August 31, 2256, was a day etched into history. Decades later, people still remembered it vividly—chronicled in every publication—

simply because this was the launch date of *EndlessHorizon*, the phenomenal game that reshaped the world and became humanity’s second reality.

The clock now read 11:21 AM. Only thirty-nine minutes remained until *EndlessHorizon*’s global release at noon. And the virtual community would open in just nine minutes… The entire world held its breath.

Though *EndlessHorizon* launched simultaneously worldwide, time zones meant awkward hours for some players.

Jointly developed by nations globally, the game’s core—the world’s premier quantum server, the *Primordial Ancestor*, and even its name *EndlessHorizon*—revealed its primary creators. Hence the noon launch in their local time.

Yet for those desperate to enter, time zones were no barrier. They’d adjusted sleep schedules to dive in at peak readiness.

“Eh… about time, huh?” Mysterious finally sauntered home.

He glanced at the clock, then approached his game pod. Han Ge had personally recommended this game, and he’d promised to try it. Might as well see what all the fuss was about.

The virtual community functioned like a VR evolution of the old internet—surfing the net, but embodied.

Opening it half an hour early served two purposes: acclimating newcomers to full-dive immersion, and letting players create characters first. At least, that’s what *EndlessHorizon*’s official statement claimed.

Time slipped away. The launch moment drew near.

“5…4…3…2…1… Link.” Mysterious counted silently, watching the pod’s timer—

Darkness swallowed him briefly. Then, a magnificent hall materialized before his eyes.

“Huh. Way better than previous games…” He ignored the hall, testing his limbs instead. “Control precision’s nearly real-world level. Most people wouldn’t spot the difference… Guess that’s what ‘global launch’ means?”

After stretching to adapt to the virtual body, he finally focused on the hall.

“Right… I’m supposed to go in?” He scanned the empty space, then stepped inside.

“Welcome to the world of *EndlessHorizon*. Navigation Sprite No. 2 at your service.” A tiny sprite fluttered out, voice melodic as she bowed. “Took you long enough… Create your character now?”

“Yeah.”

“Choose your faction.” She waved a wand no thicker than a toothpick. Two translucent panels floated before him: 【Light】 and 【Dark】.

“Light Faction.”

“Light Faction confirmed. Six races available: Human, Elf, Dwarf…”

“Human.” Mysterious cut her off.

“Race locked. Choose your path: Physical or Magical?” The sprite showed no irritation at the interruption.

“Physical.” Warriors suited him better than mages—let his real-world reflexes shine.

“Path confirmed. Adjust appearance.” She twirled her wand.

A perfect holographic replica of Mysterious appeared.

“You may tweak your features manually, or let the system auto-adjust up to 40% from your real face.” Gender modification wasn’t an option.

“Leave it as is.” He waved dismissively. Looks never mattered much to him.

“Next: attribute allocation. Three methods available.” Three light screens popped up.

*EndlessHorizon* had five core stats: Strength, Agility, Constitution, Spirit, Intelligence.

Strength boosted physical damage. Agility affected speed. Constitution governed HP and physical resistance. Spirit determined spellcasting range and speed. Intelligence shaped magical precision and power.

Deeper mechanics remained hidden—discover them in-game.

Method One: Free Allocation. 40 points total—10 pre-distributed evenly, 30 to assign freely.

Method Two: Random Allocation. Stats randomized (1–25 per stat). A gamble: max 125 points, but near-impossible odds.

Method Three: Body-Scan Allocation. Stats based on real physique (5–20 per stat), with ±2 random variance.

“Method Three.” Mysterious didn’t hesitate. As a *Superbeing*, he trusted his body. Worst-case scenario? 18 across the board—far better than free allocation. Random was pure luck. He avoided relying on luck.

He craved challenge, but not stupidity. Stripping gear to fight evenly matched foes wasn’t challenge—it was idiocy. He’d take every legitimate advantage.

“Attributes locked. Enter character name.”

“Can’t I check stats first?” He wanted confirmation despite his confidence.

“Stats viewable anytime in-game.” The sprite smiled. “Name, please.”

“…Can I randomize it?”

“Character name: *Can I randomize it*… Unregistered. Confirm?” Her grin turned mischievous as a name panel appeared.

“…Reject.” He almost kept it, but relented. “*Nameless One*.”

Mysterious never knew his birth parents—if they even existed. With no family, he’d named himself: *Mo* (without), *Ming* (name). “Nameless.” *Nameless One* fit perfectly on every level.

“Character name: *Nameless One*… Unregistered. Confirm?”

“Confirm.”

*EndlessHorizon* allowed duplicate names—essential for a global player base. But duplicates gained numeric IDs. Only the first registrant kept a clean name.

To prevent impersonation scams, a special April application locked verified influencers’ IDs.

“…Character created. Enter game?” A cloth-robed avatar identical to Mysterious appeared.

“…Can I enter now?” He blinked. He’d skipped race details, skipped face customization, and hadn’t seen his stats. Yet it was only 11:46 AM—fourteen minutes till launch.

“Nope! Just kidding~” The sprite doubled over laughing, wings trembling.

“…”

“Game opens soon. Let me explain the races you skipped?”

“…Go ahead.” He had time. He lifted his palm, offering it like a perch.

“…Thanks~” She fluttered onto his hand, settling into the curve of his fingers.

Her “explanation” covered only basics—easily found on forums. But Mysterious had only learned of *EndlessHorizon* days ago. To him, it was fresh.

Fourteen minutes flew by as they chatted.

“Almost time…” The sprite stood, smoothing her tiny dress. “Launch in under thirty seconds. Will we meet again?”

“Maybe~” She fluttered up, winking. “Since you were late… you’re the second player in the virtual community. Special reward awaits in-game.”

“Second?” His focus snagged on the player ahead of him. Luck? Or something else?

“Claim it after logging in~” She spun her wand. A door of white light bloomed before him. “Farewell.”

A mysterious force shoved him. He stumbled through the door—

【Welcome to the world of *EndlessHorizon*.】

Sensation crashed over him. He was falling.

High in the sky.

As a *Superbeing* who flew via *Psychokinesis*, Mysterious knew freefall intimately. The moment he spawned, he recognized the stomach-dropping plunge.

"Huh... Is this how it starts?" Mysterious showed no panic at suddenly appearing high in the sky. Instead, he calmly scanned his surroundings.

Directly below lay a massive village. Flashes of white light kept blinking along the paths, signaling player arrivals. Watching players materialize straight on the ground, Mysterious sensed something was off.

If all went well, he’d land on a house below in three seconds.

Mysterious strained to adjust his posture, determined to land with perfect composure... With his original body, he could’ve flown effortlessly—struggling like this was unthinkable.

Yet whether EndlessHorizon’s realism was too intense, or Mysterious just wasn’t used to moving in this holographic game, the Superbeing forgot one thing—this was only a game.

Naturally, the village houses weren’t sturdy. The instant Mysterious landed in a flawless pose, the entire roof collapsed.

A few who noticed the commotion looked up. They saw a figure plummet from the sky, crash onto the roof, and crush the tiny house with a deafening roar.

[-45] A blue number popped above Mysterious’s head.

[You have died.]