Hayato’s room was dim, the only light coming from a few fixtures on the walls near the ceiling, casting faint glows across the sparse furnishings. The small apartment had a sterile, almost monastic feel—just the way he preferred. At only 16 years old, Hayato lived alone, a situation unusual for someone his age, but one he had long since adapted to.

Hayato had fought with his father and left home. Despite already making money through his gaming activities, his father dismissed it as mere entertainment. Their arguments grew increasingly heated until the situation became unbearable, and Hayato chose to leave.

Despite his youth, he was entirely self-sufficient, earning more than enough to cover his living expenses through meticulous transactions and in-game trading. For Hayato, the real world was just a place to eat and sleep. His true life—the one that mattered—began when he sat in front of his triple monitor setup, where the boundary between reality and the virtual world blurred into insignificance.

He leaned back in his scorpion-shaped gaming chair, its mechanical arms poised like a sentinel guarding its master. The tail of the chair coiled gracefully around the VR headset, ready to immerse him in another realm at a moment’s notice. On the central monitor, an armored figure materialized, an avatar belonging to another player. The transaction was quick, efficient—no unnecessary conversation, just the exchange of goods and currency. "Payment done. I’ll count on you for the next delivery," the other player said, their voice distorted by the digital filter.

Hayato glanced at his phone, which buzzed softly on the desk beside him. A holographic dollar sign floated above the screen, confirming the transaction’s success. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Gaming wasn’t just a hobby for him—it was his livelihood, and he was exceptional at it.

He wasn’t just playing games; he was running a business. Hayato specialized in acquiring rare items, completing high-stakes missions, and providing services that other players were either too lazy or too unskilled to handle. He negotiated trades, managed multiple accounts, and kept track of fluctuating market prices in various games. His expertise allowed him to buy low and sell high, maximizing his profits with each transaction. These weren’t just digital assets; they were his currency, funding his rent, utilities, and food. Most people would find it strange—a teenager making a living off video games—but to Hayato, it was the most natural thing in the world.

But as he sat there, finger hovering over the disconnect button, he knew that today marked the end of one chapter and the beginning of another. "Sorry," he muttered to himself, "but this will be the last delivery."

The player on the screen, oblivious to Hayato’s thoughts, continued, "You too? Everyone’s jumping ship to that VWA game now."

Hayato’s gaze turned cold as he glanced at his reflection in the darkened monitor. "I have bills to pay, and Virtual World Awakening is going to be a gold mine. I can’t miss this opportunity. But if you need anything from there, just hit me up."

"Sure thing," the player replied. With a final click, the connection was severed, and the screen went black. The silence that followed was absolute, almost oppressive. For a moment, Hayato stared at the blank monitor, his mind a whirl of calculations and strategies. Tomorrow, everything would change.

Living alone at such a young age had its challenges, but Hayato thrived on independence. He had no interest in the typical concerns of a teenager—school, friends, social status. Instead, his world revolved around strategy, efficiency, and profit. Relationships, in his experience, were liabilities. In the gaming world, he had contacts, not friends. It was simpler that way—less emotional baggage, less vulnerability.

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The shrill beep of his alarm clock the next morning tore him from a dreamless sleep. "Shut up… ugh, shut up!" he groaned, fumbling for the holographic display. His hand slammed into the nightstand with a dull thud, eliciting a yelp of pain. "Ow!" he hissed, pulling his hand back and nursing his bruised knuckles. There was no time for distractions—not today.

Seated at his desk, Hayato ignored the cold sandwich and lukewarm coffee beside him, his eyes fixed on the countdown timer displayed on the monitor. Bloodshot from the late-night grind, his eyes nevertheless burned with anticipation. As the numbers ticked down to zero, his pulse quickened. He donned his VR headset with the ease of long practice, the real world dissolving into pixels and code.

When the digital fog cleared, Hayato found himself standing in an expansive, picturesque field. The grass moved in sync with the virtual breeze, and a grand castle loomed in the distance, its spires piercing the sky. A cheerful message floated before him: "Welcome to Virtual World Awakening."

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

"Enough with the pleasantries," Hayato muttered, swiping the message away. His movements were fluid and precise, honed by years of experience in countless virtual worlds. He quickly bypassed the introductory cutscenes, narrative videos, and story prompts. This was all fluff—designed to captivate novices, not veterans like him.

Finally, the character creation screen appeared. The avatars flickered before him: hunter, mage, warrior. Hayato scrutinized each one with a critical eye. "Too weak," he dismissed the hunter with a flick of his hand. "Too fragile," he waved away the mage. The warrior’s heavy armor and shield barely registered. "Too slow."

Then the swordsman appeared—lean, agile, dual-wielding sleek blades. Hayato’s eyes narrowed with interest. "Perfect," he murmured, selecting the class without hesitation. He typed in the name "Raylight" and confirmed his choice.

The screen flashed white, but instead of immediate immersion, Hayato found himself waiting in a queue. A timer indicated a ten-minute wait—an expected delay given the game’s immense popularity at launch. Hayato leaned back, crossing his arms impatiently as the seconds ticked away. His foot tapped against the floor, the only outward sign of his impatience. He was used to waiting; this was just another hurdle.

Finally, the wait was over. The screen flashed again, and in the next instant, Hayato stood in the middle of a sprawling desert city.

Sun-bleached buildings surrounded him, and the streets were teeming with players, most of them engaged in frantic chatter or forming parties. Hayato observed the chaos with detachment. "Of all the places to start…" he thought, irritation creeping into his mind. This was the largest and most desolate of the starting zones, a place that most players would find daunting. But for Hayato, the isolation was an opportunity.

"Let them flock to the other zones, competing for scraps," he mused as he made his way toward the city gates. His movements were deliberate, his gaze calculating. In this world, just like in the real one, he would carve out his place through sheer will and skill.

As he neared the gates, a group of players caught his eye. They were fighting monsters near the entrance, but what interested him more were the orange names hovering above two of them—player killers. They glanced at him as he passed, their eyes assessing, but quickly returned to their hunt.

"PKing this early? They must be after easy targets," Hayato noted, making a mental note to avoid this gate on his return. "Better to steer clear for now."

The desert beyond the city stretched out endlessly, a vast expanse of sand under a blazing sun. Hayato began his hunt, targeting the giant scarabs that scuttled across the dunes. The creatures were formidable, their hard shells gleaming in the harsh light. But Hayato’s blades cut through them with precision, the edges glowing with energy as they struck. The realism of the game was startling—sand flew into his face when a swing missed, making him blink and cough.

"Didn’t expect it to be this immersive," he muttered, wiping his eyes. Despite the inconvenience, he relished the challenge. Soon, the scarabs were falling with ease, and the system notified him of his progress—level six. "Time to find better prey," he thought, scanning the horizon for something more challenging.

Atop a tall dune, Hayato spotted a lone player struggling against a much larger, golden scarab. The player, a gunner wielding twin pistols, was clearly outmatched, her health bar perilously low.

"A rare monster," Hayato thought, eyes narrowing. "That must drop something valuable."

Without hesitation, he approached, positioning himself between the gunner and the scarab. His mind was already calculating the best approach. "If I block her shots and she hits me instead, I can take them both out without any PK penalties."

The gunner noticed him, hesitating briefly. Hayato seized the opportunity, launching a swift, deadly attack on the golden scarab. His blades cut deep, and with a few expertly placed strikes, the creature fell. The loot window appeared, and Hayato wasted no time equipping the golden sword. Now dual-wielding, he turned to face the gunner, his expression inscrutable.

"I hope you don’t have any complaints," he said, his voice carrying a subtle undertone of menace.

To his surprise, the gunner smiled brightly. "Thank you so much! You really saved me!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with genuine gratitude.

Hayato blinked, momentarily caught off guard. "Huh? Did she not realize I just stole her kill and loot? Well, that’s less trouble for me."

"Don’t mention it," he replied, forcing a smile. "I saw you were in trouble and thought I’d lend a hand."

The gunner’s eyes sparkled with gratitude. "If you don’t mind… would you like to team up?"

Hayato’s smile faded, replaced by a cold, indifferent look. "Sorry, I only play solo. Nothing personal, it’s just my style," he said curtly, already turning away.

The gunner’s shoulders slumped in disappointment. "I see… Well, good luck! Maybe our paths will cross again."

Refocusing on his mission, Hayato resumed hunting scarabs, refining his dual-wielding technique. His movements were fluid, almost elegant in their precision. Each strike was calculated, the blades cutting through the air with deadly accuracy.

"The single sword style emphasizes mobility and close-range combat, but with dual swords, I can cover a greater area without sacrificing speed. If I could integrate both styles… that would be ideal," he mused, his mind already planning his next steps.

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Later, as he returned to the city, Hayato spotted the gunner sitting alone on a bench. The light in her eyes had dimmed, replaced by a vacant, defeated expression.

"Exactly what I expected," Hayato thought, a small, satisfied smirk playing on his lips. "She’s too weak to survive in this world. One death was all it took to break her."

Without a word, he walked past her, his thoughts already on the next challenge. In this world, there was no room for the weak. It was every player for themselves—and that was exactly how he liked it.