deep breath, gathered his courage and stood up. His feet touched the damp, stained floor, while his eyes scanned the faded green walls.
Yawning tiredly, he walked to the bathroom where the tap dripped non-stop. He began his morning routine, as tedious as that of anyone he knew.
He brushed his teeth, rinsed his face and then sighed. He turned off the tap and dried himself with a worn towel. Then he stared at his reflection in the foggy mirror.
His name was Cain. And he wasn't an ugly man... or at least, he hadn't always been.
The man staring back at him in the reflection was tall, thin, in his forties. Deep-set eyes, marked by dark circles. His jaw was strong and he had a scruffy beard, his skin was beaten, showing the price of lack of sleep and basic care.
Cain remembered well when the girls used to shout his name in the school corridors. As if it had been twenty-five years ago... Well, maybe because it really was twenty-five years ago.
A bitter smile formed on his lips. He missed that young, handsome face, the women sighing at the sight of his smile and the men bursting with envy.
But that time had passed. His last girlfriend had left him five years ago, and since then he hadn't had much luck with women.
He left the bathroom and looked at the capsule next to the bed. It was a gray oval structure with a tempered glass lid. Inside, padding that had once been white was now stained yellow by time.
He rested his hand on the capsule and lifted the lid before carefully lying down inside and picking up the helmet connected to the capsule by thick wires.
Fitting it on his head. He pressed the front button and closed his eyes.
"One... Two... Three..."
After five seconds, a loud, annoying beep sounded. A red LED flashed for an instant before going out.
"Crap..." he growled, pressing the button again.
"One... Two... Three... Four... Five... Six... Seven..."
The same beep cut off the count. Cain opened his eyes with a frustrated grunt, got up and left the capsule.
"Ah... looks like I'm going to have to get a real job now..." he sighed, throwing himself onto the hard mattress of his bed.
Ever since he left the army to try to become a professional gamer ten years ago, that capsule had been his life.
He spent days and nights immersed in VRMMORPGs, playing non-stop to obtain rare items that he sold to rich, lazy players.
At first, it was like living a dream. But over time, it became just a job.
The pay was low, but it was still better than risking your life in the army or spending up to sixteen hours a day in factories, inhaling poison and dying before you were thirty.
At least that was the case until his capsule began to lose support.
When he'd bought it, he'd paid five thousand dollars - and it was already outdated at the time. Even so, there were plenty of active and profitable games compatible with it. But that gradually changed.
Support began to disappear and players migrated to newer platforms. In the last four years, only one game has continued to work.
"Tales of Immortals and Gods," Cain muttered the name of the title that had sustained him for so long.
He didn't even know how that game still existed. There were no forums, no ads. In years of playing, he had never met another player.
All sales were made directly to the system itself, which always paid him in dollars, instantly.
The game itself was strange.
A cultivation RPG mixed with a simulator of administration and sect building. The player cultivated the path to immortality while managing a sect with elements of gacha, raising it from a miserable organization in the mortal heaven to a powerhouse in the celestial heaven.
"It doesn't matter anymore..." Cain repeated to himself, staring at the worn-out ceiling of the apartment. He picked up his cell phone and opened the bank app.
His total immersion capsule had broken. He probably wouldn't be seeing that game any time soon, so he needed to find another way of making a living.
"1200 dollars... The rent is due tomorrow. If I save well, I might last a few weeks." Cain looked at his bank balance.
Perhaps he could buy a low-level capsule, similar to the one he had. But that would mean not paying the rent - and his landlord wasn't known for his generosity.
If he fell a month behind, he'd end up freezing outside, He knew that better than anyone.
"Can I still go back to the army?" Cain thought aloud, standing up.
Going back didn't seem like a bad idea. Cain was a veteran of an elite battalion, and the army always needed fighters to confront terrorist groups. Besides, he had only just gone into the reserves - technically, he was still a soldier.
He could spend another five years living and eating in the barracks, saving as much money as possible and then buy a high-quality capsule.
'Hey... That idea doesn't sound so bad,' Cain thought.
After all, he was already forty. He had grown up an orphan, with no ambitions and no one but himself to please. If he died in combat... Well, it would just be less oxygen being wasted in the world.
He scratched his back, yawned widely, put on a shirt and combed his hair anyway. He opened the apartment door and stepped out into the corridor.
"What the...?" he suddenly stopped.
His eyes widened and his heart raced.
Standing right in front of his neighbor's door was a squad of heavily armed soldiers.
Black uniforms, armored enough to withstand .50 caliber ammunition. Gas masks. And on their chests, a symbol that Cain knew well - a knife embedded in a skull. The same elite battalion to which he had belonged.
Like him, the soldiers stood motionless for a moment.
"Deal with that son of a bitch, quickly! We're going to invade now!" The officer leading the operation broke the silence. He steadied the shotgun in his hands and fired at the locks on the door, breaking it down without hesitation.
Cain heard the noise of the invasion, shots and the desperate cries of the young people inside, taken by surprise and unable to react or grab their weapons.
These were terrorists, he knew that, but never really cared.
Then he felt the cold barrel of the officer's gun pressing against his chest.
In that officer's view, Cain was just a civilian, and leaving him alive would be an extra problem. The media always complicated these operations, so it was better not to leave any witnesses. That way, they could tell the story any way they wanted.
"Wait!" Cain realized the danger and quickly reached into his pocket, pulling out his military ID card.
Too late.
The shot rang out. Cain felt his flesh tear and his bones break. His body fell to the ground, and the ID card slipped from his hand, mixing with the pool of blood forming beneath him.
He choked, coughing heavily, the blood from his lungs rising to his mouth.
Cain's vision began to blur. The soldiers' voices became distant. And after a long, torturous moment... darkness.
***
And then, out of the darkness... came the light.
His senses, long dormant, began to return, one by one. He felt the ground beneath his feet, heard birdsong and a gentle breeze caressed his face.
Before he even opened his eyes, his first instinct was to vomit.
Gripping the sandy soil, he emptied his stomach, feeling the bitter taste of bile spread through his mouth. His mind was foggy, as if he had just stepped off a spinning ride in some theme park.
"Argh..." Cain groaned, opening his eyes and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
All around him, a lush forest stretched out under the scorching midday light. Not far away, a crystal-clear stream ran between the rocks, sparkling in the sun.
Hadn't he... died?
He stood up with difficulty and looked down at his trembling hands. They were young, their fingers long and thin.
Ignoring the vomit at his feet, he crawled to the edge of the stream and leaned over the water to see his own reflection.
What he saw was the face of a young man - perhaps no older than eighteen.
His features were delicate, but undeniably masculine. Pale, perfect skin, like that of a baby, with no marks, no body hair. His eyes were dark, his hair long and black, his eyebrows straight and perfectly trimmed, his eyelashes thick and his nose small.
Cain was paralyzed.
He raised his hands to his face, touching his cheeks. The skin was smooth, almost too soft - his fingers sank into it, as if it were made of living silk.
Is it... a dream?
No, it is too real.
Perhaps he was still in the game?
He had heard of cases in which people had passed out and dreamed extremely lucid experiences while connected to total immersion pods.
But no...
That had been too real. The pain, the blood, the screams... he had died. Cain was sure of that. No dream could reproduce that sensation so perfectly.
It was then that the answer came.
[Greetings, host. You have arrived on the Blue Moon Continent, in the Mortal Heaven. Choose a place to found your sect and start your journey towards immortality!"].
"That's..." His voice was slurred as he read those words.
He knew that translucent screen and that text very well. It was the welcome message displayed after creating a new character in Tales of Immortals and Gods.