I sat cross-legged in the middle of the sword dojo. The floor was cold and clean, carrying the scent of old wood that had absorbed decades of sweat and training. A katana lay in front of me, aligned with my knees, its blade facing inward—the position taught in the dojo as a sign of respect, not readiness for combat.
Across from me, my teacher sat with a straight posture. He was no longer young, yet his gaze remained sharp. After a few seconds of silence, he gave a faint smile.
"Your sword skills have already gone far beyond the level of a student," he said. "There's nothing left that I can teach you."
I stayed silent.
He looked at me for a moment, then continued, as if weighing something.
"By the way, don't you want to join a kendo tournament?"His tone sounded casual, but it carried clear confidence.
"I'm sure that with your ability, you could win the national championship. No… I'm sure you could even win an international one."
I had thought about kendo championships before. But the idea never truly interested me. I had watched a national tournament once—their movements felt slow, too easy to predict, and boring.
"No."
My answer was short.
My teacher raised an eyebrow. "Is there a reason you don't want to?"
"No."
He let out a long breath, clearly holding back his patience.
"You really are extremely talented with the sword," he said at last, "but your communication skills are terrible. Talk and socialize more. Don't answer so briefly—it's rude. I'm telling you this as your teacher, because etiquette is just as important as skill."
It wasn't that my communication was bad. My mouth just worked automatically, answering by reflex. And when I actually wanted to explain something… let's just say I was too lazy. My answers already explained everything. At least, to me.
I nodded lightly.
My teacher rubbed his forehead, looking tired.
"Go home. Training ends here for today."
I stood up immediately, picked up my katana, and gave a light bow. After that, I turned around and left the dojo.
I went home and headed straight to my room. On the wall was a black capsule with soft blue lines glowing across its surface. It was a metaverse capsule—a technology that had exploded in popularity since its initial release. With it, anyone could experience life in a virtual world. Similar to SAO. Thanks to it, countless virtual reality games kept appearing one after another.
I stepped into the capsule.
A UI screen appeared in front of me. I scrolled until I found an image: a giant mecha robot with a glowing sword, facing a massive monster. The game's title was Galactic Defender.
Despite the name sounding like a space battle, the game didn't actually have that kind of scale. It was an MMORPG where characters lived in a world similar to modern Japan. But that world wasn't as simple as it looked. At certain times, portals would open and monsters would emerge to destroy the world.
At first, the world was pure chaos. But gradually, humanity created giant robots to fight those monsters. That was how an organization called Guardian was born.
This game was interesting not only because of the battles against monsters, but also because of its deep story and intense PvP mode. The combat was realistic, and mecha stats truly affected the outcome of battles. If a high-quality mecha fought a low-quality one, the weaker pilot wouldn't even be able to see the opponent's movements—while the stronger side moved as if they existed in a completely different time dimension.
And in this game… for the first time, I felt challenged.
Unpredictable attacks.
Thrilling battles.
I could feel all of it completely.
Just as I was about to enter the game, a familiar futuristic blue screen appeared in front of me.
"Welcome, player Top 1 Kuroken.
We have confirmed that you defeated Bahamoth using a level 1 training robot within 5 minutes.
As such, we would like to offer you the opportunity to participate in a beta test to try out an upcoming update."
A notification screen appeared.
I had actually done it once before. But that experience was full of bugs and not enjoyable at all. I even messed up the game data while testing their update, forcing me to re-download the entire data set, which took six hours at a speed of 10 GB/s. That day, I couldn't play at all. Since then, I had never wanted to be a beta tester again.
A message came in.
From Darko
Yo, kraken. You online? Wanna PvP with me?
I frowned. Since the game was international, a lot of people thought my name was a typo—thinking it was "Kraken." But my name was Kuroken, which meant black sword.
I ignored the message and was about to press No.
Another message appeared.
Actually, I just bought a new mecha for $500,000. This time I'm sure I can beat you.
I swiped the message away.
Its name is GLX-10.
I was about to swipe it away again, but the message suddenly disappeared.
At the same time, my finger had already pressed the Yes button. It seemed he deleted the message at the exact moment I touched the screen.
It's fine. As long as I moved my hand carefully, that click shouldn't be valid.
Sorry, I mean the popular GLX-100.
A new message appeared, and at the same time, the previous notification screen vanished.
I immediately knew what that meant.
"You bastard!" I shouted as I typed furiously.
"Next time you typo again, I'll cut off those useless hands of yours so you can't type anymore! You only have one job—basic typing, you stupid dog!"
Suddenly, a tingling sensation spread throughout my body. The sound of electric sparks rang out, like a short circuit.
"Damn it… did they send a corrupted file and cause my capsule to glitch?" I muttered.
"They really are unreliable. I hope they fire those developers."
I quickly got out of the capsule.
When I turned around—
The smell of burning assaulted my nose.
In a split second, I saw the capsule explode. Reflexively, I crossed my arms over my head.
My body was thrown back, slammed into the wall, then fell to the floor. My arms were shattered. My body was covered in blood. Pain unlike anything I had ever felt crashed down on me mercilessly.
It hurt.
It hurt so much.
Please…
Dad… Mom…
I begged in my heart, overwhelmed by fear and pain.
Then realization struck me.
Right.
They wouldn't come.
They were too busy working.
Too busy to care about me.
My consciousness slowly faded, leaving only total darkness in my vision.