Jen sat behind the wheel of her red Saab, idling near the curb, watching through the windshield as Josh wheeled himself up the ramp to the front entrance of the high school.

  It was surreal—seeing him like this. Sixteen again. Still fresh out of rehab, still adjusting to the chair, still caught in the slow, awkward dance of trying to live normally in a body that had betrayed him. But he moved with quiet determination, backpack slung over one shoulder, jaw set.

  She checked her phone. The date blinked back at her: thirteen years ago, almost to the day. Two weeks before the release of a game that would shake the world to its core.

  She remembered what the world used to be like before it dropped—and how fast it changed afterward. The moment launched, it stopped being “just a game.” It became a second world. Not in the metaphorical sense. Literally.

  Total immersion. Complete sensory fidelity. True presence.

  It didn’t matter if you were rich or poor, corporate or freelance, from New York or Nairobi—if you had a neural headset, you joined. Everyone did. Some for fun. Some for freedom. Others for control, status, or opportunity. Entire companies pivoted to hire in-game. Schools began virtual campuses. Crime syndicates, black markets, even elections saw fingerprints.

  And now, Jen had the chance to re-enter it before it all began.

  In her last life, she’d bought Josh the headset for Christmas. A hopeful gift, a maybe. He joined the game a few months after launch, cautious but curious. She followed two months later, drawn by the growing buzz—and driven by the desperate hope of seeing her son walk again, even if only in a world made of code.

  But now, she had the unique chance to join early and enact her plan.

  In this life, she would start her own guild, shrouded in secrets, and give her son a safe haven to grow and flourish. Sure, she could try sticking close to him in-game—but she knew how teenagers worked. He wouldn’t want his mom on his tail.

  That left her with only one option: build something cool. Something irresistible. Something a sixteen-year-old boy would chase without ever knowing she was the one behind it. Maybe one day, when he was older, she could tell him. But for now, she didn’t think he’d choose her over the other guilds.

  There had been other virtual games before , so there already existed workgroups, companies, and veteran players eagerly awaiting its launch. With their prior experience, these groups were ready to seize control of rare resource zones, crafting markets, and PvP strongholds the moment the servers went live.

  But what Jen hadn’t realized in her past life was that was never just a game.

  No, the systems it hid in plain sight—unlisted mechanics, deeply buried progression paths, strange behavior models in the AI—made sure of that. Those in the know weren’t logging in for fun. They came armed with intent. Strategic. Ruthless. Entire corporations restructured around what they believed the game could offer.

  They weren’t looking to play.

  They were looking to dominate.

  Some called it a digital frontier. Others, a second world. But a handful of players, companies, and powerbrokers—they saw something more.

  And they prepared.

  Long before public release, they’d sunk money into earlier VRMMOs. They acquired game workshops, simulation labs, esports organizations, even AI R&D firms. They created so-called “indie guilds” as training grounds. They built data pipelines, psychological models, behavioral feedback loops.

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  They knew something the rest of the world didn’t.

  And Jen… now she knew it too.

  But unlike them, she had more than just capital and research.

  She had twelve years of firsthand experience. She had played the game, top to bottom. She’d walked its forests, climbed its broken towers, memorized its alchemy trees and hidden questlines. She’d been there.

  That was her advantage.

  She’d been a mage. A forager. A creator of high-tier potions that players fought over. Her stores had exploded in popularity. She’d grown from a nameless merchant into one of the most powerful independent players in the game. Even NPC kingdom rulers had treated her with respect.

  But it all fell apart the day her son’s guild found out who she was.

  They turned on him. Harassed him. Pressured him to quit. And eventually, they broke him—until he violated his contract and was banned from the game entirely.

  Jen would never let that happen again.

  She remembered where the first world events would trigger. Where the hidden ruins lay beneath the moss-covered cliffs of Virenth Hollow. She remembered which early herbs would later become vital. Which materials would explode in value. Which enemy factions would rise from obscurity. Which names would go on to become infamous or legendary.

  She remembered it all.

  And this time, she wouldn’t use that knowledge to chase profit.

  This time, she would use it to build power.

  Power that could shield. Influence. Protect.

  Because someone had to stand between the innocent and the dark, consuming machine was always meant to become.

  She looked back at the school entrance.

  Josh was nearly inside now, chatting awkwardly with a girl holding a stack of books. He was still learning how to smile again. Still learning how to be seen without shrinking.

  Jen felt her chest ache—and then harden into resolve.

  She wouldn’t let him fall the same way again.

  Not this time.

  She slipped the car into gear, eyes sharp on the road ahead.

  Time to get started.

  Two neural headsets would cost her $5,000—not a small amount by any stretch. But registering a guild to a domain in ? That came with a whopping $40,000 price tag.

  An amount Jen definitely didn’t have just lying around.

  Still, if her plan was going to work, she needed a guild—and she needed trustworthy players. wasn’t a game where a solo player could thrive. It took manpower to overwhelm the beasts that roamed the maps, teamwork to explore the unknown, and coordinated effort to secure the rare resources needed to carve out territory.

  In the real world, Jen wasn’t anyone special. Just a grocery store manager in Greenshore Park, a small town large enough not to feel suffocating but far from anything resembling a capital city. As she drove through its familiar streets, her mind churned through names—people she could trust, people she might be able to bring into this new timeline’s version of her plan.

  The list wasn’t long.

  was a game of opportunity, but also betrayal. Backstabbing wasn’t uncommon—even celebrated in some guild circles. But in her memories, one name stood out:

  The Robin Arrow Adventuring Team.

  Specifically, one of its vice-leaders: Ben

  Ben’s team had helped her harvest ingredients without tipping off her competitors, even when her products were too high in quality and variety to truly compete with. Rival guilds couldn’t match her potions—so instead, they tried to sabotage her by buying out every herb she needed.

  But Ben’s crew never broke faith. They delivered. Quietly. Consistently. And that made them her favorite partners in the latter years of her empire.

  With these thoughts in mind, Jen found her gaze drifting to Ben whenever they crossed paths. Much like with her son, it was disorienting—seeing a boy on the cusp of adulthood while remembering a man. Broad-shouldered, tall, confident. Handsome, in a rugged sort of way. But most of all, he’d always been kind. Gentle in a way that stuck with her.

  Now? It was almost trippy.

  Ben had to be around twenty—give or take—but he wasn’t even close to the height she remembered. His pudgy build made the grizzly of a man in her memory look more like a teddy bear in reality.

  The few times he caught her staring, he’d nearly trip over his own limbs, cheeks going red as he gave her an awkward wave.

  Jen always waved back. Politely. Casually.

  But inside, she was already calculating.

  Because whether he knew it yet or not, Ben—and the team he hadn’t built—were going to be part of something much bigger.