The 1,000th Prayer
Real World was a game that mirrored reality. Not 100% perfectly identical, but the abilities players chose in the game were mostly similar to those in real life. That's why so many people—especially those who hadn't awakened—played Real World to fill the void of not awakening. They'd jerk off to the fantasy of having a great power in the game, pretending they'd awakened and were saving the world. And honestly, it was plenty immersive. The maps were a 1:1 scale of Earth, and most of the rifts that appeared were pulled straight from reality. Plagiarism complaints were rampant, but the developers just shrugged: "If you don't like it, make your own."
They had a point. Anyone could do it. Supernatural phenomena like awakenings, rifts, and monsters—stuff science couldn't explain—had no copyright. If you had the skills to gather that info and turn it into a game, you could rake in the cash. Real World alone pulled in tens of trillions worldwide annually.
Because of that, items traded hands for hundreds of millions, sometimes billions, and methods to acquire good abilities fetched similar prices. I could've sold my ability and been rich by now. But I didn't. No regrets back then—I was just another desperate wannabe awakener, one of millions agonizing over it. The thought of selling my shot at awakening? No way. It wasn't anything special anyway. Just superstition.
One big difference between Real World and reality: In reality, awakenings were pure luck, a roll of the dice. But in the game, abilities required meeting specific conditions. It was a game, after all. Unlike reality, players had to grind, invest time, and spend money for the devs to profit. Low-tier stuff—1-2 stars, maybe 3 if you were lucky—you could just pick and play. But 4-star and above were hidden abilities, locked behind conditions.
Server-wide unique. That's how I ended up with the 5-star healer ability. A guy with zero luck in life scoring a 5-star healer? Absurd. But I figured out the condition. Nothing fancy—I just stumbled on it.
● Pray for 1,000 days at the grave of over 1,000 innocent victims
A line from a dusty tome scattered in an old temple archive. God knows what I was thinking. Not some grand dream of ultimate power—just a vague wish to be a healer, even in the game. So I prayed every damn day. 1,000 days. Game time didn't flow faster; it was three straight years of daily check-ins.
It didn't explicitly say it unlocked a 5-star ability, so it was a gamble. The silver lining? I already had a 2-star healer ability to play with, so it wasn't a total waste. In the end, I awakened it in-game, and from that moment, something possessed me to start praying in reality too.
My one friend—aka my sugar mama—Seora laughed her ass off seeing me at it.
"You moron, can't you tell game from reality? If that bullshit worked, anyone with a hidden condition would've awakened in real life ages ago!"
She was right. My 5-star had that insane 1,000-day clause, but other hidden abilities had simpler conditions. No one in reality had tried them? Bullshit—if it worked, word would've spread. Real World would've been the gateway to awakening for everyone.
So I knew my prayers were pointless. 1,000 days in-game. Another 1,000 in reality. Six fucking years turning into a prayer-obsessed retard, as Seora mocked. But to me...
"Halfway there already."
It was a glimmer of hope. I never really expected it to work in Real World anyway. But it did, and it wasn't a losing bet. My life was already fucked—no money lost on daily 30-minute walks to a spot that perfectly matched the condition anyway. Pure inertia; habit took over.
Only issue: Today, day 1,000. The anxiety it'd amount to nothing, the emptiness of zilch happening. Lost as hell. Six years praying for this one thing. In-game, I got the set ability. In reality? Just empty prayers. Predictable outcome.
This wasn't some solo delusion. Tons of people tried folk superstitions for awakening. Plenty tested Real World's hidden conditions in reality. Zero successes. Can't hide that shit. Means it doesn't work.
"Hah. Figures. Fuck."
I turned with a hollow shrug, trudging down. Last visit. What straw to grasp next? Thirty years old. Can't live on hope forever—applied for rift porter gigs to make cash. Seora said she'd ditch me if I interfered with her gaming, but sorry, bitch, your slave days are numbered.
"What's a 5-star busted munchkin healer in-game worth?"
If I can't make money. Sure, anyone would beg for a healer, but without DPS, I'm useless. Lucky Seora gave me pocket money for gear. So, tears in my eyes, I quit the game. Porter work with casual gaming on the side—no more grinding like this.
"Huh?"
Turning back, a blinding light from behind yanked my head around.
"Wha—?"
Light shot skyward. Deep crimson, like a pool of thousands' blood surging back up a waterfall. Then, from the bottom, it shifted. White light. Pure white cleansing the blood, overtaking the cascade.
"Whoa...!"
Mouth agape. Holy light sprayed like a fountain.
Shwaaa!
Fallen Purification Site. The pristine light soaked into everyone here. Not many around—abandoned rift, only victims' families visit. Just some dawn-walking elders. Me too.
I hated rain, but this sacred downpour? No dodging. Didn't even get wet. Light seeped into my skin, filling me with power.
"...Whoa!"
I knew this feeling. Familiar.
Light seeped into others, but concentrated on me. The fountain poured straight down. All that blood, purified into light, flooded my body. Then I collapsed to my knees. Legs gave out. Unmanly as fuck, but unavoidable.
Recovery (★★★★★) Ability Awakened!!
"F-Fuckin' insane."
Words failed; reality shattered before my eyes. Rubbed them. Hallucinating? Dreaming? My pattern—pull all-nighter gaming, morning prayer, crash hard—maybe drowsy haze.
But if real...
Slap!
"Ow!"
Snapped cheeks, yelled to wake up.
"Status window!"
"Haha."
1,000 days of prayer. Dream come true.
Palms up, eyes shut. Focused, tracing the familiar sensation.
Drip.
A thread of mana stirred from my heart. Faint, barely graspable. F-rank magic. Just 1 MP. The despair of my first Real World awakening three years ago, everything reset... but.
"Heh heh heh."
The laugh turned sleazy.
"I awakened. FUUUUCK YEAH!"
Empty purification site. Even the light-bathed folks fled. In the silent graveyard, arms raised, I reveled in joy.