Rex leaned back in his worn-out gaming chair, his fingers aching from hours of movement that felt more instinct than thought. The dim glow of multiple monitors lit his pale face, highlighting dark shadows under his eyes — the telltale marks of days spent without sleep. His apartment was littered with empty energy drink cans, discarded snacks, and scattered notes he had long forgotten. Yet none of it mattered. Not now.
On the largest screen, the world of Eternal Nexus sprawled out like a living, breathing entity. Towering mountains, deep forests, and ruined castles filled the horizon. The final boss of the game loomed before him, massive and grotesque, a creature forged from nightmares — jagged scales, burning eyes, and claws sharp enough to slice through steel. Its roar shook the virtual ground beneath him, rattling speakers and sending vibrations up his chair.
Rex's avatar, Kyle Lunaris, stood ready at the center of the battlefield. He wasn't the kind of character other players flocked to. Short red hair, piercing golden eyes, and a sleek black-and-silver outfit marked him as unimpressive at first glance. His sword — plain, unassuming, yet balanced perfectly in his grip — gleamed faintly, catching the light with every movement.
Other players had abandoned this character long ago. "Trash," they called him. Weak. Useless. Unfit for endgame battles.
Yet Kyle — and Rex controlling him — was perfect. Every slash, every step, every feint was honed by Rex's years of strategy and precision. Kyle wasn't flashy, but his movements were poetry in motion. A simple thrust could bypass defenses, a spin could disarm multiple enemies, and the combination of martial precision and swordsmanship made him unpredictable.
Rex rubbed his eyes, suppressing a yawn. "Man… I've been at this for three days straight. Pushing past fatigue, dodging, timing attacks… finally, the last boss."
He flexed his fingers, feeling the ache but ignoring it. Kyle stood poised, watching the colossal enemy. Rex whispered under his breath, "Come on… just one more round. Just this one…"
The boss charged. Rex's reflexes guided Kyle seamlessly, dodging a swipe of molten claws, spinning around, and striking at the beast's exposed flank. The fight was relentless — an endless dance of attack and counterattack. Rex's heart raced, blood pumping faster despite his exhaustion. Every hit, every movement, every block was a calculation, a test of patience and endurance.
Hours passed. The apartment clock ticked somewhere in the background, unnoticed. His vision blurred occasionally, but he shook his head and pressed on. The boss staggered. Its health bar, glowing a menacing red, finally dipped below ten percent. Rex's pulse quickened; victory was close.
With a final, perfectly timed slash from Kyle's sword, the boss let out an ear-splitting roar and crumbled into fragments of molten rock. Sparks and light filled the arena. Rex leaned back, exhaling deeply, a small smile forming despite the exhaustion.
"Yes… finally," he muttered. "I can… finally sleep. But first… let's see what loot drops."
A chest materialized where the boss had fallen, shimmering with golden light. Rex leaned forward, curiosity piqued. The chest opened, revealing a single item — a crystal orb, pulsing faintly with an inner light.
"Huh… that's interesting," Rex murmured. He reached out with his mouse to claim it.
The moment he clicked, the orb exploded with an intense, blinding light. The glow spread through the monitors, across his desk, illuminating every corner of the apartment. Rex squinted, shielding his eyes, and stumbled back.
"What the—?"
Before he could react further, the light engulfed him completely. The monitors, his chair, even the floor beneath him seemed to vanish. A high-pitched, almost mechanical voice resonated from the blank whiteness:
"Let's begin… the real game."
Rex tried to resist, to grasp at something familiar — his keyboard, his mouse, anything — but his body went limp. The world spun. Dizziness overwhelmed him. Then, darkness.
When he opened his eyes, the first sensation was weight. A weight in his body he didn't recognize — not just physically, but in the way he moved. He blinked against the sunlight filtering through a small window. The room was modest, slightly larger than his apartment, but distinctly foreign.
Rex groaned, sitting up slowly. His body felt… taller. Stronger. He staggered to his feet, clutching his head. "What… happened? This isn't… it can't be…"
He spotted a mirror across the room. His hands shook as he brushed his hair out of his eyes. He froze.
Red. Hair. Shorter, fiery red.
Golden eyes stared back. Wide. Piercing. Unmistakable.
Rex stumbled back. "No… no way… Kyle?" His voice cracked. "I… I'm… him? I'm actually… Kyle Lunaris?"
Every instinct screamed at him — the strength in his legs, the precision in his arms, the weight of the sword suddenly resting in his hand — everything felt real.
Then it hit him. This wasn't a dream. The world outside the window, the furniture, the floor — it all had a tactile weight. The apartment, the monitors, the game… none of it existed here. He was inside the game.
Rex swayed, gripping the edge of the mirror. His mind reeled as Kyle's memories started seeping into him. Not just combat instincts, but habits, skills, and fleeting visions of places and people he had never known. Training grounds, forests, cities… names and faces flashing across his mind in dizzying succession.
"Holy… crap…" he whispered, staggering back. "It's all… there. I'm… him. I'm Kyle…"
He sank onto the small bed, trying to process it. Every movement felt foreign yet natural — his body remembered what his mind didn't yet understand. Reflexes that once existed only in muscle memory now were real, alive. His hands flexed over the hilt of the sword, and it felt like an extension of himself.
Rex — now Kyle — sank to his knees, gripping his head. "This… can't be happening. How… why…?"
His gaze fell to his reflection again. The fiery red hair, the golden eyes, the confident stance — everything screamed Kyle, everything screamed power.
And yet… it was terrifying. He wasn't just a player anymore. He was the character he had controlled for days, the swordsman he had mastered in-game. Every move he had practiced, every strategy he had perfected, now required real decisions. Every swing, every dodge, every attack… life or death.
A shiver ran down his spine. And somewhere deep in his consciousness, Kyle's instincts whispered:
"The game hasn't started yet… but it's real now."
Rex leaned against the mirror, running his hands through the unfamiliar hair once more. "I… I'm Kyle… Kyle Lunaris. And if this is real… then I need to survive. I need to… understand this world."
The sword beside him gleamed in the morning light, as if responding. It was more than a weapon. It was a key. A challenge. A life he never asked for — yet one he now embodied completely.
The sunlight spilling through the small window warmed Kyle Lunaris' face as he sat on the modest bed. For a moment, he simply stared at his hands, flexing the fingers and marveling at the strength and coordination that felt innate, yet alien. No longer was he Rex, the exhausted gamer living in a cramped apartment. He was Kyle, standing in a world that felt like Eternal Nexus, yet alive, tangible, and infinitely more dangerous.
Rex's mind — now fully merged with Kyle's body — exhaled, almost in relief. There was no one left to search for him in his old life. No friends, no family, no one who would even notice his disappearance. For the first time in years, a strange freedom settled over him.
"Alright," he muttered aloud, his voice carrying the confidence of someone who had finally accepted the impossible. "I am Kyle now. This world… is Eternal Nexus. And maybe… maybe all the characters from the game really exist here too."
A small, almost mischievous smile tugged at his lips. The thought excited him more than anything else — a thrill that no boss fight, no loot drop, could ever provide. Kyle rose from the bed, brushing the lingering strands of red hair from his eyes, his golden irises catching the morning light. His gaze fell upon a neatly folded envelope sitting atop the bedside table.
"Hmm… what's this?" he wondered aloud, curiosity prickling at his senses.
He approached the letter, his long fingers deftly opening the envelope. Unfolding the parchment, he read the words inscribed in elegant calligraphy:
"To Kyle Lunaris, You are hereby recommended for enrollment into Academy Lyoner, the most renowned and prestigious academy in the kingdom. Your potential has been recognized, and we await your presence."
Kyle's eyes widened as he absorbed the message. Academy Lyoner… the place of legends. The center of skill, strategy, and martial mastery. Memories flickered briefly — or perhaps it was instinct — of a past he didn't quite remember. Kyle realized something: he had technically been a student here before, but he hadn't entered. He had run away. And now… the academy was offering him another chance.
"Well," he whispered, tilting his head, "perhaps this is my chance to train… for the disasters yet to come."
He tucked the letter carefully into his tunic and stepped outside. The morning air was crisp, carrying the scents of a forested village not far from his new home. His legs carried him effortlessly, but the sensation of movement in this new body was still foreign.
"Still not fully used to this… body," he admitted to himself. He gauged his reflection in the polished surface of a nearby pond. "Height… 178 centimeters. Weight… about 63 kilograms. Muscles… well-defined, strong, and… already pushing their limit."
A soft chuckle escaped him. "Perhaps… the gods have granted me a fraction of the skill I honed in the game."
Yet a question lingered, gnawing at him. Could I really enter Academy Lyoner without mana? Without the ability to channel energy as every other student does?
Kyle's lips curled into a small, confident smile. "Only one way to find out."
He reached for the sword leaning against the wall. Not named yet, unadorned, simple — but balanced perfectly in his hand. The weight felt natural, almost as if it had been designed for him alone.
"Time to test this body… and my techniques," he murmured.
As he raised the sword, focusing, a stream of images and instinctive movements flooded his mind. Twelve precise forms, sequences of thrusts, spins, and strikes — all perfectly choreographed. Even without prior conscious knowledge, his body knew. This was muscle memory from Kyle's innate talent, merged with Rex's years of gaming precision.
Kyle smiled wider. "Ah… the body remembers. The mind just needs to catch up."
Mounting a nearby horse he had prepared, Kyle approached a large, sturdy tree near the edge of the village. The thought of testing his sword in the open, without fear of damaging precious property, thrilled him. He raised the blade and swung it with all his strength.
Nothing.
The sword — simple and wooden — hit the tree and bounced off with no visible mark. Kyle frowned. "Of course… I cannot expect miracles with a wooden blade."
He dismounted and circled back toward his home, observing the swing pattern of the strike. His instincts hummed, analyzing speed, angle, and power. Then — an unexpected crash echoed through the clearing.
Kyle spun around. His eyes widened. There, a massive tree he had struck earlier was split cleanly in half. The cut was impossibly smooth, as if a master swordsman had carved it with perfection.
"I… I didn't realize it would actually… cut the tree?!" he exclaimed, disbelief cracking his voice.
Heart racing, Kyle examined the blade. Though it was still a wooden practice sword, the force and precision of his swing had translated into reality. The talent within him — the combination of martial arts and sword mastery — had manifested, even with a rudimentary weapon.
"Perhaps… this is enough to get me into Academy Lyoner," he thought. But then a more pressing question struck him: What should I call this technique?
He paused, gazing at the red hair that framed his face and the crimson moon hanging low in the sky. Inspiration struck. This style — twelve forms, a perfect balance of offense and defense, elegance and lethality — needed a name that reflected both his identity and the world around him.
"Crimson… Moon… Sword Technique," he said aloud, testing the words on his tongue. "Yes… that's it. The Crimson Moon Sword Technique."
A small smirk played on his lips as he imagined the twelve forms flowing seamlessly together: thrust, parry, spin, leap, strike, and finish — each motion a brushstroke painted in steel and motion, all under the gaze of the crimson moon.
Kyle mounted his horse again, swinging his sword experimentally, feeling each form in succession. Even as a wooden blade, every strike and movement carried weight, intention, and precision. The Red Moon Sword Technique — simple in appearance, deadly in execution — had been born.
For the first time since awakening, Kyle felt truly alive in this world. His senses sharpened. Every movement of the horse, every leaf in the wind, every shift in the terrain seemed magnified, feeding his awareness and instinct. He tested the technique once more against a nearby tree. Each swing left a faint trace of a slash — subtle, but unmistakable.
"Yes," he murmured, confidence surging, "this body, this sword… I can make this work. Academy Lyoner… let's see what you have for me."
And as the crimson moon climbed higher into the sky, Kyle's grin widened. The Red Moon Sword Technique had been named. His path was clear. And the world — Eternal Nexus in its truest form — awaited him.
The morning air was crisp and filled with the faint scent of pine and earth. Kyle stood in a wide clearing just outside his small house, the red moon still faintly visible in the sky above, as if silently approving his actions. He adjusted his grip on the wooden practice sword, feeling the familiar weight settle into his hands.
"Crimson Moon Sword Technique…" he whispered, letting the words resonate through the clearing. The red aura shimmered along the blade as if responding to his command.
Kyle took a deep breath and steadied his stance. His mind was clear, his body fully adapted to his new form. The twelve formations he had glimpsed in his memory and instinct were now ready to be tested in full sequence.
1. Crimson Slash
He began with a horizontal sweep. Kyle's sword cut through the air like a red streak, leaving a glowing afterimage that shimmered faintly in the morning light. The force of the swing caused the grass around him to bend and ripple, as though the air itself acknowledged the strike.
"Crimson Moon Sword Technique: Crimson Slash!"
The motion was fluid, precise. Kyle repeated it several times, each swing sharper, cleaner, faster than the last, until he could feel the aura of the technique resonating in his muscles.
2. Lunar Thrust
Kyle adjusted his stance, stepping forward with deliberate control. He thrust the sword forward, aiming at an imaginary target, and the wooden blade felt impossibly light and yet precise. Each thrust left a faint red streak in the air, slicing through branches and leaves with uncanny accuracy.
"Crimson Moon Sword Technique: Lunar Thrust!"
The motion pushed his body's reflexes to the limit, training both speed and focus. Kyle's golden eyes narrowed as he repeated the thrusts, perfecting the alignment of his body and the flow of energy through the sword.
3. Eclipse Spin
With a slight twist of his torso, Kyle spun, bringing the sword in a full arc around him. The afterimages multiplied, leaving a faint red halo in the air. He could feel the wind resistance, the shift in balance, but the sequence flowed naturally from one motion to the next.
"Crimson Moon Sword Technique: Eclipse Spin!"
The clearing seemed to bend around him, branches snapping lightly as the energy from the swing grazed the edges of the nearby trees. Kyle landed solidly, spinning once more to perfect the form.
4. Moonlit Step
Kyle dashed forward with incredible speed, the sword arcing diagonally as he sliced toward the ground in a flowing motion. The wooden blade seemed to hum in resonance with his movement, leaving a faint red shimmer in the path of the strike.
"Crimson Moon Sword Technique: Moonlit Step!"
Even without a proper enemy, he could feel the rhythm of attack and movement. His legs moved like spring-loaded mechanisms, each step and swing perfectly aligned.
5. Scarlet Rain
Kyle raised the sword high above his head and began a rapid series of vertical strikes. The red aura intensified, flowing along the blade in pulsating bursts with each downward slash. The clearing became a storm of light, afterimages crisscrossing the air.
"Crimson Moon Sword Technique: Scarlet Rain!"
Leaves and small branches snapped under the invisible force of the strikes. Kyle's heart raced with excitement as he flowed from one strike to another, a storm of crimson cutting through the world.
6. Twilight Fang
A twist, a thrust, a precision strike — Kyle executed it flawlessly. The technique allowed him to pierce an opponent's defenses while maintaining control and balance. He practiced the motion repeatedly, perfecting the subtle rotation of his wrist and the angle of the blade.
"Crimson Moon Sword Technique: Twilight Fang!"
Even with a wooden sword, he could feel the potential lethality of the move if applied against real opponents.
7. Crimson Crescent
Kyle brought the sword in a wide arc, sweeping the space around him. The afterimage of the blade traced a perfect crescent, cutting through the air with grace.
"Crimson Moon Sword Technique: Crimson Crescent!"
Small branches snapped under the flow of energy. Kyle rotated and repeated the form, ensuring that each swing was evenly balanced, flowing from defense into attack.
8. Blood Moon Rising
Kyle leapt high into the air, raising the sword above his head, and then descended with a vertical strike. The wooden blade struck the ground with a resounding thud, leaving faint grooves in the dirt and a ripple of red aura across the clearing.
"Crimson Moon Sword Technique: Blood Moon Rising!"
He repeated the jump and descent, testing timing, strength, and the smooth transition between jump and strike. Each repetition honed his muscle memory further.
9. Sanguine Flow
Now Kyle entered the flow state, moving through a seamless combination of previous strikes. Slash, thrust, spin, dash — each motion a continuous extension of the last. His body moved like a river of crimson, energy coiling along the sword and through his limbs.
"Crimson Moon Sword Technique: Sanguine Flow!"
The air seemed to hum with his movement, afterimages intertwining like threads of light. Kyle could feel his own skill growing, his sword becoming an extension of his very being.
10. Lunar Veil
He shifted to defense, practicing evasive maneuvers while striking at invisible opponents. The sword moved in a protective arc, countering attacks before they could land.
"Crimson Moon Sword Technique: Lunar Veil!"
The form emphasized control, awareness, and seamless retaliation — a perfect balance of offense and defense. Kyle grinned. He had never felt so connected to a weapon in his life.
11. Red Horizon
Kyle extended the sword outward, swinging with such speed and precision that the aura stretched in a long red streak, capable of hitting multiple targets in its path.
"Crimson Moon Sword Technique: Red Horizon!"
He practiced multiple swings, testing range and flow, imagining distant enemies succumbing to the strike. Each repetition reinforced his mastery over distance, power, and timing.
12. Moon's Judgment
Kyle's eyes narrowed, golden irises glowing like twin suns. He raised the sword high above his head, and the red aura burst outward, filling the sky. The clouds parted as if the heavens themselves had been rent by the power emanating from his blade.
"Crimson Moon Sword Technique: Moon's Judgment!"
With a single, fluid motion, Kyle swung the sword downward. The aura streaked into the heavens, splitting the sky itself in a streak of crimson light. The shockwave slammed into the mountain below, carving a massive scar and sending debris tumbling down the slopes. The red aura pulsed violently, leaving the world visibly altered, a testament to the sheer destructive force of his ultimate form.
Kyle landed gracefully atop the cliff, chest heaving with exhilaration. The aura retracted slowly, leaving only faint traces of red light along the path of the strike. His golden eyes gleamed with satisfaction.
"The Red Moon Sword Technique… complete. Moon's Judgment… perfected."
He looked at the split mountain and the riven sky, a grin spreading across his face. The power within him, the sword, and the crimson moon above — they were one. And Kyle knew, without a doubt, that nothing in Academy Lyoner would be able to stop him.