When I cracked my eyes open in the morning, it felt like a goddamn space freighter had rolled over me. My arms were numb, my back ached, and my head was stuffed with cotton. Was it because I stayed up late counting stars in my Galactic Games pod, or had my bed's springs finally given up the ghost? Couldn't tell. I nudged the blanket aside; in the dim light of my room, the old physics Olympiad posters on the wall seemed to glare at me like, "Get up, you lazy bum!" In my head, I groaned, Five more minutes, c'mon, but my body had already waved the white flag.
I fumbled for my phone under the pillow. When I lit up the screen, it was a notification desert—no oasis in sight. Not even a peep from Yuan, and that guy usually spams memes at 3 a.m. I checked my messages; the "This game is insane!" I'd tossed into the group chat last night was met with radio silence. What, is everyone asleep, or are they just ignoring me? I wondered. Then I glanced at the time, and my blood froze: 11:32. "HOLY SHIT!" I yelled, my voice bouncing off the walls. School had started hours ago! My physics teacher's snarky "Late again, Chen, and you're marked absent!" echoed in my skull.
I shot out of bed like a rocket, flinging my pajamas to the floor and grabbing my school uniform. Buttons went into the wrong holes, the zipper on my pants jammed—whatever, who cares? My brain was in full "Run, Haoyu, run!" mode. I bolted toward the kitchen, planning to snatch a couple of tangerines from the counter and stuff them in my bag. But then, right in the middle of the table, I spotted a note in my sister's messy handwriting. Yuki's signature pink pen, scrawled on some flowery paper:
"Bro, you're free from school today. Your teacher's sick, they called Dad this morning. YOUR SIS"
I froze, read it twice, then let out a slow grin. "Ohhh, hell yeah, talk about luck!" I said to myself. It was like a ton of bricks lifted off my chest. For once, the universe was on my side. I ripped off the uniform like it was cursed and dashed back to my room, slipping into my trusty, worn-out gray pajamas. The shirt's collar was a bit torn, the sweatpants had some mystery stains, but these clothes were like a second skin—pure comfort.
I decided to treat myself in the kitchen. Opened the fridge, and the smell of sucuk hit me like a warm hug. "Today, I'm the king," I muttered, grabbing a pan. I sizzled up some sucuk, cracked a few eggs—one yolk broke, but screw aesthetics, I was chasing flavor. The kitchen filled with the aroma of butter and spices; even the sound of cars outside couldn't ruin the vibe. I plopped down at the table and dug in, scarfing down my masterpiece. Part of me thought about checking the Galactic Games forums on my phone—maybe find some new quest tips, class builds, or a cool bloodline trick. But my hand didn't reach for the phone. That volcano of excitement bubbling inside me was screaming one thing: Get back in the game.One day off from studying won't kill me, huh?
I shut my bedroom door and half-assed making my bed—more like straightening the blanket, because who's got time to fold sheets? I grabbed the Galactic Games headset from my desk; its matte black surface felt cool in my hands, like it was whispering, "C'mon, Haoyu, back to the universe!" I sprawled on my bed, slid the headset on, and heard the faint click of cables. My heart raced—it's always the same thrill, like my soul's about to yeet itself into another dimension. I closed my eyes, and that familiar dizziness hit, then…
GALACTIC GAMES ONLINE
The headshet shivered, and boom—I was in the village square. The place was as chaotic as I'd left it: players hustling, NPCs droning on, and that weird salty-metallic smell in the air. But this time, I felt a different kind of buzz.
As my body materialized in a holographic shimmer, nobody batted an eye. Guess they're used to it by now—millions of players spawning in this shoebox-sized village like it's some Middle Eastern bazaar on steroids. I reappeared next to a bench in a park-like square outside a bar. This was the same bench where I'd scoped out the crowd before, kinda like Central Park, but with a sci-fi twist. Don't let the "village" name fool you—this place was a far cry from the massive platform I'd started on, but it still had tricks up its sleeve that Earth could only dream of. Still, there was this weird vibe, like we'd all been forced to adapt to this place overnight. The bar was built with materials that screamed old-school—like actual roof tiles—but most buildings topped out at four stories. It created this odd clash of old and new, like the village couldn't decide if it was a medieval hamlet or a futuristic outpost.
I pulled up my quests to get my bearings. There they were, unchanged: the wolf-hunting gig and that dinner with Cassie. For now, I zeroed in on the wolf quest. My task window flickered into view.
[Task Window]
Task Name: Minor Wolf Hunt
Task Type: Hunting / Supply
Description:
The Village Sheriff reports that due to the growing population and the guards' overstretched duties, the village's supply stocks are running low. Goods provided by the "United Empire" no longer meet demand. To support the village's resources, hunt 20 "Minor Wolves" in the wilderness outside the village.
Objective:
Hunt 20 "Minor Wolves."
Task Details:
Location: Wilderness surrounding the village (exact coordinates unspecified; rely on local knowledge).
Difficulty Level: Unrated (Minor Wolves are fast and agile but usually roam alone).
Recommended Equipment: Any class weapon.
Delivery: Bring 20 hunted Minor Wolves to the Village Sheriff.
The quest hadn't changed—same wolves, same number. I was sick of it. It felt like the system was spawning fresh wolves every night just to mess with me. "Screw it," I muttered. Today, I'd ditch this village and find some real action. But first, I needed fuel.
I plopped onto the bench again. It curved to fit my back like it was saying, "Chill, Haoyu." The square was buzzing, but nobody claimed this bench—either they were too busy grinding or just didn't care. A street vendor nearby was grilling something that looked like a hot dog but smelled like a mix of meat and some alien spice. "How much?" I asked. "2 points," I gave enough money for hot dog thing grabbed the hot dog thing. First bite was crispy, with a weird metallic aftertaste—like this planet's cuisine was trying to say, "We're almost Earth food, but not quite." Still, it hit the spot. Hungry Haoyu doesn't judge.
I saw some rich clan recuits .yeah, they thought they owned the galaxy. Another group was flexing hoes they'd nabbed from low-level quests. I was looking for something—maybe Yuan, maybe a solid crew to join. Deep down, a voice nagged, Don't go solo, Haoyu. This universe ain't a one-man show.
Munching on the hot dog, I clocked a four-person group across the street. I'd been watching them for ten minutes, and by the last bite, I knew: This crew's got something. I stood quietly, tossed the wrapper into a nearby recycling bin—yep, even the trash cans here glow with eco-friendly holograms—and started tailing them. Not too obvious, just blending into the crowd. Strategy, Haoyu, strategy, I told myself, feeling a bit like Han Xiao calculating his next move.
The group was four strong, each looking like they'd stumbled out of a low-budget Holowood flick. The leader—had to be the leader—had yellowish, thinning hair, balding in patches. His avatar was clearly his real self with some "upgrades"—eyebrows too perfect, jawline too sharp. But those bald spots? No hiding those. Total middle-aged uncle vibes, probably in his 40s, though his avatar screamed, "I'm a cool 30!" He strode like he owned the place, gripping a weird stick—was it a weapon or some quest item? No clue. His eyes flicked around with a "I'm the boss" swagger, but I caught a glint of panic, like he was thinking, What the hell am I doing in this game?
Next to him was a long-haired dude, wavy locks flowing like he'd paid extra for the hair physics. College grad vibes—22, maybe 23. His avatar was so good-looking, he'd have girls lining up in real life. The wind tossed his hair just right—did the system give him a special shader or what? He wore a dark green jacket, arms glowing with weird, luminous tattoos. Definitely picked a class, showoff, I thought. He walked with a smirk, like he knew all eyes were on him. In the real world, Yuan would lose his mind over this guy.
Then there was the mask guy—middle height, skinny, no clue if they were a dude or not. The mask was a masterpiece: black with a hand-painted red devil figure, detailed as hell. Total emo, I decided. I'd seen types like that IRL, always with earbuds, ignoring the world. The craftsmanship was nuts—either they had serious art skills or they'd snagged a crafting class in-game. Class skills or not, didn't matter; handiwork still had clout in this universe. They moved calmly, hands in pockets, but poised like they could whip out a blade any second.
Last was the girl. I said "small," but she was our age—16, maybe 17. The cute, petite type: big eyes, faint freckles, and a face that looked like it was always about to smile. Her avatar gave off this weird calm, like the village's chaos was her personal zen garden. Had to have picked a class—nobody radiates that kind of chill without some in-game juice. Maybe a support class, maybe something spiritual. Eyes kept drifting to her—some players whispered, "Should we recruit her?" But the bald guy's menacing vibe kept everyone at bay. His stick glowed for a second, and one player scurried off. Smart move, I thought.
I trailed them, sticking to the crowd's edges. They were headed to the village exit, toward the forest—probably done with wolf quests and hunting bigger game. Maybe that's my ticket, I thought. The hot dog's energy still pumped through me, and my inner physics nerd whispered, Calculate, Haoyu—how far can this crew take you? But there was that nagging fear: What if they're just noobs too? Still, I picked up the pace. This group, for better or worse, could be the start of something.
They'd stopped at the guard handing out the wolf quest. How'd I know? Just a hunch, but these guys weren't exactly bonding with the NPCs—they were all about the grind, eyes on the in-game cash. I memorized the bald guy's face to look him up on the forums later.
After a few minutes of chatter, they started moving toward the village gate. It was wide open; the crazy population had made the guards a bit lax. Worst case, there were millions of us cannon fodder to throw at any threat. I followed, keeping it low-key, slipping through the crowd like I was just another noob.
At the gate, they didn't flinch—no hesitation, no hassle. I kept my distance, tailing them as they stepped into the wild. Whatever they were chasing, I was along for the ride… for now.