Please select your race.
Ethan's eyes snapped open to find himself standing in an endless white void. Floating before him was a translucent blue interface panel he recognized immediately—the character creation screen from Lost World Online.
"What the..." He looked down at his hands. They were there, solid and real, but also somehow not. Like he was both present and absent at the same time, it almost felt like playing Lost World Online, which was a virtual reality MMORPG.
"Am I dreaming?" He said to himself in bewilderment.
He had to be, right? But it felt nothing like any dream he'd ever had. He could think. he could reason clearly, everything was crystal clear, not hazy or nonsensical like normal dreams.
He flexed his fingers experimentally—they responded with perfect precision. He would pinch himself, but he didn't exactly want the pain.
Please select your race.
The familiar prompt pulsed gently, waiting for his input. The race selection wheel materialized before him: Human, Elf, Dwarf, Beast-kin, Demon-kin. Ethan reached out, his hand almost passing through the holographic interface, and selected Human out of habit. He'd always played Human.
Customization Available.
The interface expanded, and suddenly a naked mannequin figure appeared before him, rotating slowly. Ethan felt a strange flutter in his chest—something between excitement and melancholy. How many times had he done this? Created characters, deleted them, recreated them, always chasing some perfect vision?
Anyway, this was just a dream anyway. 'Might as well go all out.' He thought to himself.
He grabbed the height slider and pushed it up… Way up… 6'7 ft—a height he could never have in real life, where he stood at an unremarkable 5'8 ft—at least, he saw himself as unremarkable, despite that being around average height worldwide. In real life, he'd spent his teenage years slouching, trying to disappear. Online, he could be tall and seen, bold.
Well, that was that. Body type next. He sculpted the frame with much dedication, creating a lean but muscular, athletic but not bulky build. Well, saying 'much dedication' would be a stretch, since he was fond of this build any time he played. The kind of build that suggested speed and power in equal measure. A true swordsman's body—as he saw it, not that he knew much about real swordsmanship outside anime.
Well, next was the face.
Ethan usually spent hours on faces, agonizing over every detail, but something about this dream state made the process much easier. He blended features like an artist, crafting truly remarkable face—strong jawline, sharp cheekbones, eyes that seemed to hold depth and intensity. He was going for an Asian base, as that was what coloured his perception of a swordsman, specifically, a samurai, trying for that anime hidden master swordsman look he'd always admired, but something shifted as he adjusted the sliders. The face that emerged was... different.
To say the least, it was striking. It had features that seemed to blend Middle Eastern with Asian and even a touch of Caribbean. It shouldn't have worked, but somehow it did.
It was the most handsome face he'd ever created.
'This should be what a guy mixed from all three places will look like.' He thought to himself. Well, he still looked like a swordsman and was handsome, so he didn't bother changing it.
Actually, it might have been the most handsome face he'd ever seen.
"Damn," Ethan whispered to himself. "That's actually kind of perfect."
Please input character name.
His fingers moved before he could think twice. Yamamoto. The name appeared in glowing letters, and for a moment, his chest tightened, thoughts of his lost account… His lost identity.
Before he could drown in his sorrow, something strange drew his attention… there was a second prompt that appeared:
Surname required.
Ethan blinked. "Surname? Lost World never required surnames..."
But this was a dream, wasn't it? Dreams were weird. Might as well roll with it.
He thought for a moment, then smiled despite himself. If he was going to dream, he might as well dream big. His fingers input the name before he could second-guess himself: Odinson.
Son of Odin. God of thunder. Power incarnate.
Yamamoto Odinson.
It appeared in brilliant gold text above his character's head, and Ethan couldn't help but feel a surge of satisfaction.
Please select your class.
No hesitation this time either as he chose Swordsman. Always Swordsman. He'd mastered every sword skill in Lost World Online, knew every combo, every timing, every hidden technique, every character template. As he would say to himself every now and then, -The blade is my language-.
He was stern fan of the "One man, One blade" Ideology, even starting a new account where he used the beginner sword until he abandoned the account.
The moment he confirmed his selection, a simple longsword materialized in his character's hand. The default starter weapon.
Character creation complete. Welcome to Lost World Online.
A button appeared before him: [Start Game]
Checking to see that everything was ok, Ethan reached out and pressed it.
With a second's delay, the white void shattered like glass.
And then—
—Wind.
That was the first thing Ethan felt—real, rushing wind hitting his face like a physical force. His eyes flew open, and he stumbled forward, nearly losing his balance.
"What the—"
Cobblestone pressed against the soles of his sandals—not pixel-perfect textures but actual stone, worn smooth in the center from countless footsteps. Half-timbered buildings towered around him, their dark wooden beams crisscrossing white plaster walls like ancient art. Golden light spilled from leaded glass windows, and above it all stretched a sky so vibrantly blue it made his eyes ache, the sun, suspended at the perfect height of mid-morning.
'What's, going on here?'
NPCs crowded the streets, he couldn't even find another player, or at least there was none he could spot, but that wasn't what made Ethan's breath catch in his throat. It was the decorations. Colorful banners hung from every building, a few performers dancing about, stalls lined the roads, vendors hawking starter different things. And most shocking of all, musicians played near a fountain in the town square where a huge banner hung with simple words that brought shock.
Salt Fish Town Annual Festival.
"No," Ethan breathed, spinning in a slow circle. "No, no, no. This is..."
The Annual Festival was a special event that only ran on Launch Day—the very first day Lost World Online went live, 15 years ago. It lasted twelve real-world hours, a full in-game day, and gave new players special bonuses, unique quests, and limited-time cosmetics.
Ethan remembered it vividly. He'd been one of the first thousand players to log in, back when he was still in his twenties and still had a shred of hope that gaming might somehow become his career. He'd spent that entire day grinding, rushing through quests, trying to get ahead of the curve.
But that was 15 whole years ago!
This festival never repeated. Once it ended, it was gone forever. The developers had been very clear about that—it was a one-time celebration of the game's launch.
So why was it here now? Why was he seeing it again?
Unless...
"Unless this is a prank," Ethan whispered. His heart began to pound.
"This... this can't be day one. Launch day. Right?"
His hands moved on their own, fingers making the gesture that would pull up the system interface. A translucent blue menu materialized before his eyes—visible only to him, just like in the real game.
[Status]
[Inventory]
[Skills]
[Map]
Ethan's finger jabbed at Settings with desperate urgency, or at least, where settings should have been.
Under all normal circumstances, the submenu should have opened, showing graphics options, audio options, control configurations, and the logout button.
But there was none.
He closed the menu and reopened it, trying to see is his eyes were playing tricks on him, then checked every other menu tab, searching frantically for any way to exit, to disconnect, to wake up.
Nothing.
"This is wrong," Ethan said aloud, his voice tight. "This is all wrong. What about the opening cutscene? Why didn't I see the tutorial sequence? Why is there no logout button? This is just a dream, right?"
He couldn't bring himself to the fact that he was in a day that should be long past, in a body that felt more real than anything he'd experienced in months, and an environment fresher than his bedroom.
Ethan looked down at his hands—no longer his pale, thin fingers that spent too much time on a keyboard. These were strong hands, tan and… calloused?—they certainly belonged to someone who'd worked with them and regularly, not one mashing on keyboards.
He touched his face. Felt the sharp angles and smooth skin of the character he'd just created. Felt the height difference as he looked down at NPCs that would've been eye-level with the real him.
"This isn't a regular dream," Ethan whispered, the words catching in his throat. "This is... a lucid dream?"
Even though he tried to tell himself that, deep down, there was a part of him that had a different opinion he refused to acknowledge, because the only logical conclusion was impossible.
Somewhere in the festival crowd, a bell chimed, and a cheerful NPC voice rang out: "Welcome, travelers, to out Salt Fish Town! Please, enjoy yourself and see what the market has in store for you!"
"That… that's not right." he said to himself. It was supposed to be, "Welcome, brave adventurers, to the world of Lost World Online! Your legendary journey begins today!" That was the welcome message in that festival, but this—
Ethan stood frozen in the middle of the cobblestone street, a tall, handsome avatar named Yamamoto Odinson, trapped in a game and at a moment that should no longer exist, on a day that had already passed long ago...
"This cannot be real."