Li Wen had a long and painful dream.
In it, he gained much, yet lost even more.
He struggled like a drowning man, flailing for life, but couldn’t even grasp a single straw.
He only awoke when the shrill alarm of his AI assistant jolted his heart into panic.
Lying in bed, drenched in cold sweat, Li Wen stared up at a ceiling both familiar and strangely foreign in its pristine whiteness.
“I’m… back?”
***
Even with his generally solid mental fortitude, it took Li Wen a moment to calm himself.
In the bathroom, he stared at his reflection in the mirror—a tired young face stared back.
Behind the boyish features was a soul far too worn and numb.
He tried to smile, but all he managed was a twisted, awkward expression.
Shrugging, he picked up his toothbrush and began to brush his teeth.
The AI assistant began broadcasting in its stiff, mechanical voice: time, weather, daily schedule.
“Good morning, world! It is 7:24:33 AM on June 25, 2050, Tienhai Standard Time. One hour, five minutes, and twenty-seven seconds until class begins. The weather today is sunny, with an atmospheric tem—”
“Shut up.”
Li Wen wiped the water from his face and curtly silenced the noisy assistant.
Thankfully, while he had forgotten the precise command, the old M2 model wasn’t completely dumb—it quieted down after the warning.
Now left in silence, with even that sole artificial voice gone, Li Wen felt oddly adrift.
He looked around his room.
Everything was just as he remembered: a plain single bed, a simple desk and chair, a bookshelf crammed full of books, a second-hand computer still good for a few more years, and a dust-covered, beat-up handheld console.
No flashy wallpapers, no fancy decorations—only the barest hint of order and simplicity.
Yet it warmed his heart more than any luxury ever could.
“I’m back… I’m really back.”
***
Once he was certain this wasn’t a dream, Li Wen finally unlocked his phone.
The first thing he saw was a push notification: World Tree: Origins had surpassed two million concurrent players just two days after launch.
Only after that did he notice the 999+ unread messages across all his social apps.
Opening a few group chats, he saw the same thing everywhere: nonstop discussion about the game.
The message flow was so rapid it made him dizzy—it was clearly the hottest topic of the moment.
And rightfully so. As a groundbreaking, immersive adventure game, World Tree: Origins was marketed as 100% realistic, monitored entirely by super AI, and promised a gameplay experience that could rival—no, surpass—reality itself.
And that wasn’t just marketing hype.
From its initial concept and internal testing to the official release, public opinion had undergone a drastic transformation: from complete indifference, to skepticism and mockery, to wildfire popularity upon launch.
Its concurrent player count now dwarfed every competing title.
Even in an era where AI technology was booming, the limits of hardware and neuroscience meant the neural-link or implant-type gear seen in sci-fi was still a fantasy.
Games were still far from breaching that threshold.
Yet World Tree: Origins had no competitors from the moment it launched.
It effortlessly became the year’s best-selling title.
The game’s developer, WG Studio, had transformed from an obscure little company into the darling of major console manufacturers, courted and almost swallowed up through buyouts.
The profits from hardware sales alone were enough to last a lifetime.
It all seemed perfect.
Players were enjoying a never-before-seen gaming experience.
WG Studio was raking in money.
The future looked bright for everyone.
Everyone except Li Wen.
Because only Li Wen knew the truth: World Tree: Origins was a trap—one with no way out.
***
A year after launch, every registered player—regardless of whether they’d actually played—would be forcibly transported into the game’s world.
No exceptions.
At first, most players were ecstatic.
Their in-game levels and abilities had carried over.
But their joy quickly soured.
They were no longer “players.”
The game had become their reality.
Death meant real, irreversible death.
There was no resurrection mechanic anymore.
The first wave of overconfident players, still treating it like a game, were slaughtered en masse when they faced monsters and hostile natives.
Only then did the rest begin to understand the truth.
High-level players naturally held advantages and power, but World Tree: Origins was designed to simulate a real world.
Unlike traditional RPGs, leveling up was a slow, difficult grind.
Most players were casuals, low-level and just looking to live alternate lives in-game.
Li Wen was one of them.
He only started playing half a year after launch, pressured by his classmates.
Even then, he barely logged in—maybe once a week, just to check in.
So when the forced transfer happened, his level was still in the single digits.
Thankfully, his classmates helped him.
More importantly, his sister—a fellow gamer and one of his only two remaining family members—had a decent rank in the game.
Thanks to them, he survived the initial chaos and managed to carve out a life in the human kingdoms.
But that was just the beginning.
The world of World Tree: Origins was far from peaceful.
Nations warred, monsters rampaged, horrors from the void invaded, and worst of all—there were the “Waves.”
Each of these threats could easily destroy the weak.
***
In his third year after arriving, a massive Wave destroyed the small town Li Wen had made his home.
His friends, his allies, even his sister—they all died in that catastrophe.
Only Li Wen survived.
But what good was survival when there was no one left to grieve with, no one left to avenge?
He drifted through a year in a haze, aimless and numb, until one day he overheard a clue from a player in the level 30s.
Apparently, within the elite circles of high-level players, there was a special group known as the Strategy Team.
They only recruited players who met strict level requirements, and all their intelligence and information was shared internally.
Most importantly, they held knowledge—secrets about the Waves.
Determined to join, Li Wen began searching desperately for ways to level up.
He even resorted to dangerous rituals that sapped his very life and soul for small boosts.
But three years later, he was still stuck.
His potential had run dry.
Level 30 was his cap, and he would never break past it.
Luckily, there was another path.
The Strategy Team had established a Contribution Board.
Players could take on contracts and earn contribution points.
Accumulate enough, and even low-level players could be invited to join.
Li Wen had been doing contract work for years.
He even joined a player guild to help.
But his contribution score was still far from the threshold.
Frustrated and running out of time, Li Wen chose to take a gamble.
He accepted an extremely dangerous mission—one so difficult the entire guild refused to touch it.
Everyone but one person: the same friend who had brought him into the guild.
The two of them set out together.
The mission: defeat a Frost Giant and retrieve a specific item.
Surprisingly, the battle went smoothly.
Working together, they took down the giant with ease.
But when Li Wen finally laid hands on the target item, he realized too late—it was a trap.
In the final moments, as death loomed, his friend threw himself into the attack and saved Li Wen at the cost of his own life.
***
Li Wen returned to the guild base, empty and broken.
His friend was dead.
The mission had failed.
And what awaited him was not only grief, but likely the blame of his fellow guildmates.
But what he found instead was a letter.
His friend had foreseen this outcome, and knowing he couldn’t dissuade Li Wen, had prepared a will.
Its contents were simple: if he died and Li Wen lived, all his contribution points would be transferred to Li Wen.
If they both died, the points would go to whoever in the guild needed them most.
The next day, carrying the weight of a fallen comrade’s legacy, Li Wen applied to join the Strategy Team.
After a long and torturous wait, his application was approved.
On a dark, silent night, a stranger came to retrieve him.
The moment he arrived in the Strategy Team’s headquarters, Li Wen demanded to see the intelligence on the Waves.
The documents were delivered quickly.
And after reading them, all that remained in his heart was despair.
***
The Waves were merely the precursor to a catastrophe known as “The Dusk of Doomsday.”
When the World Tree withered, Dusk would descend and erase all life, all existence—even the gods would not be spared.
Everything would perish, and the world would reset.
And that moment—the withering of the World Tree—was already upon them.
The Waves had grown frequent.
The end could come at any moment.
***
Snapping out of his memories, Li Wen exhaled slowly, regaining his calm.
He glanced at the buzzing chats, filled with players excitedly discussing World Tree: Origins.
His emotions were a tangled storm.
None of them could imagine that they were playing a game that would soon become their greatest nightmare.
Even the top-tier players would be powerless before the Dusk of Doomsday.
Li Wen knew the future.
And he knew it was inevitable.
Yet there was nothing he could do to stop it.
Even if he went to the forums now, shouting that every player would soon be transported to another world, no one would believe him.
They’d call him a troll, a lunatic—maybe even sue him for defamation.
Was all he could do simply to stay away from the game himself? Warn those close to him?
No… event that might be a mistake.
During the initial phase of the transfer, everyone brought into the game had at least played it.
But what happened to those who never touched it remained a mystery.
One popular theory—or rumor—was that the original world had already been destroyed, and everyone not transported into the game had died.
Others believed something even darker—that this was all part of a cruel scheme by WG Studio to trap players and extort their families in the real world.
Li Wen had heard that some of those players eventually chose collective suicide, convinced it was the only way to escape.
Whether it was true or not, he dared not find out.
Tftc!
Dang that is dark, I like it