The morning sun filtered through half-closed blinds, casting striped shadows across the cluttered bedroom. Empty energy drink cans littered the desk beside a state of the art gaming pod, its sleek white surface gleaming despite the chaos surrounding it. Cid Raimon stirred beneath his blanket, one arm dangling off the edge of his bed, his black hair a tangled mess against the pillow.
Bzzt. Bzzt.
His phone vibrated against the nightstand. He ignored it. The device continued its insistent buzzing until finally falling silent. Moments later, footsteps approached his door.
"Cid." His mother's voice came through the wood, gentle but firm. "Breakfast is ready."
"Not hungry," he mumbled into his pillow.
A pause. Then a sigh he had heard a thousand times before. "You have school today."
"I know."
The footsteps retreated down the hallway. Cid rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling where glow in the dark stars had long since lost their luminescence. They were remnants from a childhood he barely remembered, from a time when he cared about things beyond the digital realm that now consumed his every waking thought.
He sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes. The clock on his wall read seven fifteen. He had maybe three hours of sleep. Worth it though. Last night's raid had been incredible. His lance had pierced through the corrupted wyvern's hide like butter, the creature's death screech echoing across the volcanic wasteland as his party members cheered through voice chat. People he had never met. People whose real names he did not know. People who felt more real than anyone in this house.
Cid shuffled to his desk and tapped the pod's control panel. The display flickered to life, showing his statistics from the previous night's session. Level eighty-three. Seven thousand gold pieces earned. Reputation with the Silver Dawn faction increased to Honored. His username, Grimlord, sat at the top of the screen in bold crimson letters.
He smiled. It was a small thing, barely noticeable, but it was there.
The pod itself was beautiful. He had saved for months to afford it, taking on odd jobs around the neighborhood, tutoring younger kids in subjects he barely cared about, anything to scrape together enough money. The older model he had used before, a standard VR headset, could not compare to this. The full immersion pod made Apocalypse Online feel real in ways that defied description. When he wielded his lance in the game, he felt the weight of it. When rain fell in the digital world, he felt the drops against his skin. When monsters roared, the sound reverberated through his bones.
It was better than reality. Cleaner. Made more sense.
He got dressed mechanically, pulling on his school uniform without thought. Navy blazer, white shirt, dark slacks. The same outfit hundreds of students wore at his high school here in Queens. He had moved to New York with his family when he was twelve, his father's job bringing them across the ocean from Osaka. Five years later, Cid still felt like a stranger in both places. Too Japanese for America. Too American for Japan. Caught between two worlds, belonging to neither.
But in Apocalypse Online, none of that mattered. Grimlord was just Grimlord. A warrior. A protector. A legend.
The kitchen smelled of miso soup and grilled fish. His mother stood at the stove, her back to him as she prepared lunch boxes. His father sat at the table reading news on his tablet, his reading glasses perched on his nose. His younger sister, Yuki, was texting someone, her thumbs moving at lightning speed across her phone screen.
"Good morning," his mother said without turning around.
"Morning."
"You look tired."
"I'm fine."
She placed a bowl of rice in front of him along with the soup and fish. He ate without tasting it, his mind already back in the game. There was a new dungeon opening today. The Crimson Sepulcher. Rumors on the forums suggested it dropped legendary tier equipment. If he could get his hands on even one piece, his power would skyrocket.
"Are you listening?" His father's voice cut through his thoughts.
Cid looked up. "What?"
"I asked if you had finished your college applications."
"Still working on them."
His father frowned. "The deadline is approaching. You need to take this seriously."
"I am taking it seriously."
"No, you are taking that game seriously. There is a difference."
Here it comes, Cid thought. The lecture. The disappointment. The endless questions about why he could not just be normal.
"Your father is right," his mother added, finally turning from the stove. "You spend too much time in that pod. It is not healthy."
"Plenty of people play Apocalypse Online. It is the most popular game in the world."
"That does not make it good for you."
Yuki snorted, not looking up from her phone. "At least I have friends in real life."
"That is enough," their father said sharply. He turned back to Cid. "We are not saying you cannot play. We are saying there needs to be balance. When was the last time you went out with friends? When was the last time you did anything besides school and that game?"
Cid set down his chopsticks. "I am doing fine. My grades are fine. I am not bothering anyone. Why does it matter how I spend my free time?"
"Because you are our son and we worry about you."
The words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning. They worried because they did not understand. They worried because to them, his life looked empty. They could not see what he saw. Could not feel what he felt when he logged in and became someone important. Someone powerful. Someone who mattered.
"I have to go," Cid said, standing abruptly. "I will miss the train."
He grabbed his bag and left before they could protest.
The subway ride to school was a blur of fluorescent lights and garbled announcements. Cid stood near the doors, earbuds in, scrolling through the Apocalypse Online forums on his phone. The community was buzzing with excitement about today's update. New zones. New bosses. New opportunities.
A post caught his eye. It was from someone named Phoenix_Blade, one of the top players on the North American server.
"Heard Grimlord is running the Sepulcher today. That guy is insane. Carried my entire guild through the Rotting Depths last week. Legend."
Cid felt a flutter of pride. Recognition. Validation. These people knew him. Respected him. In their world, he was somebody.
School passed in a haze. Teachers talked. Students whispered. Bells rang. Cid sat through it all like a ghost, present but not really there. His mind wandered to builds and strategies, to the feel of his lance connecting with enemy flesh, to the rush of victory when a boss finally fell.
During lunch, he sat alone in the library, eating a sandwich while watching gameplay videos on his phone. Other students clustered in groups around the cafeteria, laughing and talking, but Cid had learned long ago that forcing himself into those circles only made the loneliness worse. Better to embrace the solitude. Better to invest in something that gave back.
The final bell could not come soon enough.
He practically ran to the subway station, his heart pounding with anticipation. Today was going to be epic. He could feel it. The pod was waiting. The game was waiting. His guild members were already online, their messages flooding his phone.
SteelFang99: "Yo Grim, you ready for this?"
HealerQueen22: "Got my buffs prepared. We are going to crush this dungeon."
ArchMagePyro: "Loot council rules apply, yeah? Need that staff if it drops."
Cid typed back quickly as he boarded the train.
Grimlord: "Ready. Meet at the Sepulcher entrance in twenty minutes."
The ride home felt eternal. Every stop seemed to last twice as long as usual. Every delay made him want to scream. When he finally burst through his apartment door, his mother called out from the kitchen.
"Cid? Is that you?"
"Yeah. Homework," he lied, already heading to his room.
He locked the door behind him and tossed his bag aside. The pod beckoned. Beautiful. Perfect. Escape.
Cid stripped down to his underclothes and climbed inside, the padded interior conforming to his body as the lid hissed shut. Darkness enveloped him. Then came the familiar hum of the system booting up, the neural interface syncing with his brainwaves.
A menu appeared in his vision, glowing blue text floating in the void.
APOCALYPSE ONLINE
LOGIN
SETTINGS
EXIT
He reached out mentally and selected LOGIN.
The world dissolved.
When sight returned, he was no longer Cid Raimon, seventeen year old high school student from Queens. He was Grimlord, level eighty-three Lancer, hero of the Silver Dawn, protector of Thornwick Village and Ashford Keep. His armor gleamed in the virtual sunlight, black and crimson plates etched with runes of power. His lance rested against his shoulder, its tip crackling with latent energy.
Around him, the city of Valorhold sprawled in all its glory. Players rushed past, some riding mounts, others teleporting in bursts of light. Merchants hawked wares from colorful stalls. Quest givers stood marked with golden exclamation points above their heads. The air hummed with magic and possibility.
"Grim!" A massive figure approached, clad in full plate armor and wielding a sword nearly as tall as he was. SteelFang99. A tank. A good one.
"Fang," Grimlord acknowledged with a nod.
"The others are already at the Sepulcher entrance. HealerQueen is bouncing off the walls with excitement. Pyro's been theory crafting boss mechanics for the past hour. You know how he gets."
"Let us not keep them waiting then."
They made their way through the city, past the fountain in the central plaza where newbies gathered to trade and form parties. Grimlord remembered being one of them once, back during the beta test. He had been among the first thousand players to experience Apocalypse Online, back when it was rough and unpolished. He had watched it grow. Helped shape it through bug reports and feedback. The developers even sent him a thank you letter and early access to the immersion pod.
Those early days felt like ancient history now.
The Sepulcher entrance loomed at the edge of the Blighted Wastes, a massive obsidian doorway carved into the side of a mountain. Purple energy crackled across its surface, and the air around it felt thick with malevolence. Other parties gathered nearby, buffing and strategizing, their voices overlapping in a cacophony of excitement.
HealerQueen waved frantically when she spotted them, her white and gold robes billowing despite the lack of wind. ArchMagePyro stood beside her, staff planted in the ground, his avatar's eyes glowing with arcane power.
"About time," Pyro said, though his tone was light. "Thought you were going to make us wait forever."
"Traffic," Grimlord replied simply.
They spent the next few minutes going over the plan. Fang would hold aggro. HealerQueen would keep everyone alive. Pyro would handle area damage. Grimlord would focus on single target burst, taking down priority enemies before they could cause problems. Standard composition. Standard tactics. They had done this a hundred times before.
"Everyone ready?" Grimlord asked.
Three confirmations came through voice chat.
They stepped through the doorway together.
The dungeon interior was everything the forums had promised and more. Twisted corridors lined with bones. Chambers filled with writhing shadows. Enemies that hit like trucks but fell to coordinated assault. They pushed deeper, pulling carefully, executing mechanics perfectly. This was what Grimlord lived for. The challenge. The teamwork. The rush.
Hours passed. They cleared boss after boss, accumulating loot and experience. HealerQueen got new bracers. Pyro snagged an amulet that increased his critical strike chance. Fang obtained a shield that could absorb magic damage. Grimlord earned a new lance, black as midnight with a blade that seemed to drink in light.
"Holy crap," Fang breathed when Grimlord equipped it. "That thing looks sick."
"Legendary tier," Pyro confirmed, checking its stats. "Dude, you are going to delete bosses with that."
Pride swelled in Grimlord's chest. This was worth it. All of it. The late nights. The arguments with his parents. The isolation. This moment right here made it all worthwhile.
They were preparing to engage the final boss when the announcement came.
A system message appeared in everyone's vision simultaneously, red text blazing across their screens.
EMERGENCY MAINTENANCE IN 30 MINUTES. ALL PLAYERS MUST LOG OUT. FAILURE TO LOG OUT MAY RESULT IN ACCOUNT SUSPENSION.
"What?" HealerQueen's voice cracked with disappointment. "We are right at the end!"
"Can we rush it?" Fang asked.
"Thirty minutes should be enough," Grimlord said, already moving toward the boss chamber. "Come on."
They pushed forward with renewed urgency. The final boss was a lich, a towering figure wrapped in tattered robes, wielding a scythe that could one shot anyone foolish enough to get hit. The fight was brutal. Mechanics came fast and unforgiving. HealerQueen burned through her mana potions. Fang died twice and had to be resurrected. Pyro nearly pulled aggro and wiped them all.
But Grimlord was flawless. His new lance sang through the air, each thrust precise and devastating. He danced between the boss's attacks, years of experience guiding his movements. When the lich finally fell, its death animation spectacular and dramatic, the entire party erupted in cheers.
Loot rained down.
"Yes!" Pyro shouted. "My staff! It dropped!"
They divided the spoils quickly, everyone satisfied with their hauls. Grimlord received a ring that boosted his agility and a cloak that granted invisibility for ten seconds once per day. Useful. Very useful.
"Good run everyone," he said as they made their way back toward the dungeon exit. "Same time tomorrow?"
"Definitely," HealerQueen agreed.
"Would not miss it," Fang added.
They emerged back into the Blighted Wastes just as another system message appeared.
EMERGENCY MAINTENANCE IN 5 MINUTES. PLEASE LOG OUT IMMEDIATELY.
"Guess that is our cue," Pyro said. "Later guys."
"Later."
One by one, his party members vanished, their avatars dissolving into streams of light as they logged out. Grimlord stood alone, looking out over the wasteland. In the distance, Valorhold's spires glowed against the darkening sky. Above, two moons hung in perfect symmetry, one silver and one gold.
He did not want to leave. Not yet.
But the timer was counting down. Three minutes. Two.
With a sigh, Grimlord opened his menu and reached for the logout button.
Before he could press it, everything went white.
The world screamed.
Sound and light and pain merged into something incomprehensible, something that should not exist. Grimlord felt himself being torn apart and put back together simultaneously. His vision fractured into a thousand pieces and reformed wrong. The ground beneath his feet became liquid, then solid again, then something else entirely.
And then, silence.
He stood in whiteness. Pure, absolute whiteness that stretched infinitely in every direction. No sky. No ground. Just void.
He was not alone.
Figures materialized around him, hundreds of them, thousands, avatars of every conceivable race and class. Warriors and mages. Rogues and healers. Elves and dwarves and humans and things that defied categorization. They appeared in clusters, popping into existence like bubbles rising in water.
Confusion rippled through the gathering crowd. Voices rose in question and concern.
"What happened?"
"Why can I not log out?"
"Is this part of the maintenance?"
"My menu is not working."
Grimlord tried his own menu. Nothing. The interface refused to respond. His heart began to pound, real fear creeping in for the first time since he had logged in. This was not normal. This was not right.
More players appeared every second. The crowd grew denser, more chaotic. Some people were laughing, thinking it was an event. Others were panicking, demanding answers that no one had.
He recognized faces in the crowd. SteelFang99 appeared nearby, his expression confused. ArchMagePyro materialized a few feet away, his staff clutched tight. HealerQueen stumbled into view, her eyes wide with uncertainty.
"Grim," she called out. "What is happening?"
He opened his mouth to respond but found he had no answer.
The whiteness stretched on forever, and the players kept coming.
Kept appearing.
Kept asking questions no one could answer.
And somewhere, far beyond this impossible space, in a bedroom in Queens, an immersion pod sat sealed and silent, its occupant trapped inside while the world outside burned with high voltage and grief.
But Cid Raimon did not know that yet.
None of them did.