All Jobs Maxed: The Dying Game's Final Day

"Haa..."

With this, my collection of max-level characters had grown from fifteen to sixteen.

"Damn... this was fucking tough... but hey, today's the last one."

Lost World, the world's most famous VR RPG... or at least it had been, until the probability manipulation scandal two years ago tanked it completely.

After that mess, most players bailed, but folks like me—who'd sunk way too much time into it to quit—stuck around.

"All jobs maxed out... ha, if the people who quit back then saw this, they'd be floored. Heh heh."

There were sixteen jobs in the game total, and today I'd capped the final one: Bard.

"After all this, server shutdown? The devs better give me something..."

"I'm the first and only all-jobs max player..."

Kim Juwon, 24-year-old guy. Just your average college student at H University in Seoul. I'd managed to balance gaming and studies well enough to get into a decent school.

Now I was on leave, holed up in my room playing nonstop... but Lost World had gotten me through those brutal high school days.

Tomorrow, though, Lost World was shutting down its servers.

I pushed aside the crashing wave of emptiness, logged out of the capsule, shut down the game, and headed to the community forums.

This community I'd been lurking in for eight years straight had been thriving until the scandal hit. Back in its prime, posts regenerated one or two per second.

Now? Maybe three ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠or four per hour on a good day—a total ghost town.

I dropped in out of habit anyway. Today, posts were popping up faster than usual. Probably because it was the day before shutdown.

I could proudly say I'd poured more into Lost World than anyone, so I downvoted every troll post from people just here to mock the shutdown and started firing back in the comments—under my main character name, Noel.

I ignored the flying cluster of profanity and started cursing the devs instead.

"Ah, shit... I put so much into this..."

I scrolled through the forums with hollow eyes.

Then one post caught my eye.

To savor even a sliver of that achievement high—the first and only all-jobs max—I dropped a comment.

Finally getting some recognition for my grind, my lips twitched upward. My ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠mouth curved into a smile, but my mood sank lower.

Then I felt a teardrop hit my eye.

Lost World had carried me through those hellish high school years.

Back then, I'd stupidly stepped in to shield a girl getting bullied—not a big deal, or so I thought. But after that, my life crumbled.

The harassment shifted to me: verbal at first, then isolating me from friends, and finally physical beatings. The bruises on my thigh and side were proof, and even now, thinking back made my ribs throb.

"...These scars linger a while."

Things had fizzled out naturally after we all went to different colleges—no contact since.

Wonder how that girl was doing. I could still picture her guilty face when I took the hits for her.

We'd lost touch too, so who knows.

I'm too chicken to end it like some others—scared shitless—so games were my only outlet.

Of course, slacking on studies would've landed me in the same trash schools as those bullies, so I grinded school hard too. The game I picked up then? Lost World, three months after launch.

Creating my first character, customizing it, becoming it, and leveling up for the first time—that thrill stuck with me.

Contrasting the wimpy me who couldn't fight back while getting pummeled, I made my character as cool and handsome as possible. Watching it crush enemies and grow stronger gave me the will to keep going.

...Sure, sounds like game addiction to outsiders. But if you haven't lived it, you wouldn't get it. Never will.

To my desperate straw-grasping heart, that game lifeline felt solid.

Asking for help around me? No one gave answers. Turns out the bully had big connections. Teachers just said "apologize and move on." You can't imagine the humiliation unless you've felt it.

Parents? They'd ditched me mid-high school—who knows if they're alive or where.

In that mess, I shoved my shattered self-esteem in a corner and obsessively leveled my characters.

I'm this weak, but you're beating enemies and getting stronger. I wanna be like you.

But I couldn't.

Over six years, I met tons online—good folks, assholes. Lost World was my other world, my society.

The more time I spent there, the less shitty my real world seemed. My broken esteem pieced back together like a puzzle.

Now I could even hold eye contact in ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠conversations.

Didn't think I was hot shit or anything. My self-view had just upgraded from "pathetic loser" to "kinda meh if you look close."

If they saw the lame, wimpy me behind the shiny #1 Leveling Rank title, it'd be hilarious. Never showed them the real me.

Now my other world, my society, was vanishing. Felt oddly heartbreaking.

I stared at the tears falling, laughing hollowly in a daze.

Life felt utterly empty.

Eh, might as well reread that novel. A super popular gender-bender isekai lately.

Overwhelmed by helplessness, a thought slipped out.

"...Ha, if I'd been born a pretty girl like this, would my life have turned out different?"

*Ding-*

Reply notification? I checked my phone.

No—an unexpected alert.

After reading it all, a question escaped my lips.

"Lost World... Season 2 showcase preview...?"