I removed the immersion helmet and stood, muscles stiff from hours spent in virtual stasis. Stretching the haze from my limbs, I drifted toward the floor-to-ceiling window. With a mechanical whisper, the curtains drew back, unveiling a sky smeared in molten crimson. The city below bathed in the last embers of the setting sun—beautiful, and quietly fading.
Much like Genesis Frontier.
For three years, the VRMMO had reigned supreme—a digital empire of seventy million minds, immersed through a 50% neural-sync system. It had been my world. My battlefield. My kingdom. And I had ruled it as one of the elite.
I wasn't just a player—I was a professional. The kind that turned pixels into paychecks, strategies into sponsorships. I led Skyspire Guild, shattered records, and wielded the legendary Phantom Reaver, a weapon second only to myth.
But even legends crumble.
Three months ago, the Global Coalition—seven world powers united under a rare truce—announced a new creation: Netherverse. A quantum-fused MMO powered by planetary satellites and AI-driven immersion. Ninety-five percent realism. One world, shared in real time. No betas. No early access. Just one synchronized launch: October 15, 2087.
And one month later? Real-world currency integration. Gold to dollars. Items to assets. The virtual economy would bleed into the real one, backed by the World Bank and every participating nation.
When I read that press release, I knew Genesis was done.
In three months, I liquidated everything—gear, currency, prestige assets. I even sold off my signature items: the Celestial Stride Boots and Phantom Reaver. That final fire sale netted me 470,000 yuan. Not bad, considering the bottom had already begun to fall out of the market.
Still, it stung. Those Boots alone once fetched three times what I got. But at least I wasn't one of the hopefuls still clinging to their old world, waiting for a rebound that would never come.
My phone buzzed, breaking the silence with a ringtone so obnoxious, I didn't need to check the screen.
"Kai! Dude!" The voice came in like rapid gunfire. "Where've you been?! No signal, no status updates—then Lyra tells me you deleted your account?! And I just saw your Mythic Armor on the auction board! You're really done with GF?!"
"Chill, Vale," I replied, half-yawning. "I told you I was quitting. Sold the last of it an hour ago. Account's wiped."
"Man! Netherverse doesn't even drop for another three weeks! You couldn't hang for one last dungeon run? We could've made bank!"
"Sell your stuff," I said. "Now. Before you're left holding digital garbage."
He groaned. "You're ruthless, you know that? Whatever. I already offloaded most of it. Got thirty-five grand for my full battle loadout. Not terrible. Still, game's gonna feel real empty without you."
I smirked. "Then prep for the real game. Word is, top one thousand players at launch get access to prototype AI integration."
"Yeah, I heard. Ordered my capsule last week. No way I'm logging in with a bargain-bin helmet. You?"
"Arrives in an hour."
"Of course it does. You're always ten moves ahead. Alright, I'll stop bugging you. See you in the Netherverse."
I hung up. The skyline was fading into shadows now, the last streaks of crimson swallowed by night.
Goodbye, Genesis Frontier.
The sun had set on the old world.
What came next… would change everything.