The screen went dark again. Gentle music played, like the opening of a hopeful new adventure. A painful irony considering the trash class he'd just gotten.
"Character creation complete. Welcome to Atlas Fall Online."
"Spawning at Beginner Village..."
Blinding white light forced Ian's eyes shut. When he opened them, the empty white room was gone.
He stood on a dirt road surrounded by wooden houses with thatched roofs. A bright blue sky stretched overhead, so clear he could see white clouds drifting slowly. A gentle breeze carried an unfamiliar but calming scent across his face.
Ian raised his hand slowly, touching his own cheek. The texture of his skin felt distinct under his fingertips. Everything felt real.
"Holy shit..."
He stepped forward. Dust from the road felt rough under his shoes, like fine, slightly damp sand. NPCs walked back and forth on both sides, carrying baskets, pushing wooden carts, or sitting on porches chatting. Everything moved naturally, without the stiffness typical of games.
Ian kept walking until his nose caught something sweet.
A small wooden cart sat at the roadside with thin smoke rising from a stone oven behind it. An old NPC in a flour-covered white apron was pulling bread from the oven with a long wooden spatula.
Ian approached without thinking. The loaves were golden brown, slightly puffed, still hot with thin steam rising from their surface.
And the smell...
Ian breathed deeply.
Wheat bread. Warm. Slightly sweet. Like the bread his mother used to buy from the shop near home when he was young, before everything got difficult.
"This is really just a game?"
The aroma was clear and vivid, not mere suggestion or imagination, but something real entering his nose, triggering memories, making his stomach rumble.
Ian closed his eyes briefly, savoring the sensation.
So this is what people mean by second world.
For a moment, he forgot the pathetic Explorer class, the debt, the odd jobs, and all the burdens he'd left behind.
But the moment didn't last.
Ian opened his eyes and continued walking. The village market bustled with NPCs selling vegetables, meat, and adventure supplies. Other players rushed past with excited faces, laughing with friends or discussing strategy while checking their status.
At the end of the main road stood a building different from the others. Stone walls with a large wooden sign reading "TRAINING BARRACKS" above the gate.
The sounds of impacts and shouts came from inside. Ian peeked through an open window.
Dozens of players practiced on training dummies made of straw and wood. Swords, axes, magic staffs. Each hit produced damage numbers above the dummy. 15! 22! 18! They shouted excitedly with every strike.
Something twisted in Ian's chest. Envy, Or frustration.
They must've gotten good classes.
He pushed the gate, but a large hand stopped him.
"Halt."
An NPC guard in plate armor stood before him. Massive build, face flat as carved stone, eyes expressionless.
"You are not permitted entry. This barracks is for combat classes only." The guard glanced at Ian briefly. "You are not a combatant."
Ian froze. The words felt like a slap.
"But—"
"Unless you bring 100 Slime Cores. That would prove you worthy of entry, regardless of class."
"100 Slime Cores?"
"Yes. Slimes are the weakest monsters in this area. If you cannot even collect 100 of their cores, you have no business here."
The guard shut the gate in Ian's face.
100 Slime Cores.
Fine. Slimes are the weakest monsters in every game. Should be easy.
Ian left the village for Meadow Plains, a level 1-5 hunting area shown on his interface map.
Green grass stretched wide under the afternoon sun. A few other players hunted in the distance, but the area wasn't crowded. Most were still in the village finishing tutorial quests.
Ian walked until he found one.
A small blue creature shaped like a blob of jelly, hopping slowly among the grass with movements that were honestly... cute.
Ian opened his inventory and pulled out his only weapon. A Wooden Sword gifted by an NPC at spawn. Worn and looking like a child's toy.
Gripping it tightly, Ian approached.
Okay. Just slash, slime dies, take the core. Simple.
Ian ran close and swung with all his strength.
THWACK!
The sword hit. The creature was thrown slightly to the side, but didn't die. Instead it hopped back toward him, jiggling like jelly.
Ian attacked again and again
The slime stayed alive, its HP bar decreasing bit by bit, like chipping at rock with a plastic spoon.
"What the hell?!"
His sword kept swinging.
His breathing grew ragged, arms aching.
Finally, after nearly five minutes, the slime exploded into blue droplets and left a small crystal on the ground.
[You obtained: Slime Core x1]
Ian collapsed, gasping. Even virtual sweat dampened his forehead.
"Five minutes for one slime. I need a hundred. That means..." Quick calculation. "More than eight hours. Fuck."
But he had no choice. Whatever it was, he needed to prove something.
Ian stood and searched for the next slime.
His first death came while finishing the second slime.
Too focused on attacking, he didn't notice two others hopping from behind. They hit him simultaneously. THUD! THUD! His thin HP bar instantly depleted.
The screen went black.
[YOU DIED]
[Respawning at Beginner Village...]
Ian reappeared in the village center with an empty expression, standing motionless for five seconds.
"I died to slimes?"
Barely a whisper.
But then something ignited in his eyes.
"No way I'm losing to those things."
Ian ran back to Meadow Plains.
And died again. And again.
Third death from a side attack. Fifth from running out of stamina mid-fight. Seventh because he thought he could take three at once.
Every respawn, Ian ran back immediately without rest. Just anger and the desire not to lose.
Until finally, on his eleventh death, Ian started to notice.
These slimes have the same attack pattern.
They always hopped after three seconds of stillness. Jump distance always the same, about two meters. After landing, they needed one second to charge before hopping again.
Ian started counting the timing. Attack twice, step back, wait for the jump, attack when they land.
Slowly, he died less often.
His hands grew accustomed to sword swing timing. His feet learned safe distances. His eyes could predict when slimes would strike.
Ian didn't even realize he was smiling faintly, not from joy, but from total focus that made him forget everything else.
He was finishing slime number twenty-two when—
"Rental time remaining: 5 minutes."
The mechanical voice shattered his concentration like lightning. Ian stopped mid-swing.
Opening the menu. One hour forty-seven minutes gone. Five minutes left.
Only twenty-two cores collected. Still needed seventy-eight more.
Ian wanted to continue, wanted to keep hunting, but he knew if time ran out, he'd be auto-kicked and his save corrupted.
Reluctantly, Ian opened the menu and pressed logout.
"Are you sure you want to logout?"
"YES / NO"
His finger hovered over YES, unable to press. Not now. Not when he was just starting to understand proper combat.
Just extend the time. Easy, right?
Ian opened the rental menu.
"Extend rental time? 500 won/Hour"
"Current available slots: 0"
Zero?
Ian yanked off the headset. The capsule's bright light blinded him. He blinked several times, adjusting to the real world that suddenly felt less real than what he'd just left.
He ran downstairs.
The same receptionist still sat there, still chewing gum boredly.
"Any open slots?"
She didn't look up. "All full. Weekends are always packed. Want to book tomorrow?"
"Now. I need it now."
"Well, there isn't any." She finally looked at Ian with a flat stare. "If you want to wait, earliest is an hour from now. No guarantee though."
Ian stood there, fists clenched.
One hour.
But he had to go home. Mom was waiting for dinner. He also promised to buy things at the convenience store.
"What time do you open tomorrow?"
"Eight AM."
Ian nodded slowly, then turned and left.
The trip home felt longer than usual.
Ian walked with hands in pockets, head down. The streets grew crowded with commuters. Building lights flickered on one by one.
But Ian didn't care.
Only one thing filled his head: those damn slimes.
Twenty-two cores. Still needed seventy-eight.
Tomorrow had to hit the capsule at eight AM sharp. But tomorrow I have a loading job at six. Done earliest by noon. So I can play in the afternoon...
He shook his head, trying to focus. But his thoughts kept returning to that game. To the peaceful village. To the warm bread aroma. To the annoying slimes that somehow made him curious.
Ian stopped at the convenience store and bought the usual items. Instant noodles, eggs, cheap vegetables, soap.
Walking out, his hand reached into his pocket and touched something.
The ID card.
Ian stared at it under the streetlight.
Trash class. Died over twenty times. Slow progress.
Why do I still want to go back?
But he knew the answer.
Because for the first time in a very long time, he felt something besides exhaustion and despair.
A challenge. Something he could fight. Something that maybe, just maybe, he could win if he was stubborn enough.
Ian slipped the card back into his pocket and continued home.
Tomorrow he would return.