Year 2043
Brain-machine gaming had finally come into its own. With experiences so immersive they blurred the line between reality and fantasy, gamers across the world were losing themselves—literally and figuratively. But as with all new technology, the selection of games was dismal. Exclusive titles were so few that even a dog might scoff. Nonetheless, the future looked bright.
Lucian, a self-proclaimed lifelong otaku, sat in the glow of his gaming setup, deep in the comfort of his personal e-sports room. A cable ran from his sleek new brain-machine interface to his PC, blinking steadily as he worked.
What, you're wondering how Lucian can do this porting? Is he some software genius? Of course not!
He wasn't some tech savant, nor a software genius. Just a lonely, aging nerd who had seen one too many DIY tutorials on game porting.
Today's challenge? Elden Ring. The game of his childhood—the one that had once ignited in him a sense of awe and wonder. He had already ported a few old titles onto the brain-machine without issue. Surely this one would be no different.
After all, brain-machine systems were designed with safety as a top priority. If something went wrong, they shut down automatically. And while unofficial ports weren't quite as immersive as the native games, the optimization was strong enough to breathe new life into them.
So, as he clicked through the final lines of code, Lucian felt confident. Hopeful.
Then came the sound.
*Crack*
*Snap*
*Burn*
And in an instant, Lucian's world went dark.
---
He awoke to silence. Cold, dusty silence. A filthy carpet pressed against his cheek as his eyes fluttered open. For a moment, his mind was blank.
Then confusion set in.
"A carpet? My room doesn't even have a carpet!" he muttered.
He jerked upright, heart pounding. His thoughts struggled to assemble themselves. "Wait... I was trying to port Elden Ring into the brain-machine. Could it have... actually worked?"
He stood, brushing dirt from his hands. The room around him was dim and desolate—shattered chairs, crumbling stone walls, weeds creeping through the floor. The atmosphere was heavy with silence and memory. Recognition struck like a lightning bolt.
This was the Chapel of Anticipation.
The starting point of Elden Ring.
"No way. First try? Did I really pull it off? Am I... a genius?" He laughed, breathless with disbelief.
Reaching down, he ran a hand over the armor on his chest. Cold metal. Scratches. Dents. It all felt so real. Too real.
"Hah! Elden Ring, baby! I'm coming for you, Malenia!"
Joy surged through him as he moved about the chapel. He jumped. Rolled. Drew a longsword from his side and slashed at the decaying chairs. They splintered beautifully under his blows. The weight, the sound, the resistance—it was all perfect.
Then something caught his eye.
In a shadowed corner of the chapel, slumped against the wall, was a body.
A woman. A Finger Maiden.
He approached cautiously. The light was dim, but he could see enough. She lay on her side, lifeless, her hood partially hiding her face. Beside her, etched into the floor, were faint, glowing words:
Though the path be broken and uncertain, claim your place as Elden Lord.
Lucian stared at her, a pang of emotion welling in his chest.
"Damn. She's just some barely developed NPC. Hardly any lines, no name I can even remember... but seeing her like this still hits different."
He wiped sweat from his brow. "And being the guy who's supposed to meet everyone's expectations? Yeah... that's pressure I wasn't ready for."
He turned to leave.
But curiosity tugged at him.
He looked back. "I wonder what she really looks like."
Kneeling beside her, he gently pushed aside the veil of her hood. But her body, angled sideways, shifted slightly with his touch—and the hood fell completely.
Startled, he caught it in his hands. Just then, glowing text appeared in his vision:
Finger Maiden Hood
He froze.
That item shouldn't have been here. You couldn't acquire it at this point in the game.
And he hadn't modded anything. He'd only ported the game. No changes. No cheats.
So how?
A cold dread crawled down his spine.
This wasn't right. The realism. The unpredictability. The impossible item.
He opened the menu to log out.
Nothing happened.
He tried again. Nothing.
No sound. No response. No interface.
Then, from the depths of his mind, a memory surfaced—jagged, painful, and terrifying.
The searing pain of electricity tearing through his body.
The shriek of burning circuits.
The last moments before the machine consumed him.
And then he remembered.
He had died.
"I... I died? Just from trying to play a damn game?"
His legs gave way. He slumped to his knees, staring at his hands.
"I didn't want to die..."
But death had already come.
And something else had taken its place.