The soft murmur of students filled the university library. Midterms were just around the corner, and nearly every seat was occupied. At a table tucked into the far corner, two Asian students sat opposite each other.
One had neatly combed straight hair and wore glasses, surrounded by towering stacks of textbooks. The other, slightly taller with wavy hair, had only a single book in front of him and was currently gnawing on a pencil with a furrowed brow.
"Kasura," the wavy-haired student grumbled, frustration thick in his voice.
Kasura, the one with glasses, sighed as if he'd heard that name called far too many times today. "What is it now?"
"Why can't the school just give us the diploma? I just want to go home. I don't even care about college anymore," the MC whined, pushing his book away and trying to get a look at Kasura. A wall of books blocked his view, so he shoved them aside—accidentally knocking Kasura's phone off the table in the process.
Without missing a beat, Kasura smacked him on the back of the head with the thick book he'd been reading.
"Can you not be stupid for five minutes? And if you can even call that 'studying,'" he muttered.
"How am I supposed to study? I'm just staring at a wall of text! Nothing's going into my brain!" the MC shot back, rubbing the sore spot on his head.
Kasura took a deep breath, visibly holding back his fury. As a trained martial artist, he could have folded his friend in half on the spot—but he chose peace. For now.
"My dear friend," he said slowly, "these are academic books. Complaining won't magically turn them into picture books you can understand. And honestly, even picture books might be too advanced for you."
He smiled—coldly—clenching his fist hard enough to crack his knuckles.
The MC pushed his chair back and stood. "I'm going to the cafeteria."
"Bring me a burger," Kasura called.
The MC gave him the finger as he walked out.
"Fresh air," he muttered to himself, walking briskly toward the cafeteria building.
The place was mostly empty—classes were still ongoing. The scent of pizza and freshly baked bread filled the air. Over near the condiment station, a group of students huddled around a laptop, shouting and laughing.
"You could send a strike force behind enemy lines and take out the flagship—kamikaze style," one of them pointed out, eyes glued to the screen showing a chaotic space battle.
"I could," the player at the keyboard replied, "but I'd lose formation. That gap would expose my entire flank."
The argument grew heated, drawing the MC's attention. Curious, he walked over.
"What are you playing?" he asked.
All heads turned to him.
"Avalon," one of them said.
"Avalon? I played that game years ago!" the MC exclaimed, eyes lighting up. He pulled up a chair and sat with them. "Mind if I join?"
"Not at all," they said in unison.
And just like that, hours passed. The MC fit right in, diving into discussions about galactic civilizations, spacefaring empires, political systems, and interstellar warfare. He may have been hopeless at studying, but when it came to sci-fi games, this was his domain.
Avalon was more than just a game. It allowed players to create entire star-faring races, shape governments, enact policy, wage war, and build alliances on a galactic scale. The MC had once poured countless hours into it—back when he had fewer responsibilities and more time for fantasy.
Eventually, the final bell rang. Night had fallen.
The group said their goodbyes, promising to play again soon. The MC promised he'd bring his own laptop next time to join the battle for real.
As he walked toward the school gates, he thought about his old Avalon save file. Did he still have it somewhere? That dark, edgy playthrough from years ago... He wouldn't mind revisiting it. Just for nostalgia.
Then, up ahead, he spotted someone waiting at the gate.
Kasura stood with arms crossed, scowling.
"Where's my burger?"
"I forgot," the MC replied sheepishly.
Kasura didn't hesitate—he punched him in the shoulder.
"Chill, man! I was with our juniors. You won't believe what they were playing."
Kasura rolled his eyes. "What were they playing that made you disappear for four hours?"
The two started walking toward the crosswalk, stopping when the pedestrian light turned red.
The MC animatedly explained his cafeteria adventure while Kasura nodded along with a bored expression, barely listening.
"Are you even paying attention?"
"When will you give me my burger?"
"Seriously? You're still salty about that? Fine. I'll get you one tomorrow," the MC said, playfully swinging a punch at Kasura.
Kasura sidestepped easily. The MC stumbled on the uneven pavement—and suddenly, the world changed.
A blaring horn shattered the night.
A truck, brakes screaming, was heading straight for them.
By reflex, the MC grabbed Kasura's shirt, pulling them both to the ground. In that split second, Kasura caught a glimpse of the out-of-control vehicle barreling toward them.
"You motherf—!"
[Confirming Identity...][Identity Error][Error][Rerouting...][Error Fixed]
[...][Confirming Identity...][Identity Confirmed][Welcome back, Player: Zamir][Continuing Latest Save File...]