Darkness faded slowly.
Not like waking up.
More like reality loading.
Light assembled itself piece by piece, forming a sky so vast it made my chest tighten. Clouds drifted overhead with impossible detail, sunlight scattering through them in ways no game engine from my old life could ever replicate.
Wind brushed against my skin.
I felt it.
Not vibration. Not simulated pressure.
Actual sensation.
I flexed my fingers instinctively.
They moved perfectly.
"…Wow," I whispered.
My voice carried naturally through the air.
A golden interface appeared before me.
BETA SERVER — YGGDRASILCharacter Initialization Complete
The notification vanished almost immediately, leaving nothing but the world.
No cluttered UI.
No floating menus.
Dangerous design choice, I thought automatically. Players rely on feedback systems.
Unless…
The game wanted immersion above convenience.
I smiled.
I already loved it.
I stood in a massive circular plaza carved from white stone. Thousands of players materialized around me in flashes of light — humans, elves, armored giants, winged beings, creatures that barely resembled anything biological.
Noise erupted instantly.
Excited shouting.
Spell testing.
People running in random directions.
Classic launch chaos.
But my focus stayed inward.
I looked down at myself.
My character's body was exactly as I had designed — elegant, otherworldly, unmistakably non-human. Mana pulsed faintly beneath my skin like flowing light, responding to my thoughts before I consciously acted.
Good.
High mana sensitivity confirmed.
I raised my hand experimentally.
"Status."
A translucent window appeared — smooth, minimalistic.
Perfect responsiveness.
I scanned my stats quickly.
Then froze.
"…That scaling shouldn't be this high."
My mana regeneration already exceeded projected beta averages.
Which meant one thing.
The racial synergy worked.
A slow grin spread across my face.
"I broke it already."
Movement felt natural — frighteningly natural. Walking required no adjustment period. My balance, weight, even breathing felt authentic.
Too authentic.
When another player bumped into me, I felt genuine impact.
Not pain.
But presence.
I filed the observation away.
Full sensory feedback meant combat reactions would matter far more than raw numbers.
Skill ceiling increased dramatically.
Good for me.
Bad for everyone else.
A burst of flame exploded nearby as a warrior tested a skill, nearly setting another player on fire.
NPC guards reacted instantly, weapons drawn, eyes tracking movements with unsettling precision.
I watched carefully.
Their reactions weren't scripted loops.
They hesitated.
Adjusted stance.
Observed.
Adaptive behavior.
AI learning in real time?
My excitement doubled.
This wasn't just a game.
This was a living system.
I moved toward the outskirts of the starting city, ignoring quest prompts entirely.
Early quests were traps.
They encouraged inefficient leveling paths and wasted time on low-scaling rewards.
Instead, I searched for isolation.
A quiet forest stretched beyond the city gates. Sunlight filtered through enormous trees, insects humming softly in the distance.
The atmosphere alone could have convinced me this world was real.
I stopped in a clearing.
Time to test magic.
I lifted my hand.
Mana responded instantly, gathering like obedient mist around my fingers.
No casting wheel.
No button prompts.
Just intent.
"…So it's imagination-based," I murmured.
Dangerous system design.
Players with creativity advantages would dominate.
Players like me.
I visualized a basic spell structure — condensed mana release, directional focus, minimal energy waste.
"Arcane Bolt."
Light shot forward.
The projectile struck a distant rock and exploded with a sharp crack, fragments scattering across the ground.
I blinked.
That was stronger than expected.
I checked my mana pool.
Barely any loss.
Silence filled the clearing as realization settled in.
My build wasn't just efficient.
It scaled faster than baseline mechanics predicted.
Which meant future class stacking would compound exponentially.
Exactly as planned.
Footsteps approached behind me.
I turned instinctively.
Two familiar figures emerged from the trees.
Elijah waved once. "You look way too happy."
Lily appeared beside him, eyes glowing with excitement. "Okay, this game is insane. The physics alone—"
She stopped mid-sentence, staring at me.
"…You already optimized something, didn't you?"
I folded my arms smugly.
"Maybe."
Elijah sighed. "We've been in the game for twenty minutes."
"And you're already ahead," Lily added.
"Not ahead," I corrected gently.
"Prepared."
They exchanged a look.
Then all three of us laughed — the tension from our deaths, reincarnation, and new lives easing slightly for the first time since arriving in this world.
For a moment, we were just gamers again.
Friends starting a new adventure.
But as the wind moved through the trees, I felt something strange.
A presence.
Watching.
Not hostile.
Not friendly.
Familiar.
High above the sky, clouds shifted unnaturally before returning to normal.
I frowned slightly.
"…Did you guys feel that?"
Elijah shook his head.
Lily tilted hers. "Feel what?"
I hesitated.
Then dismissed it.
Probably immersion overload.
Still…
A quiet certainty settled deep inside me.
This world was observing us.
And somehow—
It already knew my name.
Far beyond their sight, beyond servers and code, a god smiled.
"Good," he whispered.
"She learns quickly."