This is hell.
Satoru slumped onto a small curb by the roadside, his head hanging low, dusty and disheveled. Beside him sat an Akita dog—no idea whose—keeping him company.
Through the curtain of his drooping bangs, he looked out at the dense crowd ahead. It was orderly enough, neat even, but that suffocating, pent-up sense of competition was what truly wore him down.
He tugged at the collar of his crew-neck shirt to let in some air.
In truth, it wasn't hot at all. If anything, it was slightly chilly, as if winter were approaching. The sky today was dim and overcast. If summer meant blazing sunlight and clear blue skies, then this murky gloom was the very image of late autumn edging into winter.
Even so, he rolled up the sleeves of his old, thin, zebra-patterned long-sleeve shirt.
Anyone who managed to squeeze their way out of that silent battlefield of a crowd would end up breathing a sigh of relief, like they'd just survived a disaster.
He let out another heavy sigh. His face looked worn, with dark circles under his eyes.
After all, he'd been preparing for this since the day before yesterday. Needless to say, the online stock had sold out instantly the moment it launched. As for physical stores, even before opening, they were already lined with a massive queue of hardcore grinders.
And in his hand was the prize itself: the VRMMORPG device, the NerveGear. A helmet-type unit, packed into a medium-sized box along with various cables and accessories. The cover featured an illustration—some adventurer boy holding a sword, smiling as he gazed up at the sky.
Like he was about to set off in search of an encounter.
Compared to that bright, hopeful image, his own crude, money-driven motives felt painfully grounded.
Thinking that, he tightened his grip on the bag.
Partly because it had cost him most of his savings… and partly because those still in line—those who might walk away empty-handed—were staring at him with eerie intensity. Like beasts spotting food under the moonlight. Or like bulky gym guys eyeing a frail newcomer.
Envy really is humanity's original sin.
Just like when he used to go to doujin conventions—after finally deciding to buy a book from a creator he liked, only to realize it wasn't about money but luck—he too would glare darkly at those lucky enough to get one.
Next to Satoru, aside from the Akita dog that kept staring at him, there was a group of players who had also secured their devices, happily taking photos together. Even reporters from NewGame had come by to do quick interviews. He glanced at the cheering crowd, shrugged, picked up his bag, and stood.
Well, there's still a lot to do. At least after more than two days of effort, I've finally secured my entry ticket.
After walking home, Satoru grabbed his greasy, messy hair and headed straight into the bathroom for a shower. After changing into a clean white T-shirt, he sat down at his desk, turning on the computer with one hand while picking up the latest gaming magazines with the other.
Click. He lit a cigarette and played a familiar song.
Shifting into a comfortable position, he leaned back and began his preparations at ease.
"Hmm… tips and tricks from closed beta players?"
He took a drag, narrowing his eyes as he skimmed the pages. The editor had even included simple terrain maps.
"The game world is a floating castle, climbed from bottom to top, with a total of one hundred floors?"
Compared to the usual multi-continent maps in other MMORPGs, this vertical progression was pretty novel.
But thinking about it… that also meant there was already a clearly defined endpoint.
Though they'd definitely release expansions later.
"Each floor has a different theme, so the terrain and monsters change accordingly. After several months of closed beta, players only made it up to the tenth floor."
Satoru paused.
The amount of information was, unsurprisingly, massive.
He felt a twinge of concern—whether he could really turn this into a source of income.
He didn't have any special talent for mastering virtual worlds. At best, he was just average at gathering information and planning strategies.
He spun his chair around, reached behind him, and grabbed the NerveGear. Slowly opening the box, he shook out a few bundles of black cables and lifted the helmet.
It looked like a motorcycle helmet, entirely black, with a solid, metallic weight to it. The dark visor reflected his stubbled chin.
Satoru raised an eyebrow, suddenly struck by a thought.
If the game simulated all physical movements… what would happen to those "female alt" players? Had they evolved from just voice mimicry into full-on acting? The fake shyness, the coy gestures… what a revolutionary leap.
Just the character customization alone could carry this game for a while.
Hmm… thinking about it, whoever made this really is a genius. What was the name again… Kayaba Akihiko?
A world-renowned researcher in a white lab coat—someone like that… he'd probably never meet in person.
A floating castle in the sky. Such a unique concept. Maybe it was just that guy's unrealistic fantasy? Then again, isn't that how researchers are? They imagine something, then try to bring it to life—and actually succeed. That's something to admire.
Satoru smiled faintly, stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray, and sighed again.
Compared to that, someone like me—who once dreamed of becoming Ultraman or Kamen Rider—has ended up accomplishing nothing.
He flipped a few more pages. There were supposedly screenshots from SAO: vast grasslands, endless deserts of yellow sand, deep ancient roads, dim forests…
If there were no visual enhancements, then the moment of opening one's eyes inside that world would truly be something to look forward to.
"Well then…"
He stood up and stretched, looking at the helmet and cables on the bed.
"I'll clean the room first, get some rest… and check it out when the servers open."
...
In 2022, humanity finally achieved a complete virtual space.
"Hello everyone! This week on MMOstream, let's start with a PV!"
From the livestream page on his computer, a female host spoke in an excited tone.
"First, let's take a look at this promotional video—it's from last week's launch, right?"
The screen switched to footage of massive crowds lining up.
"I heard the people at the front started waiting three days in advance. Amazing… or is that just normal for real players? Honestly, previous software never fully utilized the hardware—it was pretty underwhelming."
"Hey, hey, you're really saying that out loud… but yeah, I want it too. SAO."
"After all, with only 10,000 units available, those players are unbelievably lucky! It's already sold out online, and as you can see from that footage, the keys to the fantasy world have all been claimed by true warriors!"
"Hey, look—even that Akita dog is eyeing someone who got one!"
The banter between the host and guest continued from the speakers.
Meanwhile, one of those ten thousand "warriors," after all that effort, finished plugging in the final cable in his tiny rented room.
12:55.
He checked the time, then followed the manual, lying flat on the bed and gently putting on the helmet.
"Link… start."
The next instant, even with his eyes closed, he saw a brilliance beyond expectation—countless star-like fragments streaking past, as if he were traveling at incredible speed. Crisp system notifications chimed from all directions as panels unfolded before him.
Account Creation.
Please confirm your character name.
Still marveling at the technology, he hesitated for a moment. If he picked some cringeworthy, edgy name, it'd be awkward when people called him face-to-face later…
Yeah, better choose something that fits a fantasy world.
Swords and fantasy.
A sword…
He made his decision.
"Yurnero."
If he was bad at naming things, he might as well reuse a name from a discarded character.
After confirming, a brilliant white light engulfed him.
Moments later—
Sound slowly returned. Excited chatter, the faint chirping of insects and birds, footsteps overlapping one after another. A gentle breeze brushed against his face.
Even the air he breathed was no longer the stale, suffocating air of his cramped apartment—it was several times fresher, cleaner.
Satoru suddenly opened his eyes.
For a moment, he forgot to breathe.
Everything before him was completely detached from the harsh reality he struggled through daily—
It was a world that existed only in stories.
Solid marble beneath his feet. Towering, weathered city walls ahead. Under a vast, untouched blue sky, flashes of blue light continuously appeared, teleporting one "adventurer" after another.
His mouth parted slightly as he quickly turned his head, taking it all in, stunned.
It felt too real.
As if he had truly crossed from one world into another.
He looked down at his hands. Gone were his T-shirt and shorts—replaced by a beginner outfit of light leather and cloth. Only when he focused could he sense the faintest trace of something off.
A fantasy.
"Whoa! This totally lives up to the hype!"
Players at the spawn point were already shouting in excitement.
"Totally worth pulling an all-nighter in line!"
"Wait, I don't think I picked a class yet? Hey, anyone know how the class system works?"
Satoru clenched his fists and took a few tentative steps forward.
No resistance.
He smiled.
Then he broke into a run.