Time: May 2, 2032. 06:00 AM (Artificial Time).
Location: Prison "VOID." Sector -7. "Energy Harvesting Hall."
There is no sunrise in "Void." Only the wail of a dreadful siren from above signals the start of a "new day."
Kenji opened his eyes. The shackles on his wrists and ankles felt heavier than before.
"Get up, 666!" A guard struck the door with an electric baton. "It's work time!"
Kenji and Odin exited their cell. Together with hundreds of other prisoners, they lined up in the long corridor. All of them were former heroes, guild leaders, and elite warriors. But now, they looked like slaves with dead eyes, barely dragging their feet.
They were marched into the "Energy Hall."
The place resembled a massive factory. Each prisoner was seated in a chair, and cables were connected to their spines.
Their task: To transfer even the tiny amount of mana their bodies naturally regenerated into the government's "Mana Batteries." The government used this free energy to power the entire Tokyo electrical grid.
Kenji sat down. The cable jacked into his spine. A painful process.
He whispered to Odin beside him:
"Odin, there's something I don't understand. Look at those guards."
Kenji gestured toward the guards patrolling the hall, clad in pitch-black, gleaming armor.
"They are S-Rank. Their aura is strong. With power like that, they could open their own guilds outside and become billionaires. Why are they here, under the water, guarding 'criminals' weaker than themselves, acting as government dogs? For a salary? I don't buy it."
Odin shook his head. His eyes glared at the guards with hatred.
"They aren't 'Natural' S-Ranks, Kenji. They are 'Incubator Children.'"
"After the 'Bloody Week,' the government realized that true Players couldn't be fully controlled. So they created their own loyal soldiers."
Odin pointed at one of the guards—Captain Kuro, who had removed his helmet to wipe his face. Kuro was pale, with dark circles under his eyes, and his hands were trembling slightly.
"See that?" Odin said. "'Mana Steroids.'"
"The government gives them artificial power. But that power has a price. They have to take a special 'Serum' every 24 hours. If they don't, their power vanishes, their bodies break down, and they die in agony."
"They aren't working here for a paycheck; they're working for their Fix. They are slaves. Worse slaves than us."
Kenji stared at Kuro.
So, an army of junkies, he thought. Very clever. Buying loyalty with fear and dependency.
Just then, Kuro noticed Kenji staring.
He approached with fury.
"What are you looking at, 666?! I'll gouge your eyes out!"
Kenji didn't look away. He even smiled.
"Your hands are shaking, Captain," Kenji said calmly. "Is it time for your dose? or is the artificial mana inside you burning your veins?"
Kuro froze. The other guards nearby stopped too. The prisoners held their breath. No one dared to speak to the guards like that.
"You..." Kuro raised his electric baton. "Do you want to die?!"
"Hit me," Kenji said. "If you kill me, you lose the 'Pure Quality Mana' I produce. My mana covers your quota for a month. Will your boss let you get away with that?"
Kuro hesitated. He knew that Kenji (Shadow) was the most valuable "battery" they had.
He lowered the baton and spat in Kenji's face.
"You'll never leave this place, 'Legend.' You'll rot in that chair."
Kenji wiped the spit from his face onto his shoulder. A cold fire burned in his eyes.
"We'll see, Captain. Who 'breaks' first."
Lunch was a gray, tasteless, rubbery "Protein Mush."
Kenji took his tray and sat at a corner table with Odin. The room was noisy, with different cliques claiming their territory.
In the center of the hall, at the most "prestigious" spot, sat a group of 5 or 6 young men. They stood out starkly from the other prisoners. They didn't look like broken "political prisoners" hunched over their food.
On the contrary, their movements were precise and predatory, their physiques were honed, and their gazes were razor-sharp. Even when eating, they made no wasted movements; every bite traveled to their mouths with minimal energy expenditure.
Kenji gestured toward them.
"Who are they? Their aura is strange. They don't look like regular warriors, more like... athletes preparing for a competition."
Odin looked in their direction and nodded.
"Ah... That is the 'Golden Generation.'"
"I remember, Kenji. In the first 3-4 years of the game, when it was a global hit played by millions, there were VR-CyberSport tournaments."
"Back then, battles weren't fought with a mouse and keyboard, but in Full Dive capsules. The player's real physical reaction speed and brain signals played the decisive role."
"I remember," Kenji said, stirring his mush. "I was just a 'Noob' starting out back then."
"That white-haired guy sitting at that table—his name is Shiro. In-game nickname: 'Zero.'"
"He was the 'World Solo Champion' (PvP King) for three years in a row."
"His 'Synchronization Rate' was 99%. Meaning he controlled his in-game avatar just like his real body, maybe even faster."
"When the game lost popularity, they left. For them, it was just a sport, a career, and money. But on 'Black Day,' the System gave them those terrifying in-game reflexes in real life. When the Guilds couldn't buy them... they threw them in here."
Kenji looked at Shiro (Zero) with interest.
Zero was a white-haired young man with emotionless eyes, utterly cold. His hands rested quietly on the table, but they seemed ready to react to any threat in a thousandth of a second.
Kenji stood up and walked over to their table.
"Hello, Champions," Kenji said casually. "Is this seat taken? Or do I have to wait in line for an autograph?"
The table fell silent. Zero slowly raised his head.
"Shadow..." he said. His voice was quiet but resonant. "We saw the news. '0.1 seconds.' Not bad. For an amateur player, not a bad result."
Kenji raised an eyebrow and pulled out a chair.
"Amateur?"
Zero stared at Kenji.
"When we left the game, you weren't on the leaderboards. You only became 'King' on an empty server after we left."
"You made a name for yourself fighting AI 'Mobs' with pre-scripted movements. We... fought Humans."
"Humans are the cunningest, fastest, and most unpredictable opponents. We defeated each other in tournaments with 'mind games' and split-second reflexes. You are just... a 'Grinder.'"
The other "Pros" at the table chuckled sarcastically.
"That's right. He's not in our league. He just memorized the 'Raid Bosses', that's all."
Kenji didn't get angry. Instead, he laughed.
"'Sport,' huh? Rules, referees, timeouts..."
"Do you know, Zero, why I survived for 80 years while you're sitting here eating mush?"
Zero went silent.
Kenji leaned over the table, his eyes turning serious.
"Because for you, fighting was a Competition. If you lost, you 'Restarted' or prepared for the next tournament."
"For me, fighting was War. If I lost—I died."
"I don't know what 'Fair Play' is. I'll throw dirt in my opponent's eyes, break his leg, bite him if I have to. In a real fight, there are no rules, Champion."
Zero put his spoon down on the table. His pride had been trampled.
"No rules, you say?"
Suddenly, Zero hurled the hard plastic spoon in his hand straight at Kenji's eye.
Even without mana, his physical reflexes and throwing technique were so perfect that the spoon flew like a bullet.
This wasn't a simple attack. It was a "Pro-Gamer's" calculated strike with a perfect trajectory.
Kenji didn't move.
His hand simply "appeared" in the air.
The spoon stopped 1 centimeter from his pupil.
Kenji was holding it between two fingers.
For eighty years, Kenji had adapted to the threat of death coming from any shadow, any angle. His Instinct surpassed Zero's Technique.
"Nice trajectory," Kenji said, placing the spoon back on the table. "But you couldn't hide your intent. Your muscles tensed 0.1 seconds before the attack. Amateur mistake."
Zero was genuinely surprised for the first time. The coldness in his eyes vanished, replaced by curiosity.
"You read my movement? Without mana?"
"Join me, Zero," Kenji said seriously. "I'm getting out of here. Your 'Reaction' and my 'Tactics'."
"Together, we'll bring the Government and those arrogant guilds to their knees. We'll show them what a real 'Fight' looks like."
Zero was silent for a moment, then a predatory smile curled the corner of his lips.
"War against the Government? That sounds more interesting."
"I'm in, Shadow. But on one condition."
"After we get out, the two of us Fight. 1 on 1. No rules. With our full power. I'll put you in the dirt and prove who is truly #1."
"Deal," Kenji said, extending his hand. "But don't go crying about it later."
In the cafeteria, a new, terrifying alliance was formed.
The "PvP Kings" of the Old Era and the "Last Survivor Legend" of the New Era united.
This was bad news for the walls of "Void."