The man sat in his office, focused on sifting through documents about the failed operation. Deep down, he understood that responsibility for the deaths lay entirely on his shoulders. But admitting his own mistakes had never been among his habits. Especially since, this time, there had been no mistake at all.

  True, the one for whom he had planned the destruction of two platoons remained alive. However, this hadn't stopped him from placing all responsibility for the failed operation and the operatives' lives squarely on that survivor. He'd spent the last month doing just that — reshaping reports and phrasing whilst the unfortunate survivor lay in a coma, slowly coming round.

  Any other time, all this fuss would have seemed a waste. Only now, he had time aplenty and didn't even know how to pass it. He'd recently deleted his game character, and now his brain needed a period to readjust and grow accustomed to the emptiness left by that sacrifice.

  Giving a mental command through his neurolink to summon his adjutant, the man signed the last document and held it out to the employee who'd already entered.

  "You know what to do?" he said coldly.

  "Yes, sir," came the reply.

  The door had barely closed when the office's master returned to his thoughts about the deleted character. Twenty-two years invested in its development echoed as a dull ache somewhere deep inside. His heart clenched each time he remembered how much nerve and effort had gone into finally leading his own fleet, preparing for its first voyage to a distant, unexplored sector of the galaxy.

  But one glance at his daughter's photograph forced him to push away these destructive memories and focus on the day ahead.

  Three hours later, he closed his final matters and, finishing his workday, ascended to the building's roof. At the designated spot, his service flyer already awaited. As he approached, the rear clamshell door opened smoothly of its own accord.

  He settled onto the wide sofa, leant back and gave a mental command to fly to the medical centre and activate the built-in massager. He decided to use the journey to release tension and let go of the remnants of work concerns before meeting his daughter.

  The city spread beneath him in a shimmering carpet of lights as the flyer glided smoothly through the air. Below stretched endless magnetic highways along which streams of transport flowed, whilst above them advertising holograms blazed, reflecting in the glass fa?ades of skyscrapers. The dark sky was cut by the occasional lights of flyers and patrol drones, and all around breathed the measured rhythm of the megalopolis.

  When no more than ten minutes remained to his destination, he sent the route to his daughter so she'd reach the roof by the time of his arrival. The flyer obediently descended, and soon its landing gear softly touched the surface of the specially equipped platform.

  The flyer's side door opened the moment the craft touched the landing pad. His daughter was already waiting, shifting from foot to foot. Not waiting for the hatch to fully open, she quickly jumped inside.

  In that instant, he thought how much she resembled her mother. Mary… ah, Mary. What a pity you can't see our daughter now, flashed bitterly through his mind.

  "How are you, darling? Did everything go well? Nothing troubling you? How do you feel?" the father rushed with questions, tucking a stray lock of hair behind his daughter's ear.

  "Everything's fine, Dad," she answered, jerking her head sharply so the strand returned. "What could happen to me at a medical centre? It's probably the safest place on the entire planet."

  "Glad to hear it, sunshine," he replied with a slight smile.

  Every person had three ports. The first, a neurolink, was implanted from birth. It connected directly to the brain and provided communication with the surrounding world. Upon finishing school, two more were installed.

  The first was called a nutri-port. It sustained the body in the capsule whilst the mind was in-game. Any food or drink a person consumed in the virtual world was automatically simulated by the capsule: carefully balanced mixtures entered the oesophagus, whilst the neurolink created the illusion of real taste and satiation.

  In the world of Ether, a person could eat and drink whatever they pleased, whilst in the capsule their organism would receive only beneficial and necessary nutrition.

  The second, the ex-port, handled waste removal, imperceptibly to the player, maintaining the organism in full order.

  Thoughts carried the man to the past once more. He remembered the day he'd received his ports. Immediately after installation, he'd first entered Ether. Then began his cosmic odyssey. An odyssey he'd interrupted just a year ago for her sake, for his daughter's sake.

  "Have you already decided what you want to play?" The man again forced himself to push away thoughts of his former character.

  "What kind of question is that, Dad? Of course I'll be a cat-girl."

  Her distant gaze clearly revealed she'd already entered a chat through her neurolink and was conversing with friends.

  "So, shapeshifters," he said. "Not a bad choice."

  "Ah, yes-yes-yes. I think so too," the daughter answered distractedly, not breaking from her conversation with interlocutors.

  Realising she wasn't disposed towards conversation, he leant back in his seat, changed the massage mode and himself immersed in studying information about shapeshifters. Not that he knew nothing about them — over the past year, after deleting his character, he'd seriously taken up researching the world his daughter had chosen. However, this didn't prevent him from reviewing the material once more.

  None of his colleagues and friends, except his mistress, understood his decision. Some even made fun of him, considering him unhinged due to hyper-protectiveness.

  But he knew from personal experience how cruel Ether could be, and therefore immediately decided he'd begin the game with a new character beside his daughter. To protect her, even in the game itself. He'd of course tried to persuade her to create a character in his game world, but his daughter was entirely like her mother. Once she decided something, nothing could sway her.

  The journey to their residential tower took about half an hour. The flyer gently descended onto the forty-eighth floor's parking platform, and they emerged outside. When they left the platform, the transport automatically began descending to the underground dock, but neither the man nor his daughter paid this any attention.

  They headed to the flat. Entering inside, the daughter finally exited the chat and said cheerfully, "Let's enter the game straight away. I can't wait to see everything with my own eyes."

  "As you wish, darling," the father replied, concealing an understanding smile.

  After waiting for his daughter to change into a thin diving suit that hugged her body closely and shimmered with the soft glow of built-in sensors, he carefully seated her in the capsule. First he connected the neurolink, making sure the indicator flashed with a steady green light. Then just as attentively he activated the nutri-port and ex-port, ensuring the connections were secure.

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  Having verified the connections once more, he leant down, kissed her forehead and said, "See you in-game, sunshine."

  After these words, he pressed the button, and the capsule's lid closed smoothly. Immediately a steady hum was heard — the internal cavity began filling with intragel. The thick, semi-transparent liquid that enveloped the body evenly and provided muscular activity during full immersion.

  Walking round the capsule, the man checked its connection to the sewerage and food container. There was no particular necessity for this. All systems operated in autonomous mode. The capsule installation locations in the rooms were calculated so that servicing drones could do their work round the clock. Without needing to trouble the owners.

  Only after ensuring his daughter's immersion process had proceeded without glitches did he himself change into a similar suit and lie down in the adjacent capsule. In it, he repeated all the connection steps. The indicators lit green. The man closed his eyes and allowed himself to drown in the sensation of intragel filling the space around him. An instant, and immersion began.

  Had things been otherwise, he might perhaps have panicked when the intragel began filling his lungs. But at this moment, the capsule had already seized control of perception: through the neurolink, consciousness was gently redirected into the welcome video, even before the liquid level reached his face.

  And now he found himself once more in the painfully familiar portal chamber. High vaults shone with soft light, whilst the walls shimmered in an even rhythm, as though breathing. His gaze immediately fell upon portal number two. The very one he'd once chosen. In his chest, longing stabbed. For an instant, a reckless thought flickered to approach closer, at least to examine it closely one last time.

  But common sense prevailed. He couldn't risk it: there remained the possibility that a step towards the old portal would bind him to the past once more. The man gathered his strength and gave a mental command to approach the first portal.

  He inhaled deeply, as though overcoming resistance from himself, and mentally pronounced a single word: "Immersion."

  He didn't linger in the character selection menu. Everything looked familiar, as though he'd been here hundreds of times.

  The artificial assistant, Karo, generated an avatar of a humanoid shapeshifter. Since the man had a D-rank account, there were no problems with selection.

  In human form, it resembled him. He adjusted the features slightly. Made the cheekbones sharper. Added a calm, confident gaze. But for the transformation form, he became a brown bear. After this, he confirmed his decisions.

  The next step was creating a nickname. He decided to give his avatar a short name. Succinct and straightforward, without embellishment, reflecting his new essence.

  "Ursar. And let's move on to characteristics!" The man was hurrying; he wanted to be in-game before his daughter.

  After distributing the free points, his character's attributes looked as follows.

  Primary Characteristics:

  — Strength: 8

  — Stamina: 8

  — Fortitude: 9

  — Reaction: 5

  — Agility: 5

  — Perception: 5

  — Intelligence: 5

  — Spirit: 5

  — Concentration: 5

  — Luck: 5

  "Do you wish to choose a starting location or leave it to random selection?"

  "Anish'taa."

  "Excellent choice! Welcome to Seratis and enjoy the game!"

  The opening cinematic for shapeshifters interested the man, and he tried to remember every detail he saw. Perhaps what he witnessed now would help him and his daughter in future.

  The cinematic changed to a dark cavern hall…

  Elira's morning began as it had hundreds of times before. All according to schedule, honed by years and habit: early rising, stretching, a short workout with emphasis on each muscle group. Then — water procedures, washing and a light breakfast. The finishing touch — a cup of strong coffee, without sugar, without milk.

  When the last drop remained at the bottom of the mug, Elira set it aside and activated departure preparation mode. Before her eyes, in the light semi-transparent glow of the neurolink, a notebook interface flashed up — a list of tasks and items.

  She methodically checked each point: identifier, encrypted terminal, case with holographic keys, holster, communicator. One after another, the lines in the list changed status to "ready".

  The last item, as always, was the remote access tablet to Arma Concordia intelligence. A heavy device with a blackened surface and integrated biometric protection. She lifted it, pausing her gaze on the logo's engraving.

  The next item in her morning ritual was tidying her hair. All — according to a scenario honed to automatism. Each movement of the comb was precise, measured, like a command in formation. Not a single hair should escape from the perfectly arranged hairstyle — order in appearance, as in thoughts, was for Elira not merely a habit but a necessity.

  Twenty minutes later, the mirror reflected familiar perfection. She allowed herself a short breath of satisfaction and immediately moved to the next step — donning her uniform. Her work suit had been prepared since yesterday evening: pressed, neat, with a metallic sheen to the fabric emphasising the severity of its lines.

  Having fastened the last zip at the collar, Elira critically surveyed herself. No creases, no deviations — everything in place. Her trim, athletic figure enclosed in uniform lent her a certain allure, and this couldn't fail to please her.

  Taking her briefcase, she paused at the door for a moment. Her gaze automatically swept the room: neatly made bed, desk without a single paper, evenly positioned devices. Order. As it should be.

  "Well then," she said quietly, opening the door. "Let's begin a new day."

  When the magnetic door closed behind her with a soft hiss, Elira headed for the magnetibus stop. The morning megalopolis air was cold, transparent platforms glided above the streets, and observation drones drifted lazily in the sky.

  The choice of public transport for Elira wasn't a question of necessity but principle. On her salary, she could easily afford a personal magnetocar, or even — if she wished — a modest mid-class flyer. But in her understanding, a conscientious citizen ought to live in such a way as not to create unnecessary burden on the city infrastructure.

  Moreover, the public transport system in her sector had long since become a model of efficiency. In the ten years Elira had used it daily, magnetibuses hadn't been late even once — not by a minute. The timetable was executed with the same precision with which the sun rises in the east. Unsurprisingly, of course — the transport was controlled by the latest generation artificial intelligences.

  She did, of course, have another option: a service flyer assigned to her round the clock. Her position allowed it. But Elira never used privileges without direct necessity. In her understanding, the ideal employee shouldn't derive benefit from their position — unless it served the work.

  Therefore she commuted to work like everyone else — in the general flow of passengers, with the same calm with which others scroll through morning news. But during working hours, when it was necessary to reach a location quickly — then yes, she'd board the flyer without hesitation. For work. Only for work.

  And today, having completed routine morning matters, Elira received a new, delicate assignment from her superior. Too important to postpone, and sensitive enough to entrust only to her. Therefore, without deliberation, she activated clearance and summoned the service flyer — a rare occasion when she allowed herself to use the privilege.

  The flyer lifted smoothly from the platform, and within a few minutes Elira was already entering Arma Concordia's service hospital. One of the most classified facilities on the planet. There awaited her a brief but tense meeting with the director and several signed electronic protocols.

  When everything was finished, the city greeted her once more with familiar bustle. She returned home already by magnetibus, as always after finishing the working day. The monotonous hum of transport and the flicker of neon lights beyond the windows helped switch from officer mode to personal.

  This evening, an important and long-awaited event awaited her. Preparing for a new immersion in Ether.

  Her superior had insisted she delete her former avatar and begin everything anew. This time in a completely different game world.

  Elira didn't hesitate. Orders aren't debated. And so now, sitting in her studio, she watched as the full immersion capsule's indicators pulsed steadily with soft light, awaiting connection.

  It was time to create a new avatar. This time — in the world of Seratis.

  No one would say the decision to delete her former character had come easily to Elira. Quite the opposite — to anyone who knew her even slightly, it looked almost mundane, a cold-blooded step. But only because she never allowed herself to show weakness.

  Displaying emotions didn't accord with the ideal towards which she'd striven for years. Flawlessness — her armour, her mask, and perhaps her prison. Therefore none of those who called themselves her friend or were simply acquainted with her even suspected how difficult this decision had been.

  No one except him. He alone knew how to read what wasn't spoken aloud. He understood that behind external coldness lurked tension close to pain. Understood — because he himself was the same. Flawless. Ideal.

  And precisely for his sake, for the sake of their fragile, calibrated harmony, Elira was prepared for anything. Even if she didn't fully recognise what drove her — duty, attachment, or something far deeper, to which she didn't dare give a name…

  Changing, she gathered her thoughts and, closing the capsule lid, felt superb. A new world awaited her.