Carter Vayne didn't believe in miracles—he believed in margins. Margins meant control, predictability, a buffer between him and disaster. But lately, his margins had eroded like everything else in his life. Job gone. Credit ruined. Family... not so much estranged as nonexistent. And now, his last buffer was the flickering holoscreen above his capsule pod, displaying the final words that would seal his future:
"Connection Established. Welcome to Morph."
The blue text glowed against the matte-black interior of the rented neural immersion unit, giving the tiny space the same vibe as a coffin lit by neon. He shifted uncomfortably on the vinyl padding, trying not to think about the fact that the entire pod had cost him every last cent of his remaining savings. The food bar he'd eaten an hour ago might be his last for a while—unless this worked.
Morph wasn't just a game. It was the game. The first and only full neural-synch MMO, where your body and mind were scanned, digitized, and locked into a virtual persona. One character. One life. No alt accounts. No rerolls. Just you and whatever the Morph AI decided you were worth.
Some people entered Morph for glory. Others wanted to explore, to escape, or to conquer. Carter had one reason: money.
Weapon crafting in Morph had exploded into a real-world economy. Black-bordered gear pieces—items two tiers more powerful than their visible rank—sold for thousands of credits. Legendary sets fetched six figures. And if you could make something that broke the system, something with lore or a name attached to it, you could write your own paycheck. Carter had the skills. Years of real-world blacksmithing, metallurgy, and engineering, taught under his grandfather in a dusty garage back in Reno. What he didn't have was time.
Rent was due. Debts were circling. Morph was his last, best shot.
He lay back and tapped the final confirmation. The pod hissed as the gel lining the neural cradle filled around his skull. Cold and invasive. He clenched his jaw as the sync initiated. Data streamed into his mind, not as sound, but as sensation—a humming tension, like standing on the edge of a storm.
"Scanning cognitive and physiological data. Unique Skill generation initializing. Please remain still."
Carter exhaled slowly. The breath felt heavy. Final.
Then, silence.
---
He opened his eyes in a void.
It was serene—pale blue light stretching in all directions, endless and soft, as if he stood in the sky itself. A shape emerged before him, humanoid but faceless, made of data streams and geometric fragments that flickered in and out of focus.
"Welcome, Carter Vayne," it said, its voice neither male nor female, synthesized and soothing. "You have been DNA and psyche-locked to your Morph profile. There will be no reinitialization."
He knew the rules, but hearing them stated so plainly brought a weight that settled deep in his chest.
"Analyzing profile... generating Unique Skill..."
Carter held his breath. This was the moment. Most players got something functional. Some got lucky and rolled a Rare or Epic-ranked skill. A few had gone viral for their S-tier assignments. And then there were the rumors. Skills so powerful, so broken, they didn't fit on any scale. Myths.
The void flickered.
"Warning. Data entropy detected. Processing anomaly."
Carter blinked. "What?"
"Signal discontinuity. Rerouting origin thread... adapting fragment sequence."
The light surrounding him pulsed violently. He felt it behind his eyes, like static crawling through his brain. Something was wrong. Or right. He wasn't sure.
Then the voice returned, quieter.
"Unique Skill Generated: Origin Protocol: Echo Forge."
A brief pause. Then another line appeared in front of him, scrawled in glowing script:
"Rank: Undefined. Status: Evolutionary Glitch Detected. Monitoring Initiated."
Before Carter could respond, the void collapsed.
---
He awoke under the sky.
Not a sky, he corrected, but the Skylands of Orlen Vale—one of the starting zones in Morph, according to pre-release leaks. Azure clouds drifted lazily through fractured mountaintops. Wind whispered through tall yellow grass. Nearby, birds that looked like a cross between hawks and lanterns circled high overhead. It was... real.
Every sense was active. The crunch of earth beneath his boots. The warmth of a breeze against his cheek. Even the faint, damp smell of moss and iron.
A chirping tone echoed in his mind, followed by a translucent interface materializing in the air:
Player: Carter Vayne
Level: 1
Class: None
Unique Skill: Origin Protocol: Echo Forge
Tier: ???
Skill Description: "Forge objects from the echoes of moments, traits, or environmental imprints. Echoes may evolve based on emotional resonance and situational context."
"What the hell does that even mean?" he muttered. It sounded like a crafting skill crossed with memory manipulation and wrapped in philosophical nonsense.
Another notification flashed:
Zone Discovered: Borderlands of the Tamed Lands
Proximity Alert: Frontier region detected within 500 meters. Risk Level: High. Reward Potential: Exceptional.
He turned toward the horizon. A jagged cliff marked the edge of the plateau he stood on. Beyond it, endless forest stretched into shifting fog. No map markers. No trails. Just wilderness.
The Frontier.
He'd read about it. Watched theory videos. Morph was divided into two primary realms: the Tamed Lands, where civilization reigned, dungeons were farmed, and guilds fought for territory... and the Frontier. No towns. No rules. Just the unknown.
A rustle broke his thoughts.
From the treeline, a creature burst into view. Massive. Boar-like, covered in thorny bristles, tusks the size of daggers. It had glowing amber eyes and a black border around its nameplate: a set creature.
Carter didn't think. He ran.
His boots pounded against soft earth. Branches slapped his face as he ducked through brush, heart hammering. The beast crashed behind him, snorting fury.
He spotted a low crevice in a rocky outcrop and dove for it. The boar charged past, missing him by inches. He landed hard, gasping, clutching his ribs.
"Okay," he muttered between breaths, "no gear, no class, and my skill might be broken. Great start."
Then something strange happened. The air shimmered where the boar had passed. A faint trail—not visible, but sensed—lingered. Carter felt it pull at him. A memory, perhaps. A moment.
He reached out, instinctively channeling his skill.
Echo Detected. Imprint: Rage / Territory / Momentum
Forgeable Trait Unlocked: Wild Charge (Unstable)
Before his eyes, a translucent hammer appeared, hovering. It pulsed. Waiting.
He reached for it.
"Let's see what you can really do, Ech
Somewhere deep in the system's code, a line of red text flickered briefly:
Glitch-Linked Entity Detected. Observation Level Elevated.
The forest had grown quiet again, but Carter's pulse hadn't gotten the memo. His back pressed against the rough stone of the outcrop, chest heaving with every breath, and his thoughts still racing from his near-death encounter. That boar—whatever twisted, tusked, black-bordered monstrosity it had been—could have ended his adventure before it even started.
He closed his eyes for a moment and inhaled deeply. The scent of damp moss, pine resin, and disturbed earth filled his lungs. Morph was too real. It wasn't like the other VR games he'd tested or seen streamed. The sensory fidelity was staggering—his skin tingled with residual fear, his legs ached from sprinting, and his heart... well, it hadn't calmed down yet.
The system's faint hum returned to the edge of his mind, subtle but ever-present. He blinked open his interface, still unfamiliar but surprisingly intuitive.
Initialization Exception Logged
Spawn Location: Manual Override (Border of the Tamed Lands)
Tutorial Sequence: Bypassed
Reason: Unique Skill Initialization Error. AI Monitoring Enabled.
He stared at the message, then sighed through gritted teeth. "So I broke the game and skipped orientation. Great."
Carter had been expecting a pleasant little town. A few tutorial quests. Maybe an NPC who taught him to swing a pickaxe or gather herbs. Instead, he got dumped into the wilderness, next to the most dangerous part of the map, with nothing but a glitchy skill and a system watching his every move.
It was absurd. But it was also kind of... freeing.
He closed the window and tapped into his status panel. His fatigue meter was in the red. His energy reserve, what some players called the mental load bar, was at 84%. A warning pulsed gently, recommending rest. He understood the consequences. Morph wasn't a game you could binge endlessly. It demanded pacing. Players who pushed too hard became sluggish, disoriented, even hallucinated. And those who died paid dearly.
He remembered the death penalty clearly: locked out of the game for 24 real-world hours, 72 hours of lost in-game time, and a brutal loss of three levels. Worse, if you were level zero like him? You started going negative, earning penalties that made each comeback that much harder. Negative levels. It was a sick twist on permadeath. He could lose everything before he even got started.
He rubbed his face, then took stock of his surroundings. The shallow stone alcove he'd dived into was narrow but secure. Moss and bramble grew over its mouth, shielding him from easy view. The inside was cool and dry, a rare blessing in what felt like an otherwise punishing start.
"Guess this is camp for the night," he murmured.
There were no tents, no campfires, no cozy save points. Just dirt, stone, and the weight of survival. Morph didn't offer fast travel or respawn hubs unless you built or earned them. Everything had to be carved from the world, piece by piece. Just another way the AI forced players to take ownership of their experiences.
Carter slid deeper into the alcove and activated the rest protocol.
Neural Drift Enabled. Passive EchoScan Active. Threat Alert: Medium Sensitivity.
His body relaxed incrementally. He adjusted his position until the ache in his shoulder dulled to a tolerable throb, then let his head rest back against the stone. He exhaled.
His thoughts circled back to the moment that had changed everything.
Echo Forge.
A skill with no rank. No limit. Born from a glitch the system couldn't categorize. He had used it once, instinctively, and pulled something from the boar's passing rage—a raw trait distilled into a usable form. The interface had labeled it: Wild Charge. Unstable. Forgeable.
What did that mean? Was it a consumable? A template? A modifier?
Could he gather echoes from more than creatures? From people? From the land itself? What if he could forge a blade from silence, a shield from sorrow, armor from bravery? The possibilities stretched endlessly, wild and seductive.
But no guidance came. No system tutorial. No friendly UI to walk him through Echo Forge's mechanics. The AI had thrown him into the deep end with nothing but questions and a world that didn't care whether he found answers or not.
Carter let his eyes wander across the interior of the alcove. Faint light filtered through the foliage above. Tiny glowing insects danced in the air beyond his hiding place. The sound of water trickled somewhere off to the right—a creek, maybe.
A place to drink, a place to hide, and no immediate threats. For now, it was enough.
His breathing slowed. Muscles released their tension. The fear faded, replaced by a creeping fatigue.
Before sleep took him, he glanced down at the back of his hand. The sigil of Echo Forge shimmered faintly, almost like it was breathing with him.
Whatever this world had planned—whatever the AI wanted, whatever this glitch meant—he was in it now.