“Open beta dawns at last! Brothers, let us storm the gates of glory!”

“Is this a mere game? Its vividness defies reality—a masterpiece that reweaves the fabric of existence!”

“Quick, claim me one!”

…

Today pulsed with the heartbeat of destiny. Before a radiant storefront, its futuristic gleam a herald of tomorrow’s promise, a sea of souls surged, their cries of awe and wonder weaving a symphony that danced upon the air. The streets thrummed with vibrant life—men and women from every corner of the world, their garb a mosaic of colors and eras, yet bound by a singular, burning zeal. They wove serpentine lines, their eyes ablaze with longing and exhilaration, transfixed by the spectacle unfolding before them.

High above, a titanic screen flared into being, unveiling a realm boundless and wild. Emerald hills swept beneath sapphire skies, kissed by wisps of snow-white clouds that drifted like dreams. Gothic towers of alabaster stone pierced the heavens, their time-scarred faces murmuring sagas of forgotten ages. Folk of every hue and heritage roamed vibrant thoroughfares, their lives a living thread in this grand, shimmering tapestry.

Yet it was the heroes who seized the soul—figures of radiance and shadow, weaving through the world like legends sprung from myth. A warrior, greatsword aloft, unleashed a war cry that rent the firmament, his blade a blazing comet that could sunder continents, its icy edge cleaving stone and sky with unyielding fury. A mage, arcane staff ablaze with mystic arcana, hair lashing in the tempest’s embrace, wove spells of celestial splendor—torrents of crimson flame, crystalline ice blossoms, howling gales that sang of winter’s wrath, and lightning that cracked like the gods’ own fury, reducing all to ash. A rogue, cloaked in twilight’s veil, melted into shadows, their shadowdagger a fleeting whisper as they slipped from the darkness behind a foe, steel kissing flesh in a silent requiem. A cleric, bathed in celestial light, chanted softly from a holy codex, their radiance a balm to the world’s wounds, easing its ancient sorrows with divine grace.

…

A world of dazzling splendor, alive with souls extraordinary! It stood as a beacon against the cold sprawl of steel and stone, where smog-veiled skies brooded over a wounded earth. This was no mere game—it was a dream made flesh, the flame that drew these throngs, the spark that kindled their fervor.

…

Starlit Prayer, a virtual reality odyssey that vowed to reshape the very essence of being. Its boundless realms and unfettered freedom had ensnared the world’s heart. With a mindweave helm, players could cross the veil into a land where science knelt before the enigma of mystic arcana and the indomitable fire of warflame. Here, mages spun spells of ethereal beauty, warriors unleashed strikes that shattered mountains, and wayfarers—swordsmen, rogues, knights, clerics—chased destinies that burned brighter than the stars. At their apex, these champions wielded powers to rend the heavens asunder.

This world teemed with races both known and wondrous—humans, elves, dwarves, orcs, trolls, beasts of myth, demons of nightmare, and dragons of legend. Above all soared the celestials, gods of boundless might, revered by the fervent prayers of mortal hearts.

With a mindweave helm, players could shed their mortal coils—fighting, living, learning, wandering. They could carve their names into the chronicles of a fractured world, forging legends amid its tempests.

And today, Starlit Prayer had flung wide its celestial gates.

No wonder the streets brimmed with eager spirits, each desperate to stake their claim in this dawning epoch. This was no fleeting diversion—it was a new frontier, a virtual haven granting humanity a second existence. The sooner one embarked, the greater their chance to seize rare treasures and weave their own saga.

Yet, lost amid the tide, a young man—Draven Zorathar, his face a humble mask of ordinariness—suddenly faltered. His frame quivered as he beheld the scene, eyes clouded with a haunting dance of recognition and disbelief, as if the world had dissolved into echoes of memory. Only when the crowd’s restless nudge spurred him forward did he stir.

He blinked, and a shadowed glint kindled in his gaze, sharp as a blade’s edge.

What was this?

Could it be… rebirth?

…

The sale of mindweave helms flowed like a river of starlight. Players clutched their treasures and raced home, tearing open packages with trembling hands, donning their helms in a fever of anticipation, as if stepping into fate itself.

Meanwhile, in another world…

The Flameveiled Barrens, a forsaken wasteland devoured by eternal fires, stretched into an endless void. The earth, scorched to blackened ruin, reeked of bitter smoke. Rivers of molten lava wove through the desolation, and life seemed a forgotten whisper.

The air thrummed with primal fire essence, so potent it birthed living embers that leaped and danced across the charred earth, igniting all that dared to linger in their path.

And then—

Boom! Boom! Boom!

A cataclysmic roar sundered the silence, shaking the heavens. A mountain, black as the void’s heart, shuddered as if stirred by an ancient will. Rocks cascaded like a landslide, dust swirled in choking clouds, and through the haze, a colossal form began to take shape.

Whoosh!

A tempest howled across the waste as vast ebon wings unfurled, summoning a storm that banished the stifling dust. Crimson slit-pupils blazed open, their gaze a crucible of molten fury. Wisps of flame curled from jagged, razor-sharp fangs, searing the air.

Time itself seemed to halt. The air grew dense, heavy with an aura that could crush the stars into silence.

A presence vast and terrible radiated outward, a tide of dread that smothered the world beneath its weight. Even the fearless fire embers, born of pure flame, flickered and fled, cowed by its might.

“Something stirs in the distance?”

“This world… it awakens to intrigue…”

A voice, deep and resonant as the earth’s molten core, rumbled across the desolation, each syllable a hammer forged to shatter mortal souls. As the winds swept away the haze, a monolithic form loomed against the molten glow, its silhouette a monument to primal terror.

A dragon.

An ebon dragon, its scales a polished abyss that drank the light, stood defiant amidst rivers of fire and fields of ash, its presence a hymn to ancient, untamed power.