’...Ugh. How big is this forest?’
Many precious seconds and minutes must have passed since Dan first entered the forest, yet there was still no sign of the settlement he was supposedly heading toward.
Unfortunately, much to his dismay, there was no map function, so he had to rely on nothing but his wits.
’If I remember correctly, the nearest settlement should be somewhere north of the starting area. But how am I supposed to know which way is north?’
Dan slowly looked around and saw trees, more trees. And, just for good measure, even more trees.
He sighed.
’Come to think of it, how does the game expect players to navigate without a map?’
That was a fairly important question.
Sure, some hardcore survival games deliberately removed maps to encourage exploration, but Grimm Play wasn’t advertised as one of them.
Quite the opposite.
The developers had repeatedly emphasized how beginner-friendly the game was supposed to be. There were supposed to be navigation markers, interactive maps, tutorials, and even an optional guidance system for new players.
Yet Dan had encountered none of these things.
’Maybe the system hasn’t finished loading.’
That was probably it. At least, he hoped so. Dan raised his head and glanced through the canopy.
The sun was partially obscured by the thick branches, but its position could still be vaguely determined. Knowing the sun’s position was important for determining direction, so Dan tried to recall what he’d learned back in school.
’The sun rises in the east and sets in the west.’
That much he remembered.
But—
’What time is it?’
Dan’s expression slowly became blank.
He had no idea!
Perhaps that couldn’t be helped. There was no clock or map, so he couldn’t check even if he wanted to. The only option he had left was to log out.
...Actually, logging out right now seemed like the logical decision.
There were too many things that didn’t make sense. And, most importantly, the fact that he had been wandering through the forest for far longer than he should have.
Dan wasn’t particularly worried about the first few problems.
Launch-day bugs were understandable. But the longer he stayed here, the more uncomfortable he became.
’I’ll just log out and check whether everything is working properly.’
He would return to reality, check the official forums, see whether other players were experiencing the same problems, and then log back in once the developers fixed everything.
Moreover, tomorrow was a workday. No matter how excited he was to explore this new game, he still needed to eat and keep a roof over his head. Given that he was the kind of person who couldn’t afford to casually throw away his responsibilities for a video game, staying inside Grimm indefinitely wasn’t exactly an option.
To be exact, a twenty-four-year-old office worker with an unremarkable salary, a modest apartment, and a growing collection of bills that seemed to reproduce whenever he wasn’t looking. He had graduated from university a few years ago and, after bouncing between several part-time jobs, eventually landed a position at a small software company.
It wasn’t his dream job, nor was it even remotely exciting. But it paid the bills, which was more than enough.
There was no reason to overcomplicate things further and sacrifice precious hours of sleep over something he could simply save and continue at a more convenient time.
Dan sighed, a hint of reluctance evident on his face, before uttering the command:
"Log out."
Seconds passed, slowly turning into minutes.
But nothing happened.
He was still standing in the exact same spot.
Huh. That’s not right. Thinking this, Dan repeated:
"Log out."
Nothing happened, still.
"System, log out."
"..."
He tried again.
"Logout!"
"..."
"...What?"
A strange feeling settled in his stomach as Dan stared into empty space.
"Okay. Maybe there’s a menu."
He raised his hand and tried accessing the system interface. Alas, nothing other than his player information appeared before his view. His expression gradually stiffened with unease.
Genuine panic began creeping into his heart.
’Calm down. Calm down. Hah. There’s probably a voice command I don’t know about. I’m probably overthinking it.’
The developers had mentioned an emergency logout function during one of their interviews.
All players were supposed to have access to it.
Even if the system malfunctioned, the neural interface was designed to forcibly disconnect the user’s consciousness after detecting certain abnormalities. Dan swallowed before saying all the commands in his head:
"Emergency logout."
"Emergency disconnect."
"Force logout."
"Return point!"
"Return! Return! Return! Return! Return!"
No matter how many times he repeated those commands, no matter how desperately he screamed them from the bottom of his heart, he could no longer deny the reality of the situation.
Despair began eating away at his mind, slowly but surely finding its way into his heart.
His attempts to log out were nothing more than a fruitless struggle.
"...I can’t log out."
The words escaped his lips as a trembling whisper.
But how could that be?
He tried to convince himself that there had to be another explanation. Maybe the system was malfunctioning. Maybe the servers had crashed. Maybe the game developers were already working on the error.
Maybe—
’No.’
He had been making excuses ever since he entered this unknown world.
The missing character customization, the strange consciousness transfer, the censored Class, the lack of a map. And now... the inability to log out. There were simply too many abnormalities that even Dan couldn’t continue pretending everything was normal.
His gaze slowly drifted toward the forest surrounding him. Suddenly, his body shuddered.
"Am I... actually inside the game?"
Dan shook his head in denial. This was far too realistic to be a game.
Video games were ultimately regarded as artificial structures.
They were built from lines of code, digital assets, algorithms, and carefully designed systems. No matter how advanced technology became, there was always a fundamental boundary separating the virtual world from reality. Mankind simply didn’t possess the technology, nor the technical know-how, to transfer human consciousness into something as absurd as a game.
If humanity’s technology had really advanced that far, then certain problems wouldn’t exist in the first place.
Hell, humanity would’ve probably colonized Mars by now!
’So why does this feel so real?’
Everything was too precise, natural and complete. There were no visible loading screens, graphical glitches or anything resembling artificial boundaries.
There was no indication that he was inside a game at all!
A terrifying thought emerged in his mind.
’Maybe the Grimm Interface isn’t simulating my senses. Could it be that the system is actually connecting me to another world through some unknown means? Is that even possible? No, no! That’s even more ridiculous!’
Another world.
There was no scientific basis for such a thing. Even the most advanced theories about virtual reality had never suggested anything remotely similar. The Grimm Interface was revolutionary, yes, but it was still a machine.
A machine designed by humans. It couldn’t possibly... before that sentence could finish forming, the strange thought from earlier resurfaced.
’If this really is a game, then why haven’t I encountered a single player?’
Grimm Play was supposed to have millions of players logging in simultaneously. Even if the starting areas were separated, it should have been impossible to wander this long without encountering anyone.
Unless,
’What if I’m not in the starting area anymore?’
That possibility made some sense. Perhaps the system had transported him somewhere random during character generation. Maybe the forest was simply an unusually remote location.
If that was the case, then finding a settlement should still solve everything.
He just needed to keep moving.
...Quickly, at that.