My heart hammered against my ribs. My chest tightened, breath hitching, vision swimming. Panic. Cold, sticky, all-consuming panic.

  How?

  Was this part of Artea's plan? To lure us into a "virtual reality," a world with no exit?

  I clenched my fists, trying to stop the tremors. Think soberly. Calm down, Igor. Panic won't solve anything. I inhaled deeply, holding the breath until my lungs burned, then exhaled slowly.

  I needed to find the others. They had to be here too, right? We were likely booked into the same inn. Lara's colleagues were waiting for five more heroes—logic dictated we were all in the same vicinity.

  I hurried down the creaking stairs, gave a terse nod to the bearded dwarf woman at the counter, and stepped out onto the street. The day was sunny, idyllic even, but I felt like I was trapped in the opening act of a horror movie: beautiful scenery, while inside, everything screamed.

  How to find them? We could have chosen any appearance. I barely recognized myself after the editor. Then it hit me—I remembered the local guides waiting for them.

  I didn't have to wait long. Ten minutes later, I spotted a familiar figure: a bird-man—a Borid, as Lara called them. He walked with a confident strut, escorting a tall, gray-haired man with a wiry, dangerous build. He was half a head taller than me and definitely didn't move like an old man, despite the silver hair.

  "Greetings, comrade in misfortune," I called out with a forced smile as they approached.

  "Oh, so you're one of ours?" The man’s eyes lit up with recognition.

  "Yeah. Only... I have a small problem," I began cautiously, trying not to sound hysterical. "I can't seem to find the logout button."

  "Hah! You youngsters, always in a rush!" He laughed, a deep, raspy sound. "Did you not read the manual?"

  The Borid standing behind him watched our exchange silently, like a bodyguard with a VIP client.

  "What manual? They didn't tell us anything..." I frowned. I hadn't seen a manual. Not in the pod, not in the room.

  "It's right next to the pod. On the nightstand. Impossible to miss—black brochure, gold letters." He was clearly enjoying my confusion. "Tsk-tsk, youth these days. Skip the tutorial, run into the wall, panic."

  "Youth, youth..." I muttered, rolling my eyes. "You keep harping on that. Like you're the ancient sage of the server."

  "Maybe I am," he grinned, flashing white teeth.

  I looked closer. That posture... that tone...

  "Wait... are you the old guy? Sergey?"

  "'Old guy', ugh, rude," he snorted, though the smile remained. "My name is Sergey Konstantinovich. But here, call me Wolf. No 'uncles', no 'sirs', no formalities. Just Wolf. I'm a simple man."

  "Alright, Wolf," I grumbled. "So, the manual?"

  "It covers the basics: how to create a save point, how to log out, where to place respawn anchors, and what to watch out for in the early days," Wolf recited, sounding like a walking FAQ. "To summon the menu, just make a circular motion with your hand, like this."

  He traced a slow, counter-clockwise circle in the air.

  "An interface should pop up. Old-school augmented reality style. You might be too young to remember those glasses, but it's intuitive."

  I nodded, repeated the gesture... and blinked.

  Right in front of me, a translucent menu floated in the air, anchored to my vision. Two big buttons: [LOG OUT] and [SAVE POINT]. Minimalism level: Apple.

  "It works..." I muttered, feeling the tension drain out of me. "Damn... and here I was imagining a 'Sword Art Online' scenario."

  I scratched the back of my head, feeling a flush of embarrassment. Not exactly a heroic start. Panic over a missing button. Then again, who reads the manual in 2024?

  "Should we wait for the others?" I suggested. "Who knows who else skipped the reading and is currently freaking out."

  "Reasonable," Wolf agreed. He was clearly the type who read the EULA before clicking 'Accept'. Wisdom of the ages, I guess.

  He turned to the Borid. "Are we done?"

  "We are, Sir Wolf. All that remains is to arrange your room at the inn," the bird-man answered. His voice was unusual—creaky and sharp, like a large parrot trying to speak baritone.

  They headed inside, and I, feeling the adrenaline crash, settled onto a bench by the entrance. The sun warmed my face, the air smelled of herbs, dust, and fresh pastries from a nearby bakery. Despite the panic attack five minutes ago, everything now seemed... calm.

  As it turned out, out of our six, only Wolf had bothered to read the manual. Without him, we would’ve been stuck here until retirement. Though, knowing Ryabinsky, he wouldn't have let us rot—he probably would’ve sent his sexy assistant to troubleshoot, or logged in himself, glowing with administrative wisdom.

  Now we stood in full force at the inn entrance, looking like a high school field trip. Wolf, living up to his handle, naturally took the lead—clear, confident, commanding. He explained the logout procedure, the menu activation, and the save system to the group. He spoke without haste, like a professor addressing freshmen. And weirdly, everyone listened. Nobody tried to interrupt the old man.

  To my left stood a man of average appearance: brown hair, brown eyes, medium build. Not a jock, not a wimp—just a default "Normal Guy" preset. This was Volodya, Kostya's father. In reality, he looked ten years older and carried the weight of a mortgage and teenage drama, but here he’d decided to keep it simple. I respected that.

  Next to him was Kostya—now "Axel". He had transformed into a full-blown anime protagonist: blonde, blue-eyed, athletic, spiky hair. Teenage power fantasy set to maximum. And honestly? It worked. It suited him.

  To my right loomed a mountain of muscle named Eliza. Tall, with a buzzcut and a physique that triggered primal instincts—mostly fear. Her thighs could crush watermelons, or skulls. Jet-black hair, piercing gaze. Looking at this Amazonian tank, it was hard to believe she was actually Tatyana Alexandrovna, the plump, good-natured housewife I’d met in the bunker.

  And finally, Camellia. A blonde straight out of a harem anime. Chest, waist, hips—all sliders pushed to the right. Cat-like gait, sultry eyes. In reality? She was Maria—a small, shy, mousey girl with glasses. A massive, glaring contrast. It was like a background extra had suddenly morphed into the cover model.

  I chuckled internally. I wasn't the only one compensating for something. Who comes to a new world to be themselves?

  Meanwhile, Wolf was wrapping up his lecture. He explained that saving was only possible in cities, but warned about "hostile save points"—if you saved in an enemy city, you could get locked in a spawn-kill loop. The manual apparently said there was no fix for that. We'd need to ask Lara how the locals reacted to "heroes" popping back into existence.

  Speaking of Lara... I liked her. Not just the looks, but the vibe. Confident, dignified. For an NPC, she felt incredibly alive. Pity she wasn't real. I might have tried my luck.

  "Alright, enough yapping," Wolf said, cutting through my thoughts. "Time to eat. We're drawing a crowd."

  He was right. A bunch of locals had gathered to gawk at the six weirdos shouting and gesturing at the air. Our NPC guides had long since vanished to file their reports. Bureaucracy is universal, even for AI.

  "By the way," I chimed in, "we should ask about a conference room or something. We'll need a place to coordinate without logging out to the bunker every time."

  The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

  "Good thinking, Alistair," Wolf nodded. "We'll figure it out later. For now, dump your gear in your rooms and meet at the cafeteria."

  We dispersed. As I walked to my room, I thought about this motley crew. It was either going to be legendary, or a total disaster.

  Logging out was idiot-proof. I lay on the bed, made the gesture, and tapped the button.

  Blink.

  I was back in the pod. No loading screen, no transition tunnel—just awake. Like snapping out of a daydream.

  A slight shiver ran through me as the sensors and wires automatically detached from my skin. The monitoring system had been tracking pulse, pressure, brain activity. High-end safety protocols. Comforting.

  A thought flashed: What if I get killed in-game while my body is out here? Presumably, my avatar would just "die" and wait at the respawn point. That explained the advice to log out only in safe zones like inns. Good thing there were six of us. We could watch each other's backs.

  I climbed out of the sarcophagus and spotted a thin black booklet on the nightstand. "MANUAL" in gold letters.

  Of course. Right there in plain sight. I’d ignored it completely. Inattentive, impatient—classic me. Although, judging by the others, I wasn't alone in my ignorance. Only Wolf had been smart enough to read the instructions.

  I left my module and headed for the "Cafeteria" sign. My stomach was making demands.

  Inside, it was cozy—a few small tables and one long banquet-style table. Sitting alone at a small table was the thin girl with glasses. Maria. Or rather, Camellia's pilot. If she cut her hair and drew a lightning bolt on her forehead, she’d pass for Harry Potter.

  "Hey, mind if I join?" I asked.

  "Y-yes..." The answer was barely audible.

  In the VMC, she was a bombshell—confident, bright, seductive. Here, she was trying to fold herself into a singularity of shyness. It was amazing how much a digital skin changed people.

  "Camellia, right?" I confirmed, sitting opposite.

  "That's... yes," she whispered.

  "Okay. Let's eat. Just need to figure out the system," I looked around. No waiters. Just two terminals at the end of the hall, like a futuristic McDonald's. "Oh, got it. Come on."

  I walked to the terminal. Camellia followed like she was marching to the gallows.

  The menu was extensive—burgers, buckwheat with cutlets, sodas, high-end tea. They weren't skimping on the budget.

  I ordered a mushroom casserole, borscht, and black tea. Order #1. Wait time: 15 minutes.

  Camellia finished her order, and we returned to the table. By then, the others were trickling in. We moved to the long table. The atmosphere shifted from awkward to animated.

  Axel (Kostya) and Eliza (Tatyana) dominated the conversation. They were buzzing with adrenaline. Eliza laughed loudly, a booming, infectious sound, talking about wanting to punch a monster. Kostya was geeking out over every texture and mechanic.

  The food arrived precisely on time. A "1" lit up above the terminal, and a tray slid out. Automated service. Nice.

  We ate, talked, and decompressed. When the plates were empty, Wolf deliberately placed his spoon in his bowl, wiped his mouth, and stood up.

  "Company's great, food's decent... but I'm going back to the fight," he stated.

  The others nodded and followed suit. I returned to my room, climbed back into the pod, and let the darkness take me.

  I opened my eyes to the wooden ceiling of the inn room.

  It was quiet. Lara said she’d be back in the morning. What to do until then? It was too early to sleep.

  I got up and went outside. I wanted to walk the city alone—no guides, no party members. Just me and the world. Sometimes a solo walk tells you more about a place than a hundred dialogue trees.

  The bearded dwarf woman was still at the post. I nodded to her and walked out onto the main street.

  The city was stunning. Even for full-dive VR, it felt too alive. The cleanliness struck me first. No medieval filth, no open sewers. Sure, horses left presents, but they were cleaned up so fast the smell never lingered. Instead, the air carried a faint scent of white flowers from the manicured beds lining the road.

  The sun was setting. The giant planet that dominated the day sky had dipped below the horizon, replaced by the first few stars. Shops were closing. I stayed on the main roads—it was a fantasy world, after all. Dark alleys probably contained dark surprises.

  I reached the main plaza before the castle gates. They were shut, guarded by two Dwarves—stocky, broad-shouldered, basically armored nightstands on legs. One held a halberd, the other a battleaxe. They watched the crowd with bored professionalism.

  A fountain murmured in the center of the square. Did medieval cities have fountains like this? It looked too engineered, too clean. Maybe it was magic. Or maybe the devs just wanted a pretty centerpiece.

  On the benches, NPCs were living their lives. Resting, chatting, eating. On one bench, a couple was making out furiously. The guy’s hand was shamelessly under the girl's dress.

  Wait... is that allowed? Is this an 18+ server? Weird that they let Kostya in... or maybe his dad had the parental controls locked down.

  As I stared at the virtual PDA, Wolf walked up beside me.

  "Decided to take a walk?" he asked. "Good. You learn more by watching than fighting."

  "Did you notice?" I asked, not looking away from the couple. "The detail. The behaviors. They live their own lives, even when we aren't interacting with them. Have you ever seen a game where the NPCs actually live?"

  "I have. Or at least, I thought I had." Wolf looked away. "But you're right. This is different. I remember how it all began... the twenties. The first neural networks. You probably weren't even planned yet."

  "I can't imagine seeing that whole progression. But even now... the resources required to simulate just one NPC with this level of autonomy? It's insane."

  "Now imagine how many are in this city alone," Wolf chuckled. "And it works. I don't know how big this world is, but it feels real."

  I froze for a second. He was right. It was alive. Full of mysteries, possibilities... and dangers. I wanted to consume it. Learn every mechanic, find every secret, complete every quest.

  "Don't rush to live, Alistair," Wolf said suddenly, a note of sadness in his voice. "Otherwise, you'll turn around one day and realize it's all behind you. Spent. Without a trace."

  He looked up at the darkening sky.

  "And you?" I asked. "Don't you want to see everything Artea has to offer?"

  "No." He shook his head. "It is enough for me just to be here. This body..." Wolf clenched a fist, the leather of his glove creaking. "It feels like I've shed fifty years. I feel alive again. That is enough."

  He paused, watching the first stars ignite.

  "Escapism isn't just for dreamers, Alistair. It's a refuge for those tired of life."

  I didn't know what to say. His words struck a chord I wasn't ready to examine. Would I become like him one day? Old, tired, looking back at my life with nothing but nostalgia for a digital youth?

  "Wolf... maybe let's walk a bit more? Then head back. Tomorrow's a big day."

  "You're right," he nodded, the smile returning. "Forgive an old man his sentimentality. Sometimes emotions are stronger than logic."

  We walked along the square as the city, full of alien life, glowed beneath the sunset sky.

  That moment of pure panic before finding the manual... We've all been there, skipping the tutorial and immediately regretting it.

  Thank you for reading the mass release! From here on, updates will be 1 chapter per week. If you're enjoying the story, please drop a rating or a review—it helps the fiction grow immensely!