Year 3500.
The sky was painted in a dull shade of ash. The city lay silent, like a giant corpse drained of its soul. No car horns, no people, no hope. Only the whistling wind cutting through crumbling skyscrapers—remnants of war, poverty, and promises no one believed in anymore.
Eiden—seventeen years old—stood before an old, rusted machine in the decaying heart of District 11. His eyes, clouded from days without sleep, still held a glimmer of something—not quite hope, maybe desperation shaped like opportunity.
"Reality Escape... First login, and maybe the last," he whispered, placing his hand on the biometric scanner. A cold, lifeless voice echoed.
> [New account detected. Scanning brainwave and biometric data.]
[Confirmed: No financial activity, no living relatives. Eligible for entry.]
[Warning: Death in-game will result in real-world death. Proceed?]
Eiden didn't hesitate.
"Start."
---
[Synchronizing...]
[Loading world...]
[Role assigned: Escaper – Scout]
[Skill branch: Illusionist – First skill: Phantom Clone]
The world exploded into blinding light. No pain, no fear—just the sensation of falling.
Then, he opened his eyes.
The wind brushed past his hair. In front of him stood an abandoned factory surrounded by arid hills. Strange sounds—metal scraping, hurried footsteps—echoed from every direction. A boy was rewiring a generator. A girl knelt beside an injured teammate. Far away, a shadow crept along the wall like a nightmare slithering from memory.
> [Match begins in 10 seconds. Escape the map or be hunted.]
[You are: ESCAPER.]
Eiden clenched his fists.
There was no turning back. No second chances.
He whispered—whether to calm himself or to swear an oath, even he didn't know:
"Illusions can save lives—if used at the right time."
And the game began.