Seven seconds after EndlessHorizon’s launch, a flash of white light streaked through the Resurrection Temple in BeginnerVillage #2, welcoming its very first guest.

Mysterious materialized beside the Altar of Rebirth, utterly bewildered. The sprite’s parting words—*“Rewards can be confirmed in-game”*—still echoed faintly in his ears.

*Just log in and see… Is the “reward” really throwing players straight into the sky, letting them plummet hundreds of meters to their deaths?*

**[Achievement Unlocked: First Death.]**

**[You are the first player to die in-game. Your valorous deed shall be etched into history. Reward issued. Check System Interface.]**

Two system prompts flickered in Mysterious’s mind, one after another.

“Huh?” His face twisted into an expression of pure absurdity.

As Mysterious stood frozen by the notifications, nearby players began noticing him at the Altar. Though his arrival bore the same white flash as others, he was the only one who’d spawned directly on the Altar—everyone else had appeared scattered around the village outskirts.

With more eyes turning his way, Mysterious snapped out of his daze and hurried off.

“…This body.” The moment he moved, he realized just how pathetically frail his in-game form was. Slightly stronger than an untrained real-world human, perhaps—but for a Superbeing like him? Pathetic.

*‘At least this’ll be challenging.’* He suddenly remembered he hadn’t checked his stats. Silently, he summoned his **[Status Panel]**.

“…” Staring at the impossible numbers, Mysterious was speechless.

**Strength: 1 | Agility: 1 | Stamina: 1 | Spirit: 1 | Intellect: 1**

No random roll could yield stats this abysmal—not even with his physique-based stat allocation. *Where’s the promised minimum of 5 per stat? What are these five 1s?*

*‘Did the system glitch from my off-the-charts real-world stats?’* He could think of no other explanation.

Too lazy to contact support and unconcerned about stats, Mysterious opened his backpack to inspect his “second-player reward.”

Inside the basic 4x8 grid lay two items. One was the **Novice Sword**—a white-grade weapon with 1 Attack, standard issue for physical builds. (Mages got the **Staff** instead.)

The other was a small wooden disc. The words **[Reward]** floated above it, vanishing the moment he focused on them.

**[Valor Emblem: The highest honor, bestowed only upon the bravest warriors.]**

Despite its grand description, the item glowed gray—the lowest rarity in EndlessHorizon. Useless.

*‘Probably a quest item. I’ll keep it.’* Familiar with RPG tropes, Mysterious didn’t discard it.

Somehow, mere minutes into the game, he already felt its malicious intent.

Then he recalled the “first blood” achievement reward. Skeptical but curious, he reopened his System Interface.

“Eh?” He double-checked—it *was* the reward. Yet suspicion clouded his face.

Not because it was strange or useless. Quite the opposite: it was almost *too* generous. That’s exactly why he didn’t trust it.

**[Reaper’s Mercy: As the world’s *least* adept guardian of your own life, you’ve caught Death’s attention. Granted his pity, you now wield soul-harvesting power—a force that *might* help you protect yourself.

(But Death despises losers: Lose this power upon death.)

(This is pity. Absolutely not mockery… puh-chuh.)

Effect: Harvest souls from slain foes to empower yourself. Gain 1 (Tier Level ×1) Attack per soul. Max storage: 1 (Level ×1) soul.

Elite+ souls grant double Attack.]**

*Level Tier* was EndlessHorizon’s progression system: every 5 levels formed one Tier (Levels 1-5 = Tier 1, 6-10 = Tier 2, etc.). Higher Tiers inflicted penalties on lower ones—meaning a Level 5 could fight a Level 1 evenly, but a Level 5 would be crushed by a Level 6.

If the level cap was 100, that meant 20 Tiers. **Reaper’s Mercy** could theoretically grant 2,000 Attack—or 4,000 with elite souls.

Mysterious had no frame of reference for “4,000 Attack.” But glancing at his own stats—**2-4 base damage**, **3-5** with the Novice Sword—he grinned. *This skill is broken.*

While Mysterious stood analyzing his stats, other players had already scattered. Some scoured the village for quests; others rushed outside to hunt monsters; a few marveled at the game’s hyper-realism. Few stood idle like him.

After memorizing his stats, Mysterious wandered the village, weighing his options. The settlement was large but sparsely populated with NPCs offering simple starter quests: cull nearby monsters, gather materials. Low risk, low reward.

*‘Standard RPG stuff. Time to grab quests and grind.’* He accepted every available task—efficiency mattered.

Completing his rounds, he arrived at the village’s second-busiest spot: the Blacksmith’s Forge.

Though no one could afford gear yet—or even equip it due to stat requirements—curiosity drew players like moths to flame. *Just looking won’t hurt.*

(The busiest spot? The Village Chief’s house. Every newbie dreamed of hidden quests from the chief—thanks to novels. But reality was simpler: the Chief was a stunning young woman. In a full-dive game, gawking at a gorgeous NPC felt almost real. Harassment was impossible, though. The game monitored brainwaves; even *thinking* of misconduct triggered instant bans. That’s why Mysterious saw zero harassment in the village—not due to good manners, but because offenders vanished before acting.)

Avoiding the Chief’s crowded porch, Mysterious headed to the forge. *Surely the blacksmith has quests. Maybe even a crafting skill to learn.*

But the blacksmith wasn’t behind his counter. He stood outside, scowling, scanning the crowd like a dragon guarding its hoard.

*‘NPCs don’t act this weird without reason. Hidden quest!’* Brave players approached him anyway—only to be cursed at and chased off. No quests. Not even regular ones.

Mysterious spotted the cause: the forge’s roof was caved in, walls crumbling as if struck by a boulder.

*0.1 seconds.* That’s all it took for the Superbeing to deduce the truth. *I did this. My human-shaped projectile body wrecked his house.*

The blacksmith was hunting the culprit.

Mysterious had two choices: flee before being spotted, or confess.

He never got to choose. The blacksmith’s eyes locked onto him.

*How did he recognize me?* Mysterious wondered. *The guy who fell died. This is a new me—the one Death mocked.*

The blacksmith stormed over, shoving aside players like ragdolls. He loomed over Mysterious, eyes blazing.

“You destroyed my forge.” His voice was a growl. “How do you plan to fix this?”

Rumors exploded instantly. Screenshots of Mysterious facing the furious blacksmith flooded the official forums. Buried under spammy posts, this thread rocketed to the top: *“HIDDEN QUEST ACTIVATED?!”*

After all, not everyone could jump into EndlessHorizon right away. For those unable to access the game for various reasons, spamming forums and watching live streams became their only connection to it.

So when Mysterious posted about the hidden quest, attention skyrocketed instantly.

Meanwhile, Mysterious himself had no clue he’d already become famous.

Uncle Blacksmith: “Spit it out. What now?”

Mysterious: “...”

What could Mysterious do? He was utterly desperate.