Chapter 2: Familiarization and Character Creation

After pacing around the room, Michael took a moment to collect his thoughts. His body still felt foreign, but after stretching, moving, and adjusting, he was beginning to familiarize himself with its limitations. His muscles, though toned, lacked the explosive strength he once had. He could walk, but his balance was off. He needed time to readjust, to regain control over himself.

Then, he uttered the question that had been looming in his mind since he woke up.

"Where am I?"

A soft, metallic voice answered, startling him slightly.

"You are in one of the BioGen Facilities in Central City."

Michael instinctively tensed but quickly composed himself. The voice was mechanical, devoid of emotion, but clearly responsive. He took a deep breath.

"So, you can answer any question?"

"For as long as I am authorized to answer."

Michael nodded to himself. It seemed there were limits to this AI's knowledge or at least its ability to share information freely.

"How did I arrive here?" he asked, his voice steady.

"Your original body died. Reasons unknown—part of the data corruption. We attempted to salvage as much as possible and managed to recover 98% of your data. The last recorded activity before the corruption was engaging in Acacia Tales. Some of your in-game data was retrievable, including your gold coins, which we converted into credits for your re-print."

Michael furrowed his brows. "Re-print? Acacia Tales? What are those?"

The voice responded promptly. "Re-printing is a process of regenerating your physical form and imprinting your consciousness with all the data we were able to recover. As for your second question, Acacia Tales is a virtual reality game released one year ago. It boasts an unprecedented level of realism and an advanced gaming experience. The game features its own economy, where finances from the game can be converted into real-world currency and vice versa."

Michael crossed his arms, deep in thought.

He was not a dull man—far from it. As Captain of the Royal Guards, he had been trained in battlefield strategy, diplomacy, and leadership. He had learned to read people, analyze situations, and make sound decisions. But this… this was beyond his comprehension.

Re-printing was, in essence, resurrection.

And Acacia Tales… was a game?

The concept was entirely alien to him. He had lived in a world where battles were fought with steel and magic, where every wound was real, and every loss was permanent. To hear that his past existence—his struggles, his war, his pain—had been nothing more than part of a virtual world was unfathomable.

He took a deep breath, forcing himself to focus. "Can you explain Acacia Tales further?" he asked, his voice tinged with skepticism.

The voice hesitated for a moment before responding. "Your request exceeds my parameters. The best course of action is to experience it firsthand. A connection headgear is available in the drawer on the table."

Michael glanced toward the table. With measured steps, he approached and pulled open the drawer. Inside, resting atop a smooth surface, was an object unlike anything he had ever seen. It resembled a delicate circlet, but it was made of an unfamiliar material—lightweight, metallic, yet flexible. He picked it up, running his fingers over its sleek design. There were no wires, no visible mechanisms, nothing that suggested how it functioned.

The voice spoke again. "Place the headgear on your head and lie down on the bed. Once you are ready, simply command it to connect."

Michael studied the device for a moment longer before complying. He placed it atop his head, feeling a faint pulse as it adjusted to fit snugly against his scalp. The sensation was strange—neither warm nor cold, but present, as if it were scanning him.

Slowly, he lay back on the bed, his mind racing with questions. The answers eluded him, but if there was one thing he had always done, it was face the unknown head-on.

He exhaled softly, then whispered the command.

"Connect."

—

Michael lost consciousness for the briefest of moments. Then, suddenly, he felt as if he were plummeting through an endless void. A bright light engulfed him, forcing his eyes shut. When he opened them again, he found himself standing in a blank, featureless room. The space stretched endlessly in every direction, an infinite white expanse.

"Hello?" he called out, his voice echoing strangely.

A smooth, mechanical female voice responded. "Welcome to Acacia Tales. Before you begin your adventure, you must first create your character."

Michael blinked in confusion. "What now?"

"Create your character." The voice repeated with the same neutral tone.

"Huh?"

"Initializing body scan…"

A faint hum vibrated through the air. Michael felt an odd sensation wash over him, as though invisible hands were measuring every inch of his form.

"Scan complete… Body structure analyzed. Please provide a name."

Michael straightened. That was simple enough. "Michael Everheart."

"DENIED. Name restricted."

His jaw tightened. "What? I can't even use my own name?!"

"Please choose a name." The voice repeated, unbothered by his frustration.

Michael took a deep breath, his impatience flaring. Then he stopped himself. He needed to adapt. He had no sword, no magic, no kingdom to protect. This world had its own rules. He had to learn them.

One name called to him, a reflection of everything he had become. He channeled the rage, the loss, the smoldering hatred for the demons that had taken his life.

"Demon Hunter."

"DENIED. Name already taken."

Michael clenched his fists. "By the fiery fires of the abyss, this is so frustrating!" he shouted.

"Please choose a name." The voice repeated yet again, unfazed.

His breath came out in ragged frustration. Then, a whisper of memory floated to the surface of his mind.

Maydee.

His wife's soft laughter. Her teasing voice, calling him something whenever he got worked up over the small things.

"Nana."

A bittersweet pang struck his heart. He had been a fearsome warrior, but to her, he had simply been Nana—the man she loved, the one she soothed when his temper flared.

He exhaled sharply and, almost without thinking, uttered, "Nana."

"Checking name… Name accepted."

His eyes widened. "Waaaait!" he shouted, realizing what he had just done.

"Entering the game. Welcome to Acacia Tales. May your journey be full of wonderful adventures."

Before he could protest, the ground beneath him vanished.

Michael plummeted into darkness, his stomach twisting as he fell. The wind howled around him, but there was no sky, no ground—just the sensation of endless descent.

He clenched his fists, shut his eyes, and braced for impact.