"You will be assigned your role in a few seconds," K's voice echoed through the white void.
Before Max could form a comeback—or even ask who exactly was doing the assigning—everything vanished.
The cold, sterile whiteness shattered like glass, and in a blink, Max stood somewhere entirely different.
---
He was no longer floating. His boots touched real earth now—cracked stone tiles, ancient and geometric. A vast open field stretched out under a sickly blue sky, rimmed by mountains that looked carved from obsidian and thunder. A warped sun hovered just above the horizon, unmoving. Too still.
Max turned slowly, taking it all in.
All around him, other people were blinking into existence—flickering in like glitches being rendered. Some were human. Others… weren't. Horns, tails, armor, glowing eyes. One player had feathers instead of hair. Another stood seven feet tall with smoke leaking from their nostrils.
In front of each one, a 4-by-3-foot transparent screen hovered in the air, glowing faint blue. Max's own screen blinked into place with a soft hum.
---
■ SYSTEM INTERFACE ■
Name: Rin Poo
Sex: M
Species: Human
Ability: Sprinkle of Creativity ☆
Task: Not yet deployed
Coins: 200
Diamonds: 10
Spell: Not gained yet
Items: None collected yet
< Click for more >
---
Max raised an eyebrow. "'Sprinkle' of creativity? What am I, a damn cupcake topping?"
He reached toward the screen. It twitched away like it was annoyed to be touched.
Around him, whispers filled the air. Dozens of players were muttering, comparing stats, frowning at their displays like they'd just failed a test they didn't know they were taking.
One vampire-looking dude snarled something in a language Max couldn't recognize. A half-metal woman nearby rolled her glowing eyes.
The tension started to hum.
And then—the ground shook.
From the center of the field, the cracked stone split open, and a throne rose from the earth.
No, not a throne. A monument to vanity.
Gold vines wrapped around obsidian stone. Twin dragon heads curled over the backrest. Veins of glowing crystal pulsed beneath the seat. It hovered five feet off the ground, supported by nothing.
And sitting atop it was K—no longer a silhouette, but now in full divine cosplay.
He looked like the god of a fashion-forward dynasty: long, slick black hair flowing like water, golden eyes glowing with controlled disinterest, wearing robes that shimmered like silk dipped in starlight. In his hand, a massive folding fan, etched with runes and constellations.
K didn't sit. He reclined. Like he was bored already.
---
"Welcome, players," K said, his voice now smoother, deeper—like honey over static. "You have been summoned here to participate in the Game of Xianjing. Whether you are chosen, cursed, or merely unlucky... that no longer matters."
Max muttered under his breath, "Love that for us."
K ignored him.
"This is not a battle royale. This is not a survival test. This is not even punishment—though, for some of you, it may feel like it."
Players shifted uncomfortably. A few screens flickered with error messages. One guy looked like he was about to cry.
"You have been given a system board. Use it. Abuse it. Worship it if you must. Your name, your stats, your tasks, your failure conditions—they're all there."
Max glanced back at his screen. "Rin Poo," he muttered, deadpan. "Really. That's what we're doing now."
His mole twitched slightly with his scowl.
---
K's golden eyes scanned the crowd lazily. "Your identities have been standardized for this game. Feel free to hate them. It won't change anything."
Someone in the back shouted, "What's the point of this?! Why are we here?!"
K tilted his head. "Ah. A classic question. Unfortunately, irrelevant."
Another player stepped forward. "Are we being judged?"
"Of course. But not in any way you'll find fair."
---
Max felt the screen buzz again. A soft chime. New text appeared:
---
Daily Rule Drop:
> "No player may form a partnership in Round One. Violation will result in instant elimination."
---
Max blinked. "Wait—didn't the system just say I need a partner to access half this crap?"
And like it was listening, the system glitched. Just for a second. The
He stared. "...Oh this place is gonna kill me."
---
K's fan snapped open, sending a pulse of wind across the field.
"You will now receive your assigned costume. This cannot be removed unless the Game permits it."
Several players were immediately wrapped in light.
Max looked down as white fabric coiled up his arms, forming an outfit that looked like a mix between a monk, a mage, and a broke fashion designer's fever dream. Intricate patterns glowed faintly under the fabric—like tattoos embedded into silk.
The moment it finished forming, a flash of heat hit his chest—his system board embedded into the fabric, left side over the heart.
K's voice echoed again, final and unforgiving:
"Your tasks will be deployed shortly. Good luck. Or don't."
The throne descended slowly back into the earth.
And just like that—the round hadn't started yet, but the game already had.