The woman flashes a weird smile this time and says,
"If you liked me that much, maybe we could have a drink together."
Right then, the system pops up a task in front of me like it's been waiting for this moment.
[Mission System Activated.]
[New Mission]
Mission: Dinner with Miss Cassie
Details: If Haoyu can impress Cassie, he'll score a shiny "Boyfriend Candidate" badge from her and +15 usable stat points. If he flops? Well, there's a chance Cassie will hit him with, "Big sis is telling you, next time I'll cut your tights!" and boot him from the date. Beep beep! Friendzone alert!
The task details are bugging me. When did this system learn to crack jokes? I wonder, but it's no use overthinking it. Honestly, the "boyfriend candidate" thing isn't exactly unappealing—I mean, if I pull it off, that'd be awesome, right? I drift into a quick fantasy in my head. It's enough to get my little soldier standing at attention, but thanks to the long shirt, my tights don't betray me with any obvious changes.
I don't know much about the value of stat points yet, but if it's anything like classic games, +15 is a pretty sweet boost. Still, the stats feel like a side prize—the real reward here is Cassie.
I lean in slowly, whispering in her ear with a sultry tone,
"I'll be there."
Cassie smirks, and with a flick of her wrist, she teleports me off the platform.
Suddenly, I'm standing in some weird-ass town. It's got nothing to do with the fancy platform I was just on—this place feels like it's stuck in the tech Dark Ages. Players are messing around, cracking jokes with each other, and some are already flirting with the in-game girls. Normally, in hyper-realistic games like this, there'd be some censorship barrier, but nope—this one lays it all bare, no filters. Right then, the system drops another notification.
[Mission Updated.]
Objective: Cassie's finishing up her long platform duty in about a month. No idea if she'll still be waiting for you, but you better not be late for that date!
"Hell yeah," I mutter to myself.
After the chaotic mess of Eu-De-Nova 202's massive platform, the system yeets me somewhere new, and I land in "Starting Village #47." The village looks like a technological scrapyard: half-organic, half-metal buildings, streets humming with energy lines, and a faint whiff of ozone in the air. I spot a bench and plop down. It looks basic, but as soon as I sit, it curves slightly to fit my back—Type I civilization perks, I guess. Even the crappiest furniture's got nano-comfort baked in. Nobody else is sitting; everyone's either running around or looting something.
The village square is a total circus. Players are bunched up in front of task-giving NPCs, trying—and failing—to keep the line orderly. One NPC, dressed like a villager, holds a holographic tablet and drones, "Harvest the crops, earn 10 points!" over and over in a monotone voice. Some guy in the queue pipes up, "Is there a hidden reward in this task?" but the NPC just repeats the same line. Classic AI move, I think to myself.
Off to the side, there are a few shops—a repair workshop or something, but instead of weapons in the window, they've got weird farming tools on display. A guard bot at the door, its armor faintly glowing with nano-coating, stands watch. One player asks, "How many points for this hoe?" The guard snaps, "Not for sale, task item." The guy grins and tries to sneak the hoe into his pocket, but the bot's arm shoots out and snags it back. The crowd cracks up, and I smirk, thinking, Nice try, buddy.
Some players are hunting for hidden quests. Two guys are whispering in a corner: "There's gotta be something in that villager NPC's dialogue tree." The other one shrugs, "Forget it, just grab a hoe and go!" Plenty of people are hoeing already—the mechanical hoes from the villagers chug with steamy engine noises, glowing with odd energy crystals on top. Probably a task reward, because one player tries to bolt with a hoe, only for the guard to teleport and flatten him. The system's watching you, dumbass, I think.
I let out a little chuckle. With all this chaos and nonsense around me, I can't help but feel like some old geezer sitting on a bench, watching the world go by. Haoyu, you're 16, why are you chilling like a tea-sipping grandpa? I tease myself. Scanning the crowd, it's easy to spot who's gonna rise to the top and who's gonna stay a noob. A group asks an NPC, "Can this hoe be upgraded?" No response. Of course not, idiots—this is a starter village. Want upgrades? Grind some points first, I think, acting like I've got it all figured out.
I'm not sure how long I've been sitting there, but watching the madness has taught me a lot.
First off, the hoe task barely gives any XP. Lame.
Guard tasks? The starting ones aren't worth the risk—your life's worth more than the payout.
Waiter gigs? Players aren't trusted enough for those yet.
Brothels? Way too pricey—one guy was wailing about it loud enough for me to overhear.
Nobody's found a way out of the village yet, but the old VR club vets are already teaming up with buddies, sniffing out secrets.
I ease up from my bench and head toward the guard recruiter who'd caught my eye earlier. This one's different—showing more emotion than the others, looking flustered and fed up with the players' crap. Tasks are definitely personalized here, because some people are already on their third guard mission. The rewards can't be that bad, right? They're suspiciously quiet about it, though. Or maybe I'm just paranoid.
"Hey there, sir," I say, strolling up. "Mind gracing me with your name?"
The guy puffs up a bit, clearly flattered, and grunts, "William."
"William, sir," I continue, laying it on thick, "I'm new to this village like most folks, but I reckon I need a job. Got any tasks lying around for a handsome, humble guy like me? I'm betting you'll hook me up with at least a little cash flow."
He puffs out his chest a bit more, a smirk creeping onto his face. His buddies shoot me looks like, Cut the ass-kissing, but I'm not stopping. What am I, stupid? Why would I let a money source slip away? I think.
William finally speaks:
"Well, well, you look sturdy, kid. As you can see, this little town's way more crowded than we expected. That means our guards are swamped. Point is, the 'United Empire'—the ones supplying this place—ain't got enough goods to go around anymore. How about you head out and hunt me 20 'Little Wolves'?"
And just like that, the system drops a task in front of me.
[Mission Window]
Mission Name: Little Wolf Hunt
Mission Type: Hunting / Supply
Description:
The Town Sheriff says the growing population and overworked guards have left the village's supply stocks running low. The 'United Empire' can't keep up with demand anymore. So, head out into the wilds around town and hunt 20 'Little Wolves' to bolster the village's resources.
Objective:
Hunt 20 'Little Wolves.'
Mission Details:Location: Wilds around the village (no exact coordinates—figure it out with local know-how).
Difficulty Level: Unrated (Little Wolves might be fast and nimble, but they usually roam solo). Suggested Gear: Any class weapon.
Delivery: Bring the 20 hunted Little Wolves back to the sheriff.
Rewards: William's gratitude. Possible extra supplies or local support (amount and type TBD).
I nod to accept the task, thanking William and tossing in a, "This favor won't go unrepaid down the line." He grins, clearly eating up the flattery, shakes my hand, and says he's glad to meet me.
Right then, the whole class-and-weapon thing hits me. I don't wanna pick some basic class off the bat—those choices tend to screw you over in endgame content. But I don't wanna sleep on any class either; even a "trash" one might have a killer skill tucked away. For now, I'll wait and see. Maybe I'll grab a profession instead—classes can come later.
Then it dawns on me: I've got no cash, and without picking a class, I can't buy a weapon. On a whim, I think, [Inventory], and the system pops up again.
[INVENTORY]
Starting General Gear Kit
Summary: The host tossed you a "Welcome, kid!" gift package with one item from each basic class. Guess your arrival really tickled their fancy—why else would they be this generous with a "survival pack"?
I'm done caring about the system's cheesy humor—it's so corny I almost gag. The moment I think to open it, the pack unwraps itself. Out pops a hoe, a tiny plasma sword, a shield, and a small map tablet.
A little wave of gratitude washes over me for the goodies, and I close the inventory. I strap the plasma sword to my waist—it fits perfectly, like my outfit was made for this starter vibe. No wrestling it into place needed. I skip the shield but grab the map tablet. It's not working yet, with a big [Activate Map] plastered across it. I tap it, and a warning covers the screen:
"The map is single-use. Are you sure?"
I hit No. The village is a dead-obvious sprawl right now—no need to waste it. I toss the map back into my inventory. If I stumble on some hidden spot later, I'll use it then.
I wonder who to ask about the task location. I consider the players first, but that doesn't sound fun. So I head straight for the first bar I see. It's huge inside, packed with players at the door. I wait in line for a bit before slipping in. Despite the crowd outside, it's weirdly empty inside—beers and rooms cost money, and security's chucking out anyone who lingers without spending. The bar feels straight out of real life. After the game's flashy intro, this village is leaning hard into that "backwater" vibe.
Before I get tossed out, I rack my brain for a plan to get info.
First idea: sit at someone's table. But most folks are decked out in full armor—adventurers, probably. I don't bother with them. Civilians are in pairs or groups, so joining's risky—if I don't win someone over, I'm out. Lone women are an option, but every guy in here's eyeing them like predators. Trouble's practically guaranteed.
I notice live music and check out the instruments. If I know how to play one, maybe I can use it as an excuse to get something going.
Then I spot it: an instrument that looks like a guitar. Before my mom slipped into a coma, she'd drag me from class to class. Little-kid me never got why, but I didn't care—she'd pull me out of anything I hated. That random luck left me with skills in over 10 instruments, 7+ sports, and a handful of languages.
So I wait for the song to end. When it does, I stroll up to the musicians like I'm just there to request a tune…