Chapter 1
Chapter 1
Inside the monitor, dozens of characters are waiting for one man's choice.
He is an oddball who has locked every existing class into the top rankings.
It's possible because it's an RPG that encourages raising multiple characters, but it's undeniably a truly difficult achievement.
[ Conqueror of All Fates (Top 0.01%) ]
A title hanging at the top of the character selection screen.
I heard it only supports up to two decimal places, so the actual number must be much smaller than what's displayed.
Probably few enough to count on one's fingers, right? The man, thinking this, moved his mouse.
Seuk-seuk.
The cursor, unfortunately, leaves the character window and heads toward the button labeled 'Character Creation'.
Ttal-kkak.
After a few clicks, the screen changes rapidly.
[ New Class Released, Mimic! ]
As he hovers the mouse over the button, a video plays showing the new class using various skills.
Martial arts including swords and punches are a given. It even casts magic, psychic powers, and alchemy, so it was quite a spectacle, but.
"Doesn't look that good."
A grumbling sound escaped the man's mouth.
The newly added class looked like it had just patched together skills from other classes.
It was a novel method that didn't exist before, but this type of ability is bound to have major balance issues.
If it's an all-rounder, it'll draw the ire of other classes, and if it's mediocre, it won't be able to enjoy the special advantages of a new release.
Even its stats are focused on an unfamiliar category called 'Adaptability', making him tilt his head.
"It really seems like trash. It really does."
But his hobby is to lock every character into the rankings.
It was his only driving force in the grueling life of a day laborer living paycheck to paycheck.
When he pressed 'Confirm Creation' without delay, a phrase appeared.
[ (The nickname is the player's face that others see) ]
"Face, my ass."
Without much thought, he types in the letters 'Emul'.
A loading bar should have appeared next.
Only a black background reflects the man's face.
Naturally, his gaze turned upward.
[ (Not Responding) ]
Just as his finger was about to head toward the power button of the main unit, as if used to it.
[□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□]
White characters flowing down like rain on a black background.
Tteu-reu-reu-reu——.
Even mixed with a beep, it feels eerie.
The moment the man was engulfed in an inexplicable sense of dread.
The white characters assemble and take on meaning.
[ ——type protocol complete. ]
Before he could even properly understand the meaning of the sentence.
Hwa-ak-.
Countless streams of light swallowed him whole.
Kuk.
A needle the size of a finger pierced the man's neck.
Chwi-i-ik——.
The cylinder compresses, slowly pushing the liquid in.
He had been looking at the game screen just a moment ago.
For a moment, he was dazed by the bizarre phenomenon that happened in the blink of an eye.
It seemed like no anesthesia was used at all; the pain was transmitted clearly.
"——!!!"
The scream that leaked from the surprised man's mouth lost its direction and scattered.
Even though he vibrated his vocal cords with all his might, not even a shred of noise could be heard.
'Keu-euk.'
Groaning only inside at the surging pain, he rolls his eyes.
A space that looks like a hospital operating table. Green liquid being injected slowly. And a tall man looking down at him.
None of these things can explain the current anomaly.
Dreams have no context.
Even if you fly in the sky, or dead people are alive, you accept it as natural.
Is this also a terrible nightmare?
The man could answer 'No' accurately.
The cold seeping into his bones and the sticky foreign sensation flowing through his veins. Even his limbs, tied down by restraints and unable to move.
The unpleasant sensations felt so vividly remind him that this is a terrible reality.
The moment he strangely and readily accepted reality.
Fragments of strange memories suddenly rushed in.
'......Emul. Petty thief. Outskirts. City. Disappearance. Neurotoxin.'
Countless pieces that make up a person begin to be clearly imprinted.
While information rushing in like a wave was rummaging through his brain.
Pu-syu-uk——.
The cylinder emitted heat, signaling the completion of the mission.
At the same time, his eyelids became heavy.
At the end of his fading gaze, the man did not miss it.
Ssi-ik-.
The face of the tall man smiling at him.
The man, having engraved that image into his mind, made a vow.
'I won't let you go easily.'
Fading consciousness.
His lack of freedom was not just physical.
*
"Haaah. Haaah!"
The man, who hurriedly sat up, gasped for breath.
How much time had passed?
Soon, along with his calming breath, he muttered lowly.
"...Emul."
His own name.
Or, the nickname he had just made up.
Did he possess a character inside the game?
No, he must have. Otherwise, there is no way to explain this unreality.
The man, Emul, frowned. This time, too, he silently accepted the given situation.
If he were an ordinary office worker, he would have been shocked and unable to even calm his breathing.
The calm judgment, which feels bizarre, is an attitude completely different from the original personality he remembered.
Whether it's the nature of the stolen body, or if the situation made him that way.
"...There's probably no way to know."
Then it's just a futile argument. First, he must survive.
Emul, having shaken off his worries, cast his gaze toward the stench that had been lingering.
The source of the smell was not far away.
Across from where he woke up, corpses floating in the flowing waterway.
Regardless of age or gender, a large syringe mark is clearly engraved on the side of their necks.
Emul stroked his neck. A hard scab had already formed.
Perhaps he, too, could have become an unknown corpse rolling around in the sewer.
How did he alone survive?
Why did they inject him with poison?
Why....
There were mountains of other questions, but he stood up, leaning against the wall, and headed to the water's edge.
He had the purpose of checking the state of the corpses, but Emul's gaze remained on the rippling water surface.
Jet-black hair with no personality, and black eyes.
It matches the appearance of the new class 'Mimic'.
He was sure of it, but is actually facing it different?
Emul, who had been staring blankly at his reflection, slowly stretched out his arm.
Even though he felt a shiver at the cold judgment that excluded emotion, he did not hesitate.
"Sorry about this, but...."
The dead are forgotten, but the living must go on.
His hand, reaching out like a snake, rummages through the pockets of the bloated corpses.
Natural hand movements that even if they were alive, they wouldn't have noticed.
After finishing the work after a few trips, Emul shoved the recovered belongings into his hoodie pocket.
The hoodie he stripped from the corpse was damp even after wringing it out, but he didn't care.
Enduring this level of discomfort is not a very special thing for 'Emul'.
After finishing the cleanup, he bowed silently to the corpses and turned his feet.
*
By the time the hoodie was half-dry.
Emul, who had skillfully escaped the sewer, looked up at the sky for a long time.
"Is that guy in the hoodie from the city?"
"No way. The smell of sewage is reeking like that."
Passersby occasionally whispered, but he didn't care.
Under the gloomy night sky, rusted metal structures and concrete buildings scattered in disorder.
Temporary tents and shacks made of waste materials in between.
The noise of flickering neon signs and the acrid smell of burning rubber.
If you follow the gaze, what hangs at the end are skyscrapers piercing the sky and black dots flying around them.
It was a familiar place like a hometown to the person 'Emul', but to him, who was a gamer, it was a landscape that couldn't be more unfamiliar.
That's natural, because this is not the game world he knew.
'I expected it because it's a new class... but seeing it in person is baffling.'
The characteristic of the game he played was that the world each character lived in was different.
For some reason, they gather one by one on the continent that becomes the main stage.
It seems the character 'Mimic' that Emul possessed was still staying in the original world.
That means there is a high possibility that the game knowledge he knew will not apply.
It's like his strongest trump card as a gamer has been sealed. He could have felt a sense of dismay, but Emul moved his feet that had been stopped.
The given time is not very long.
The green liquid the unknown man injected into him.
'Neurotoxin. That word alone comes to mind.'
What he vaguely knows is the three-syllable name of the liquid. He can't even guess about its efficacy.
It's just certain that it's a type of poison.
'What kind of miracle did I survive by? If I was injected with poison, my body can't be intact.'
He had to check his physical condition as soon as possible.
Tuk-.
Emul's soft arm bumped into a hard metal prosthetic arm.
Before the passerby with the iron arm could open his mouth, Emul preempted him.
"...I'm not feeling well."
He lowered his head and naturally moved his steps.
Passing through a narrow alley, he entered an area where bundles of cables were hanging and rummaged through his hoodie pocket.
Jjal-kkak-.
Two metal chips in his hand. Loot he swiped from the passerby he bumped into.
There is no time for guilt to seep in. Emul intended to survive somehow by mobilizing all the abilities he possessed.
Apart from this, there are chips he brought from the corpse's pocket, but they are far from enough.
If his memory is correct, there is something like a hospital in this city.
He had planned to get his physical condition checked there.
The problem is that with the chips in his possession, he can't even get a diagnosis, let alone medicine.
Because he still remembers the ominous rumor that someone had their organs mortgaged for medical expenses.
"Money... money.... Hmm?"
Emul, whose eyes widened for a moment, moved like a flash.
The place where he stopped walking next was a remote, deserted dump. Waste electronic devices are bursting and forming a mountain.
The internal devices that could be worth money have been ripped out, so no one pays attention to it.
That must be why his past self chose this place.
When he ripped off the lid of the board he had marked with paint someday, a small pouch is visible.
After confirming that there were no people around, he dumped the pouch into his pocket.
Jjal-lang-.
Only ten chips at most.
But this is not the only hiding place for emergency funds.
Small gaps between buildings, rusted and abandoned water tanks, under the base of public generators, etc.
Emul, who had recovered all the hidden chips, hurried his steps again.
A while later, Emul, who stood in front of a building that looked relatively decent, stared at the sign.
[ The Undeveloped Area's Best Body Expert Marvin ]
As soon as he recalled the expensive medical bills, a corner of his heart tingled.
How desperately did his past self collect chips?
'...Because you have to survive to promise the next day.'
Ji-ing-.
Emul, who entered beyond the automatically opened door, discovered an old man sitting in front of an old desk.
There's no way there would be a receptionist to kindly greet him.
Emul, who approached the old man, brought up his business.
"Are you Marvin? I want to get a check-up to see if there's anything wrong with my body."
The old man, Marvin, who only then looked at Emul, his eyeballs began to glow red. It wasn't a metaphor.
The red light shot from his eyes scans Emul's whole body.
He instinctively wanted to back away, but Emul waited silently.
Soon the light faded.
Marvin asked as if he were genuinely puzzled.
"Why, how are you alive?"