Initiating Neural Scan... Warning: Anomalous Neural Patterns Detected Processing Real-World Parameters... Converting Life Experience to Talents... Notice: Exceptional Aptitude Found Welcome to the World of Ruin. Please select your character.
A robotic voice greeted me. Calm, mechanical, but with a touch of grandeur. Before me stood a massive catalog of classes, each one rendered in impressive holographic detail. The figures hovered before me, showcasing their unique equipment and combat styles in real time.
I scrolled through the list. It appeared that I could choose a class and an elemental affiliation. They would then combine to create a unique playstyle for the class. I played around with various options and the creations expanded to fill the space around me.
The Crimson Knight (Fire Knight).
A towering warrior clad in heavy armor that glowed like molten metal. His broadsword was twice the size of any normal weapon. Every swing of his blade crackled with fiery energy, leaving a trail of flames that scorched the air.
I mimicked his pose, making exaggerated swooshing noises. "Look at me, I'm the Crimson Knight! I solve all my problems by setting them on fire!" Rolling my eyes, I swiped left. Hard pass. Leave the fire and fury to the kids who still think bigger explosions equal better gameplay.
Next was the Shadow Priest (Dark Cleric).
Draped in dark robes, their face was obscured by shadows that clung to them like mist. Their chaotic magic could grant unimaginable strength to allies, or exact a terrible price. This dual-edged nature of their spells was both terrifying yet exhilarating.
It was kind of cool. Unfortunately, spellcasting just wasn’t my thing. Heroes in my favorite stories never sat in the back lobbing curses. They were on the front lines, sword in hand, protecting others.
In my heart, I already knew what I wanted so I decided to quit playing around and created it. My ideal choice, the Dark Knight (Dark Knight).
This was it. A warrior wrapped in sleek, jet-black armor that seemed to merge with the surrounding darkness. Where other knights clad themselves in bulky plates, the Dark Knight's armor was streamlined for speed and precision. Their blade glowed with dark energy, every swing leaving trails of shadow in its wake.
I grinned. This was perfect. I’ve always had a soft spot for dark gloomy edgelords, and the Dark Knight practically screamed my name.
I reached out and selected it.
Denied
I blinked in shock. Huh? Denied? My face rippled with confusion. I stared at the message again and again. Was this some kind of glitch? I selected it once more, this time tapping it with more insistence.
Denied
I tapped the selection again, irritated. The room dimmed, displays flickering out one by one until only a faint blue glow remained. The familiar hum of the game system died, leaving behind a silence that made the hair on my neck rise.
Then, a soft, sultry voice broke the silence.
"My… my… what do we have here…?"
She materialized from the shadows. Tall and elegant, with a face that made smart men do stupid things. The pipe between her painted lips trailed wisps of smoke that seemed to dance through the air.
She sauntered up to me, her hips swaying like a pendulum. Her deep blue eyes studied me with unsettling focus, numbers seeming to scroll across them like data on a screen. Her smile widened ever so slightly, as if she'd just confirmed something interesting.
“How very interesting,” she purred. “The numbers don’t lie. A once-in-a-generation genius... Your talents in the real world have made you quite exceptional here... it would be such a waste to let your potential rot on a mere physical class."
She blew a puff of sweet smoke into my face. My mind grew hazy, protests dying in my throat before they could form. It was easier to let her continue.
“Your Intelligence stat is off the charts. SSS++. In all my years monitoring, I've never seen such potential.” She threw me another suggestive look as if impressed by my stats, “No, no, no... forget the knights. You simply must select a magical class. The Mage, master of the arcane; the Warlock, commander of eldritch power; the Shadow Priest, wielder of forbidden knowledge." Her voice dropped to a seductive whisper. "Or perhaps... a Necromancer. Just imagine the armies you could command with an intellect like yours."
I felt my hand twitch, inching toward her choices. But then...
Wait. No.
I blinked, irritation clearing my head faster than any antidote. Nobody dictates how I play my games.
“Nah,” I shot back. “I don’t play casters. "Magic's cool and all, but nothing beats the satisfaction of a good sword swing.”
Ignoring her, I reached out to select the Dark Knight again, jabbing the button insistently.
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Denied
Her chuckle was soft, teasing. “Oh, you are intriguing... but fate is unavoidable.” She moved behind me and laid her arms on my shoulder. She leaned in close, her lips dangerously close to my ears.
“The Demon King,” she whispered. Her lips brushed my earlobes. “That is your destiny. The ultimate caster, able to summon legions of demons, bending them to your will. You are meant to command armies, to reshape the very world itself.”
Her hand shifted downwards to grab mine, squeezing it. “Just think about it, you could have anything you desire." Squeeze. "All that power, waiting. And you'd rather swing a sword? Fulfill your potential. Choose a magic class.”
For a moment, I hesitated. Her words stirred up a deep desire within me. I saw myself on the throne of a dark castle, its spires piercing the crimson sky like obsidian spears. Armies of demons bowed before me, their forms twisted and beautiful, each one bound to my will.
It was intoxicating. Addictive. But it wasn’t me. My destiny wasn't hers to decide.
“Sorry, lady,” I pulled my hand away with a grin.
“Rule number 1.
Personal space. Hands off the merchandise.
Rule number 2.
You obviously don't know who I am if you think mere concepts like fate or destiny can stop me.”
That got her. Her seductive smile slipped; her perfect composure shattered. She wasn’t used to players who didn't follow her script.
I enjoyed the last moments of her confusion before yanking the VR headset from my head. The game faded, leaving me back in my dimly lit basement. Here, I was greeted by the familiar hum of fans and the greenish glow of my monitors. It was time to get to work.
Lines of code streamed across the monitor as I decompiled the game’s executable file. Some might call it cheating, but hey, if they didn't want me picking Dark Knight, they shouldn't have put it in the game. Besides, the real fun wasn't just playing the game.
It was breaking it.
Found it.
try {
bool eligible = check_eligible(User) ;
if (eligible) {
cout << "Class Selected : " + User.class ;
} else {
throw (eligible);
}
}
catch (int myNum) {
cout << "Denied";
}
This was the block of code blocking me from selecting the Dark Knight. How amateur. I grinned. They hadn’t even implemented anti-cheat. This was too ez.
My fingers glided across the keyboard, replacing the check with a continue instruction. This elementary trick told the program to do nothing when it encountered that block of code. The block would be skipped, and the Dark Knight would be mine. A few more keystrokes and the patch was compiled into a DLL, ready to be inserted into the game’s running process. Their "destiny" was about to meet my memory injection.
I leaned back, the glow of the screen reflecting off my glasses as I admired my work. The lines of code blurred into a satisfying haze of victory. Maybe I really was a genius.
But then something caught my eye. A folder buried deep in the game’s assets, hidden beneath layers of encryption. It had been well hidden. A lesser-trained eye might not have spotted it. But I wasn’t just anyone.
“Secret Classes” the folder was labeled.
I was intrigued and couldn’t resist clicking it.
Inside was a list of one-of-a-kind classes. A collection of legendary roles that would shape the very story of the game. Each description read like a prophecy, complete with cryptic requirements and warnings.
"The Demon King, destined to lead hell's armies."
"The Doomsinger, whose voice would herald the end times."
"The Flame Monarch, born to burn the old world away."
The Goddess of Death, The Sky Knight, The -- okay, enough.
Maybe it was my Gen Z attention span, but my eyes glazed over as I scrolled through the increasingly dramatic descriptions.
Then one entry caught my eye.
“Knight of the Night”, or Night’s Knight.
I clicked the description:
The chosen warrior of legend, destined to defeat God and return night to the lands.
My heart skipped a beat. Like the Dark Knight, it promised power wrapped in shadow. But this was something transcendent. A class shrouded in prophecy. Exclusive. Legendary. The chosen one...
Yeah. This had my name written all over it.
The requirements were insane. Level 99 in a warrior or knight-type class and a brutal quest chain. But I wasn’t interested in grinding for months to meet those requirements. I had another plan. If I could spoof the network packets, and switch the class ID to match the Night’s Knight, I might be able to convince the game servers to select this as my opening class.
"The plan took shape in my mind. I cracked my knuckles, then got to work. Packet sniffing showed the class selection was a simple HTTP POST request. No encryption, no token validation, not even a basic checksum. Amateurs. I isolated the class ID parameter and started crafting my own request. They probably thought hiding the legendary classes would be enough security. Rookie mistake."
Back in the VR, I loaded the game, my heart racing as the connection synced with the server.
Class selected: Knight of the Night
The woman was still there, but now her sultry confidence was gone, replaced with a look of shock that made my inner troll smile.
“What… how…? That’s impossible.” She hissed.
I leaned back, a smirk playing at the corners of my mouth. "Impossible? Nah. Just needed the right patch."
"Impossible. That class was hidden." Her fist clenched at her side. "How did you bypass it?"
"Pro tip - obfuscate your code next time." I openly taunted her. "I should thank you. If you hadn't tried to stop me, I never would've found this class."
"What a waste." Her voice dripped with disgust. "You could have been the strongest Demon King in history. Instead, you choose to be a mediocre knight. Why?”
... It was a good question.
“I only play knights.”
The real answer was deeper, buried somewhere between childhood dreams and a tortured past. But she didn't need my life story. Sometimes the simple answer works best.
“Enjoy your hollow victory while it lasts.” Her voice turned to ice. “Do you really think wearing his armor makes you the Night's Knight? That a title alone grants you his power?”
Before I could respond, she gave a final sigh before fading away.
“It was never meant to be you.”
Her final words stung more than they should have.
The words echoed in the silence, and something stirred in my chest. Not just defiance, but certainty. For a moment, I was that kid again, surrounded by voices saying I'd never amount to anything. The system, that woman … even that man… they all thought they knew what I should be. But that was then.
"Maybe not," I said to the empty room. But I’ll show them. I’ll show them all. The legend of Noctus Equitus, the Knight of the Night.