Chapter 2 | In the Beginning, There Was Light
Nine's Own Goal. Rented Guildhall. YGGDRASIL. 2128.
4 Weeks After Accident.
The week following Touch Me's disappearance was, in a word, awkward. For Momonga, it was a somber stretch of stiff greetings and a message board quieter than a tomb. By the time their illustrious leader finally logged back in during the third week, their shot at the current event's World Item had already vanished— permanently sidelined by the guilds with much larger member counts and less absent leadership.
Initial frustrations were inevitable. A World Item was a World Item, and this event had been their best shot at a reliable drop. Touch Me's explanation of a family emergency requiring his absolute attention, with another week of likely continued absence, was accompanied by a deep, formal bow and a sincere apology for the inconvenience he had caused.
For most, that was enough. There was an unspoken, cardinal rule in YGGDRASIL: thou shalt not drag thy real-world problems into my personal fantasy. Nine's Own Goal respected the sanctity of this escape. While his absence had cost them a legendary prize, most members reasoned that Touch Me's circumstances must have been severe, and his discretion in withholding details was his form of respect for their shared illusion.
Momonga counted himself among them. He valued their friendships far more than any in-game loot, even the World-Shattering kind. Besides, even with Touch Me, victory against the mega-guilds was never guaranteed. The incident was well on its way to being a footnote in clan history— a collective sigh of "what could have been." That is, until one particular member decided it was not.
That member was Phainality.
Of all the founding members, Phainality perhaps carried the deepest-seated hatred for the discrimination they had suffered in YGGDRASIL's early days. Like Momonga, he had been a constant target for Player Killers, hunted simply for his heteromorphic race. This persecution was not some casual cruelty. This was systemic, developer-approved discrimination. Many sought-after classes required a quota of heteromorph kills to unlock, thus turning players like them into walking bounty targets.
When Nine's Own Goal was formed, one of Phainality's openly stated goals was to amass enough power not merely for defence, but for retaliation— to finally exact revenge on those who had made their early gaming experiences a collective nightmare.
It was no surprise then, that Phainality found Touch Me's absence and the vague excuse of "family emergency" personally unacceptable. The two erupted had into a heated argument almost immediately.
"You cost us our best chance at a World Item!" Phainality had yelled, his voice filled with very obvious fury. "Our best weapon to fight back against the discrimination! You don't give a damn about this clan, do you? I bet that 'emergency' was a farce! Whatever it was, it couldn't have been that serious. You just wanted to slack off!"
Momonga had then, for the first time since the clan was formed, saw Touch Me truly get angry. The usually composed insectoid knight had quite literally, roared back at Phainality. With quite the vocal resonance, he might add. Touch Me had gotten mildly frustrated before, even occasionally upset while lecturing members of the clan, but never had they witnessed the World Champion hurl expletives and openly express his anger so vividly and directly that day. They had been too stunned to even think of intervening.
The spat ended with Phainality issuing a final, venomous curse and leaving the clan immediately after. The icon representing his name vanished from the clan's roster in an instant.
In the week since, the clan hall had been blanketed by a heavy and uncomfortable silence. Members still logged in. They still did their grinds. But their usual camaraderie had become… brittle, unsure, as the air was still thick with the ghost of the confrontation. Today marked the first week after Phainality's departure, and that uncomfortable atmosphere had yet to clear.
"Yo, Momonga-san."
The voice from behind him was a familiar one. Momonga turned to see the feathered form of the clan's local avian attraction and designated Elder Sister's Punching Bag, Peroroncino, waving as he approached.
"Oh, Peroroncino-san. Nice to see you."
"The clan's still quiet, huh," the Bird-Man remarked, his head swivelling to take in the minimally-occupied rented hall while his hands idly scrolled through the stagnant clan chat. The last message was from Yamaiko four days ago: a notification that her sister, Akemi, had wanted to visit again next week and asked if she could accompany them on a hunt to spectate. A series of "yes" reactions dotted the message, showing the clan's silent approval.
Akemi was a frequent guest, an elf who logged in with her sister out of curiosity. While not a clan member or a hardcore player, she was skilled enough and well-liked by everyone.
Momonga stared at the timestamp and gave a forlorn sigh that was both profound and telling of how he felt. "Yeah. I still can't believe Phainality had just left like that. Sure, missing out on the World Item was painful, but at the end of the day, it's just an ingame item," He paused and gazed at his bird-friend. "The friendships we've made… surely they're more valuable than that?"
Peroroncino simply shrugged, a gesture that looked comical on his avian frame. "Eh, you know how he was. Always obsessed with PP: power and prestige. We both know how badly he wanted payback on the PKers." The Bird-Man flopped onto a nearby sofa, throwing one claw-leg over the other. "Maybe he felt betrayed? Who knows. For what it's worth, I'm with you. The friends are what matter."
As their conversation lulled, a new message notification lit up the clan chat. It was from Touch Me.
Touch Me: "Members of Nine's Own Goal, sorry to spring this upon you all so suddenly, but I have an announcement to make."
Momonga and Peroroncino exchanged a look of immediate alarm. In Momonga's mind, alarm bells the size of cathedral bells began to clang. Touch-san, please don't tell me you're leaving the clan too?
Touch Me: "I would like to introduce my sister to you all. I finally managed to convince her to join YGGDRASIL last week."
In unison, the Undead Overlord and the Ototori let out an exaggerated and comically long sigh of relief.
"Phew," Momonga muttered, his hand placed on his bony ribs. "For a moment I thought we'd lose our Clan Master too."
"Tell me about it," The Bird-Man agreed, slumping back into the sofa. "That'd be bad. Actually, wait a second… did he just say 'sister'? Is that younger or older? And since when did he have a sister?"
Peroroncino's feathers were visibly buzzing with excitement now. "I wonder if she's pretty! Heck, she'd be a rich lady wouldn't she? We…" he leaned in conspiratorially, his voice dropping to a whisper as he cautiously peered around the room, making sure they were out of earshot from the other members who were all looking at the clan chat with interest. "both know his family is practically swimming with cash."
"Peroroncino-san… she being the sister of a friend you know doesn't automatically give you a chance…" Momonga started, his tone a mix of exasperation and amusement. "Besides, we don't even know how or what she's like."
The pair returned their attention to the chatbox as more messages poured in. One, in particular, exploded onto the screen from Peroroncino's sister, BubblingTeapot.
BubblingTeapot: "OOOOH! TOUCH-KUN NO IMOUTO! INTROOOOODUUUUUUCE MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEe_eEEEEEEE—" (Message has hit character limits.)
Touch Me: "I'm thankful for your enthusiasm, Teapot-san. She actually has yet to select a race. She'll be creating her character this weekend though. Ah… I was hoping you all would be okay with me showing her around our clan and the game."
Momonga felt a genuine spark of happiness at the news. While his interest was not as… frivolous as his bird-brained friend's, this felt like a hopeful sign for the clan. A new member, especially one connected to their leader, could be just the thing to help them move past the sting of Phainality's departure. Assuming she has the interest and chooses to play as a heteromorph, of course. If not, she could always just be a permanent guest like Akemi.
Speaking of birds, his friend's excitement had reached a fever pitch. Peroroncino had bounced up from the sofa and was practically standing erected on the spot, rhythmically contracting and expanding and furiously pointing a feathered finger at the chat log. "SEE, MOMONGA! SEE! Touch Me didn't deny it!! IT'S AN IMOUTO!!! A RICH Ojou-Sama!!!! THE DREAM COMBO!"
Shaking his skull, Momonga gave an exasperated reply, "Peroroncino-san, that still doesn't mean you have a chance. Statistically speaking, I think your chances are lower than a heteromorph's in a humanoid-supremacist zone. Let us restrain ourselves and make sure her first impression of us isn't that of a bunch of misfits, degenerates…"
He remembered Peroroncino's list of… exotic fetishes and his love for a certain category of games that involved a lot of amorous squealing and other assorted acoustically distracting sound effects. He vaguely imagined Touch Me's sister logging in, only to be greeted by a bow-waving Bird-Man spouting lines from his most recent favourite eroge. The resulting PK session would be legendary.
"…And potential felons," he finished.
"What are you saying, my dear friend??" Peroroncino's feathery face loomed in front of Momonga, waving his massive bow around like some politician's propaganda staff. "The Art of Getting a Girlfriend is to keep trying! No matter how many times you get rejected, one should never give up! Take all the shots you have! You miss 100% of the shots you don't take!! It's a numbers game! A glorious, glorious numbers game!"
"Yeah, one that may conclude with a restraining order," Momonga deadpanned, "Do that enough times and you'd be labelled a stalker and get sent to jail. Assuming your sister doesn't strangle you and Touch Me doesn't find you IRL for castration practice first."
As if on cue, a new message from BubblingTeapot appeared, addressed specifically to her brother
BubblingTeapot: "Oi, dumbass brother of mine. Remember this well — mind your manners. Especially in front of Touch-san's Imouto-chan. Don't embarrass me just because you got excited at meeting a new girl who will never be your girlfriend. Got it?"
Momonga pointed a bony finger at the last line in the clan chat. "See? Peroroncino-san, look at this timing. Even the universe agrees your odds are low."
Peroroncino was now practically flipping the bird.
"THAT OLD HAG!!"
———
Neo-Tokyo Omicron Medical University Hospital. Seiyō-no-Sekai (静養の世界). Top Floor. Neo-Tokyo. 2128.
Xia Lanyue had promised her brother she would try YGGDRASIL. The memory of Touch Me's face— a comical burst of unguarded hope and energy often only seen when his favourite heroic stories were involved— still brought a faint, pained smile to her lips even almost two weeks later. It was a strange feeling, being the cause of such uncomplicated joy when her own world had been reduced to a single, sterile suite.
Her father, the Xia patriarch, had maintained his particular brand of support. Where her brother saw a cold, transactional figure who viewed his children as assets, Lanyue saw a man who was just… really, really bad at communicating his feelings to his children.
In fact, she was certain he was pathologically incapable of expressing emotion in any language other than capital. He fulfilled his duties, often with overwhelming excess. The private, Olympic-grade diving facility he had built after a young Lanyue had casually mentioned she liked the feeling of diving into the water was the prime example. Now that the facility's primary user would never dive again, she had suggested opening it to the public. His initial refusal wasn't out of sentimentality, but a simple, brutal logic: Why give away a perfectly good asset? He had only relented after she framed it as a public relations victory, and that she had rather it be used than left to waste.
The pastel blue and pink custom-designed Virtual Reality Entertainment Helmet she was holding was his latest handiwork. Upon hearing of her decision to game, he had it commissioned and delivered to her suite within three days. Apparently it had took an extra day longer due to the artisans' personal persistence that her helmet be decorated with hand-forged and hand-painted platinum Peonies and cherry Sakuras. The team had also insisted the helmet be induction-coated with enough layers of diamond-lacquer so as to ensure its finish would hold up for at least a decade, citing their personal honour and pride as a craftsmen for their continental athlete.
However, the unique condition of her body meant the beautiful custom helmet was merely the final piece of a massive medical undertaking. An army of specialists had spent the better part of a week running billions of simulations. The goal was not just to prevent adverse effects, but to ensure the connection between the helmet and her embedded nano bio-computer would be 100% compatible, with zero additional risk of damage to her already traumatised nerves.
She was finally given the green light nine days later, making it two weeks after her brother first made his suggestion and just under five weeks since the accident that had redefined her life.
"All systems have been checked and prepared, Lady Ka." The warm tone of the chief doctor in charge of her medical care, Doctor Hal Akase, gently notified Lanyue from beside her Automated Physio-Kinetic Bed. "We are ready."
"Thank you, Doctor," she replied, giving a grateful smile his way. "Please, have some rest."
"You are most welcome, Lady Ka," he acknowledged with a deep bow. "A monitoring team will stay back to observe the data streams and your vitals. We will be able to respond immediately should there be any unforeseen issues."
Unforeseen issues. The euphemism hung in the sterile air. Lanyue simply nodded and put on her exquisite Peony and Sakura adorned helmet. The interior was perfectly cushioned, soft, and ventilated, a cradle designed for an experience her body could no longer have in reality.
"Beginning connection. Have a great time, Lady Ka."
———
YGGDRASIL Character Creation Screen. Neo-Tokyo Omicron Medical University Hospital. Seiyō-no-Sekai (静養の世界). Top Floor. Neo-Tokyo. 2128.
Lanyue had no prior expectations of YGGDRASIL. Her life as an athlete had been a monochrome cycle of training, competition, and recovery; there was simply no room for virtual worlds. Her knowledge was limited to the occasional passing glimpses on advertisement boards flashing by her limousine window and the excited, fragmented explanations from her brother. She knew it involved a Norse tree, was multiplayer, and had a fantasy setting, that much was clear from the screenshots Touch Me had shown her.
He had called it the most popular DMMO-RPG in Neo-Japan. Lanyue had no clue what DMMORPG meant. She simply filed it away as something you can do with other people.
Soon, digital streams of white entered her consciousness, a sensation that was utterly alien yet strangely peaceful. When her vision cleared, she was greeted by a splash screen of breathtaking scale. Golden letters materialised before her, forming the title YGGDRASIL in a bold and imposing font. Yet, as the glare faded, her gaze was drawn beyond the text to the world it heralded.
There stood a tree of impossible scale, its colossal trunk of ancient bark piercing a heavens she could not see the end of. It was the heart of a vast, luxuriant forest that throbbed with life, every leaf and root rendered in stunning, vibrant detail.
A breathless sense of awe settled over Lanyue. The scale was awe-inspiring, but the artistry, the harmonious symphony of colours and exquisite craftsmanship was what truly captivated her. It was the same refined appreciation for aesthetic perfection that governed her greatest passion: an avid admiration for traditional dresses, especially from the ancient civilisations of Neo-Asia.
What that had directly led to was a crippling addiction towards vestments with traditional design motifs. In her personal mansion, she had designated entire wings solely for storing her dresses. Several hundred wardrobes contained what amounted to a private museum of Ancient Asian Heritage, each piece carefully categorised and mapped to a specific location, ready for her to wear at a moment's notice.
One section housed elegant áo Dàis from Neo-Vietnam and vibrant Hanboks from Neo-Korea. Another was dedicated to the formal and casual elegance of Chut Thais from the Thai Kingdom. Yet another wing held masterfully-paired Baju Kurungs and exquisitely-embroidered Kebayas. Maria Clara gowns and Baro't Sayas occupied their own rooms, while a rainbow collection of Sari dresses filled an entire hall. Bhutanese Kiras had their own armoires, alongside a selection of assorted Baju Kurungs.
However, what truly defined the scale— and perhaps the absurdity— of her collection was this: while one entire block was dedicated to storing all the dresses listed above, she also had two additional blocks reserved, specifically and exclusively, for Japanese and Chinese dresses.
First, Kimonos. An entire floor was dedicated to her collection of Jūnihitoe, Furisode, and Tomesode robes. This was accompanied by a veritable library of Obi sashes, each meticulously curated to pair with a specific kimono.
Then came the Yukatas, which also occupied a whole floor. Her collection of these casual, unlined cotton kimonos was arguably more vast and diverse than her formal collection. Given their more accessible designs and playful colour palettes, Lanyue had found them infinitely more convenient for casual outings.
Not that "casual outings" were on the agenda anymore, a quiet voice in the back of her mind noted, before she gently pushed the thought aside.
After that was an entire floor dedicated to Lolita fashion. While not a traditional dress in the historical sense— having been introduced in the 1980s— Lanyue adored its extreme dedication to a specific aesthetic and its own complex rules of colour coordination. She had all three main styles: Sweet, Classic, and Gothic Lolita. More niche sub-styles, like Wa-Lolita, had their own neatly organised dressers positioned throughout the floor. She loved the process of piecing different elements together, treating each outfit like a complex and satisfying puzzle.
And then there was her collection of Chinese Traditional Dresses, which like her Japanese collection, occupied an entire block by itself.
This was her largest and most elaborate collection, a comprehensively hand-curated timeline where every single dynasty was represented. It began with the earliest Yichang designs of the Shang and Zhou dynasties, progressed through the unifying elegance of the Shenyi and Qujus that defined the Han dynasty, and then reached what could be considered the collection's vibrant heart: the Ruqun and the iconic Huadian of the Tang era, renowned for their dazzling, almost audacious use of colours— saffron yellows, vermilion reds, and rich azure blues. This was followed by the more refined, elongated, and modest Song dynasty variant, which favoured a sophisticated palette of muted greens, soft lavenders, and elegant tea-rose pinks.
The Mongol-influenced Zhisun was also present, followed by the proverbial return to Han Chinese styles with the Ming's Aoqun and the distinct Qizhuang of the Qing dynasty. Yet, the styles that were the most numerous were unmistakably the Ruquns from the Tang and Song dynasties.
Accordingly, she had entire rooms dedicated to the creation of the Huadian— the ornate forehead decoration. Whether using traditional brushes or state-of-the-art printers, she had every tool installed, all for the singular purpose of finding the perfect design to complement a specific Ruqun.
A smile had unknowingly appeared on her as Lanyue fondly recalled the moments when she wore a dress from that ridiculous collection of hers. She did not remember every single design she had acquired, but she cherished every piece that she owned, making sure they were properly cared for by her service staff. Although, that brief moment of happiness was slightly dampened by the fact that she will probably no longer be able to wear them as freely as she could in the past.
In the midst of this somber reminiscence, a new option had materialised before her. YGGDRASIL, having detected a new user with no prior characters made, presented the luminous NEW GAME to her. She reached out, her finger gently touching the golden letters, and the majestic world-tree scenery dissolved, gently shifting into a space of pure, blank white, uniformly and perfectly lit.
The lighting here is perfect, she thought with a designer's approval, as streams of data flowed into her consciousness. Within seconds, a veritable scroll of available races unfurled in a new, elegant interface. They filled the left side of her vision while a detailed preview occupied the middle, and a list of numbers and statistics were on the right. A casual glance indicated well over six hundred options, not even counting the variations within main race categories.
"Wow… this is… going to take a while."
And so she began to browse.
———
The number of races available to choose from was ludicrous. The list promised everything from the hulking to the petite and adorable, from classic humanoids to… abominations that defied easy categorisation.
On her first scroll through the seemingly endless list, Lanyue's eyes skimmed past:
Humans, elves, dwarves, halflings, orcs, half-orcs, and something that was distinctly neither an orc nor a human. Gnomes, half-elves, tieflings. Goblins, pixies, and short abominations that looked like they would bite people's ankles off. Lizard people; lizard people with long tails; lizard people with interesting and profoundly inconvenient horns. Catgirls— lots and lots of variations of catgirls and nekomimi. An over-sexualised bunny-human hybrid; another bunny-something so androgynous its gender was indeterminate. Undead of… a lot of kinds. Slimes of all viscosities and colours. Walking vegetables. Sentient bamboos and trees. Avians with hands and legs. Nephilim. Humanoid insects. Squids. A sizeable number of Cthulhu-esque monstrosities. Proper angels, fallen angels, and angels who looked like they worked at a strip club. Cow-people. Androids that looked like cow-people. Androids that looked like regular people. Fox-people.
And a long, long list of other animals, organisms, and sentient objects that Lanyue simply gave up trying to parse.
Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.
She reset the view and began a second scroll-through. A new criterion formed in her mind: it had to be roughly humanoid. Specifically, it needed to have arms and legs. Proper arms and legs. And a torso. And a head.
The thought of piloting some multi-limbed, geometrically aberrant horror with squealing tentacles held no appeal. She was an aesthete, and her canvas would be elegantly anthropomorphic.
That single, taste-based qualification alone narrowed the selection considerably.
As she meticulously scanned the pruned list, one race captivated her immediately. It was not the stat block that drew her eye, but the sublime body proportions. The default female High Elf model appeared: an elongated silhouette defined by improbably long legs, a willowy torso, and a statuesque height. Here was a ratio that resonated with her deepest sensibilities— a physical ideal of tall, slender grace. The avatar was undeniably, ethereally pretty. Even the default face possessed the delicate, otherworldly beauty of a classic bishoujo, refined to perfection.
A comparative analysis confirmed her initial impression. Among the elven variants, the High Elves were the tallest, their postures most naturally regal. Their necks were elegantly elongated and while the thigh-to-calf ratio was not quite the ideal she personally preferred, their overall visage and silhouette were unmistakably the closest to her mental image of a classic Tang dynasty super-princess. But a real test of elegance lay not just in stillness, but in motion. She began a meticulous analysis of the elf's movements in the preview window, paying close focus to each and every motion.
A few minutes later, Lanyue was now sure: theirs was indeed an uniquely fluid and almost weightless grace. In comparison, the generic Elf had a more grounded, earthy step, while variants like the Dark Elf moved with a quick, almost hurried energy that felt incongruent with the poised elegance she envisioned.
However, the true revelation was this: the High Elf's slender frame was a perfect canvas. Its long, clean lines were ideal for showcasing the flowing drapery of the Hanfu and Kimono robes she knew so intimately. Their pale, light complexions acted as a neutral backdrop— a living mannequin that would make any colour sing. She could already picture it: the stark vermillion of a Qipao popping against the alabaster skin, the deep indigo of a Jūnihitoe gaining a new richness, or the dreamy pastels of a Tang Ruqun appearing even more ethereal. Even the deep, dramatic shades of Gothic Lolita would find a perfect contrast.
This really was the physical manifestation of the grace and elegance she envisioned. The echoes to her own life was eerily similar. Its slender form reflected a life dedicated to precision and grace, not brute force. Its ethereal beauty echoed the refined aesthetics of the historical fashions she adored, and in a world that seemed populated by either bland humans, monstrous amalgamations, or burly demihumans, the High Elf was a statement. A statement of a commitment to ethereal beauty, artistry, and graceful, almost otherworldly poise.
It was, in every sense, a choice made for her.
She selected it.
A new screen presented itself in a gentle transition of windswept leaves, graceful birdsong, and peaceful echoes of nature. A new blank canvas appeared as the default high elven body materialised in front of her eyes, clothed in nothing but their smallclothes. With a gesture, Lanyue found she could rotate the model. Her eyes widened as she noticed the numerous translucent outlines over every part of the body— from the crown of the head to the tips of the toes— each one was a point of manipulation. She could even dictate the number of hair strands, their length, their precise location. Every detail was hers to command.
The sheer magnitude of adjustments available sent a wave of exhilaration, potent and pure, washing over her. Here was a sanctuary of idealised elegant physicality, a chance to craft a body unmarred by wear-and-tear, injury, or genetic limitation. She would adjust every single facet until it matched her perfect, personal concept of graceful elegance.
She never imagined that such a tool could exist within a game. A spark of gratitude for her brother's suggestion flickered within her. Without it, she might never have found this outlet for her creative fantasies.
And so, she began to focus on the base morphogenesis of her High Elf.
———
First, Lanyue began with the head, the portrait of her new identity. She worked like a sculptor, pushing and pulling at the digital clay until the facial structure was a perfect slender oval that tapered to a delicate chin. She honed the jawline until it was pronounced yet elegant, and sharpened the high cheekbones to such a degree that they cast striking shadows in certain angles of light. She then complemented this foundation with a highly arched brow ridge, leveraging the High Elf's inherent elegance to create a structure that seemed to emit a perpetual aura of elegance and aristocratic perceptiveness.
Satisfied with the bone structure, she moved to the finer details, starting with the most critical feature: the eyes. While she was not the most attentive student during biology, Lanyue knew from her personal experiences with makeup that the irises, the pupils, the ocular fossa depth and canthal tilts all had significant impact and were instrumental in achieving her desired image. She carefully pushed and pulled at her High Elf's eyes, magnifying whenever more granular detail work was required. Soon, she ended up with large, somewhat elongated eyes that had a slight flair at the outer corners, achieving a neutral, but slightly negative canthal tilt.
The nose was next. With adjustments to the nasal bridge and the dorsum profile, she produced an aquiline nose featuring a subtle, elegant arch and a slim bridge. The tips were sharp and refined.
After that came her elf's lips. Here, the philtrum length and the cupid's bow were paramount. With careful adjustments, Lanyue gave her elf a slender pair of lips crowned by a perfectly defined elegant cupid's bow.
A number of adjustments to the face later, Lanyue turned her attention to the ears— the quintessential mark of an elf. Here, however, she encountered her first true limitation. No matter how much she dragged and pulled at the vertices, the elf's pointed ears refused to elongate past a certain, seemingly arbitrary limit, causing a faint sigh of frustration to escape from her. She conceded unwillingly; while still elegant, she felt the signature points could have been just a touch longer, with more control over their angle of extension. It was a minor imperfection in her grand design, but one she noted with a perfectionist's irritation.
Next, she focused on the hair structure. The most time-consuming aspect was the colour. The palette was extensive, but the specific shade she envisioned— a white-beige with the pale, creamy warmth of raw premium silk— remained elusive. She sampled similar shades, but none possessed the subtle golden undertones she sought. She had originally imagined a colour of spectral iridescence, but it seemed she would have to compromise here as well.
Despite these minor setbacks, the system for manipulating individual hair strands was remarkably sophisticated. It allowed for granular adjustments to small bundles of hair, controlling their weight and behaviour in different sections. Bypassing the library of pre-made styles, she dedicated herself to crafting a custom hair profile. After considerable effort, she achieved a texture that was perfectly straight and silken, falling like heavy, luxurious curtains when animated. A specific hairstyle could be applied later; for now, the foundation was set.
With the head defined, it was now time for the body. The torso and core naturally became her first objective. To achieve her image of elegance, Lanyue opted for a tall, willowy and slender torso. She elongated it slightly beyond the default, crafting a silhouette that was slim and graceful. A flicker of dissatisfaction arose as she discovered the torso's elongation, like the ears, had a hard limit, preventing her from achieving the full, swan-like length she had envisioned.
Next, she meticulously sculpted the limbs. She gave the clavicle and shoulders a gently sloping line. Her most intricate work was on the inter-limb ratios, fine-tuning the proportions of the arms, thighs, and calves, paying careful attention to the femur, tibia, and fibula. She dialled the muscle definition down to a minimal ratio, as any pronounced musculature would clash with her idealised image of slender grace. Yet, despite her most minute adjustments, the perfect ratio— the one she could see so clearly in her mind— remained just out of reach. The result was close, achingly so, but not quite a perfect match.
The final foundational layer was the skin and its surface textures. By fine-tuning parameters for skin tone, quality, and a setting called "Nanosurface Vector-Tracing," she crafted a custom profile that closely mimicked a specific blend of porcelain and marble that she liked, infused with a hint of morning dew. The final result was a complexion that was pale and flawless, possessing the smooth, luminous quality of fine porcelain with a subtle, healthy vitality. Again, this was a close match, but perhaps just a touch off from her ideal.
With the basic morphogenesis layers done, Lanyue now started to fine tune her cosmetic and stylistic details. The first detail she changed was the eye colour. She meticulously selected a shade of striking, brilliant crimson that resembled polished garnets. Yet, a wave of disappointment washed over her as she browsed the special effects; none of the options— no inner glow, no subtle shimmer— provided the internal luminescence she desired for her elf's gaze.
The brows were a simpler affair. Within moments, she had shaped them to a soft, light taupe, a shade darker than her character's hair. They were medium in thickness with a graceful, slightly high arch— a perfect frame for the eyes.
Next came the makeup. While Lanyue's own daily application was typically handled by a stylist, she knew precisely the aesthetic she wanted. She searched for a specific burgundy and gold eyeshadow palette, only to be disappointed again. The available options were close, but none were the exact, rich hues she had envisioned. The lips, however, were more fortunate. She chose a rich, matte lipstick in a light shade of red berry, a classic that never failed.
Consoling herself with the thought that these details could likely be altered later in the game, she proceeded to the final category: the hairstyle. This decision was one of the quicker ones. She bypassed the more extravagant options and selected a long, elegant style that flowed seamlessly with the character's regal posture.
Finally, she arrived at what was probably the most personal setting: her character's default expression. This single choice gave her a pause far longer than any anatomical adjustment had. Her old self, the athlete, would have instinctively selected a beaming grin or a confident half-smile— the practiced persona of a champion. But now, she felt a different apprehension. This expression would define her new persona in YGGDRASIL. Should she don the familiar mask of happiness, even if it felt like a lie?
No, she resolved as a quiet firmness settled within her. I am done performing. I am done minding my expression for the cameras, for the fans, for the perfect image of an athlete who is only allowed to show true emotion after an ideal dive. I am no longer the Olympian Yugao Xia Lanyue. That life is gone.
But a chilling question followed that liberation: after painting a faux facade for so long, what was her true face? What was the default expression of the real Yugao Xia Lanyue, stripped of medals and expectations? She no longer knew. For most of her life, the only thing that had been real was the pursuit of the perfect dive; the persona was merely a tool to achieve it.
She scrolled gently through the options, quietly taking in the gallery of potential selves. She was adrift. Should she recreate the mask? Defiantly choose its opposite? Or simply retreat into neutrality? What did she genuinely feel, in this moment of creation? The question echoed, unanswered.
Her scrolling slowed as a specific neutral expression caught her eye. It was labelled: Neutral 3(-). She previewed it.
The avatar's face shifted. The irises were slightly veiled by lowered eyelids, the eyebrows settled into a flat, untelling line, and the lips rested in perfect, unsmiling stillness. It was a face of forlorn ambiguity— an inscrutable blank slate that felt like someone had taken the concept of a poker face and elevated it to an art form.
It was unreadable, it inspired a sense of careful apprehension, it conveyed a sense of dissociative emotional exhaustion. It was glum, glassy, and numb. It was her.
She recognised it. This hollowed-out calm, this serene detachment from feeling… this was the very expression that she wore at this moment.
She selected it.
With that, her elf was complete. She was not 100% satisfied with the physical compromises, but they were the best she could achieve within the system's limits. It was unfortunate, but ultimately beyond her control. A quiet, nagging thought persisted: if only there had been some way to remove or circumvent these constraints…
———
Having more or less finalised her character, Lanyue spent a few more minutes exploring the interface's various functions. Her attention was soon captured by a curious trolley icon nestled in the top-right corner. What does that do?
She gestured towards it and in an instant, her vision was assaulted by a rainbow avalanche of… stuff.
It was like some shopping mall's front page come alive. She saw a rotating carousel of "Deals," featuring garish letters in conflicting colours on massive banners flashing with urgency. One read: "LIMITED: Celestial Avatar Bundle - 50% OFF!" showing an angelic figure in radiant armour. Adjacent to it was something that briefly drew her interest: "NEW: Gothic Lolita Fashion Collection #3 - Just Added!" showing an collection of impossibly frilly black dresses. Just below that was another huge banner that blared: "TOP-UP BONUS: Double YGGDRASIL COINS Active!"
Then there was a scrollable horizontal nightmare below that had a ribbon of categories promising entire worlds of items: AVATAR, APPAREL, WEAPON SKINS, MOUNTS & PETS, CONSUMABLES, HOUSING, RACE/CLASS UNLOCKS, CONVENIENCE, CUSTOMISATION+, SUBSCRIBE & SAVE!, and so on.
And after that was the main grid where the madness truly began: a sprawling mosaic of countless item icons, none of which she recognised. A sparkling sword was next to a loaf of "XP Bread," which neighboured a Victorian-style couch, which sat beside a tiny, glowing dragon pet. There was no apparent logic to the sorting.
Navigating the digital tsunami of consumerism was overwhelming; it was like being lost in a massive flea market created from every conceivable market in Neo-Tokyo. Yet, as she waded through the mess, her eyes— trained to find the critical detail in a complex dive routine— instantly locked onto a single point of clarity: a prominent, golden-bordered panel titled "The Creator's Key - Monthly Subscription."
The tagline read: "Unlock Your Character & World's Potential!" with several bullet points containing information that made her metaphorically lean forward, her focus sharpening into the same analytical mode she used to deconstruct a dive frame by frame.
She saw:
Unlimited Cosmetic Slots: No more ten-outfit limit for saved appearances!
Advanced Body Morphology: Remove ALL limits on limb ratios. Sculpt the perfect you!
Unlimited Character Adjustments: Not satisfied with your character? Edit again!
Experience Gain Increase: Gain 100% more character & class EXP! Stop wasting time levelling when you could be exploring!
Inventory Slot Increase: Gain a permanent page of inventory slots!
Weight Limit Increase: Gain 100 KG immediately! Less trips to the storage!
Accessory Equipment Increase: Gain the ability to equip a total of 5 accessories!
Get rich quicker: Get a 30% tax refund from marketboard sales!
Save more: Enjoy a 10% Gold discount on all NPC services, including Clan & Guilds-related features!
Priority Login Queue & Server Access: Beat the crowd!
Note: The Creator's Key benefits do not stack. Consecutive purchases extend its duration.
Unlimited Cosmetic Slots. Advanced Body Morphology. Her pulse quickened. These were some of the exact tools she had lacked to create her perfect High Elf earlier! This was quite possibly the solution to every compromise she had just made.
Without a second thought, she added the subscription to her cart, selecting the yearly option for the best value.
Ding!
The cart responded with a cheerful notification.
Then she scrolled down and saw another golden-bordered panel right below, this one even more ornately decorated: "The Creator's Key+ - Additional Monthly Subscription."
Its tagline this time was more audacious: "Unlock Your Character & World's Actual Potential!"
It read:
Unlimited Dye Access: ALL outfit dye palettes are now unlocked!
Unlimited Colour Access: ALL colours are now available in character creation!
Perfect Body Morphology: Remove ALL limits on ALL character ratios in EVERY category. Sculpt the truly perfect you!
Drop Rates Increase: ALL drop rates are increased (multiplied) by 100%! Get what you need quicker!
Experience Gain Increase: Gain an additional 100% more character & class EXP! Get those levels even quicker!
Inventory Slot Increase: Gain another permanent page of inventory slots! Show off your slots!
Weight Limit Increase: Gain yet another 100 KG immediately! Make physical storage obsolete!
Accessory Equipment Increase: Gain the ability to equip a total of 10 accessories! (No need to buy them separately!)
Get rich quicker: Get an additional 10% tax refund from marketboard sales!
World-Level Priority Login Queue & Server Access: Beat the World!
Note: The Creator's Key+ benefits do not stack. Consecutive purchases extend its duration. You need the base Creator's Key for its effects to apply.
UNLIMITED dye and colour access. PERFECT Body Morphology. The base Key had offered a solution to her compromises. This… this offered dominion. It was the power to remove the word 'compromise' from the dictionary entirely.
This was a necessity! She added its annual subscription to her basket without hesitation.
Ding!
Lanyue was about to go complete her purchase when she realised she had yet to explore the shimmering, welcoming, CUSTOMISATION+ tab. She had almost missed the main event. With a gesture, the tab unfolded to reveal a treasure trove of items that called out directly to her inner aesthete.
Here, she found the final, specific aesthetic tools she needed.
She delved into the skin category and discovered a collection of items labeled "shaders"— a term she didn't fully understand, but their purpose was immediately clear. These were not just simple palettes like "pale skin" or "tan." They were advanced options with names like "Jade," "Alabaster," and "Moonlit Dew," each promising a unique luminosity and the option for custom subsurface scattering, mimicking the way light glows within real skin.
It was an arsenal of perfection. Without a second thought, she began adding them all to the cart in a rapid succession of cheerful chimes.
Ding!
Ding!
Ding!
Then her attention was immediately captured next by specialised eye effects. She saw within collections suitable for a rainbow of eye colours such as "Starlight Sapphire" and "Phantom Green" and also the crimson luminescence that she wanted. Several, in fact. With a now practiced and decisive motion, she begun adding them all into her cart.
Ding!
Ding!
Ding!
Ding!
———
Helheim. YGGDRASIL.
"Touch-san," Momonga called out. It was the day where Touch Me's sister was supposed to be logging into the game. The available clan members of Nine's Own Goal had gathered to wait, but after an hour with no sign of her, they had decided to kill some time by farming a few mobs on Helheim. "Are you sure she's in the game?"
Touch Me's platinum armour gleamed with a pale lustre under Helheim's cold, cloudy and perpetually bleak sky as he battled a Parasitic Maggot Mother— a mini-boss that resembled a bloated, pulsating maggot. Their clan leader skilfully evaded its attacks, managing its aggro alongside their main tank, the slime BubblingTeapot.
"I'm sure she entered YGGDRASIL," Touch Me replied, blocking one of the creature's parasitic sacs. "Though I don't know why she has yet to sent me a friend request."
From beside him, Warrior Takemikazuchi quipped, his katana a blur as he fended off additional mobs. "Maybe she got lost after character creation? The starter cities are huge. She might have ended up in a confusing one, like Al'dah. Damn place is a maze."
"But for an hour? Can you even get that lost?" Ulbert Alain Odle pondered. "The starter quest points you straight to the first teleport crystal and unlocks the social menu. It's like a five-minute jog, max."
"Hey, cut her some slack!" BubblingTeapot called out. "Maybe she's reading the lore books. Or got stuck in a dialogue tree with an NPC. You remember your first time, right? Everything was new."
"Yeah, Ulbert-san" Momonga agreed, remembering how confused he was when he entered the game. "Besides, it's the weekend, we've got plenty of time anyway. We can earn some more data crystals for that summoning side project of yours."
———
YGGDRASIL CHARACTER CREATION SCREEN. STORE SUB-MENU. Neo-Tokyo Omicron Medical University Hospital. Seiyō-no-Sekai (静養の世界). Top Floor. Neo-Tokyo. 2128.
Meanwhile, after a long cart-adding spree, Lanyue was about to leave the store. But the picture of an armour that was clearly inspired by Tang Dynasty robes caught her eye on the APPAREL page. With interest, she took a peek.
And she found a veritable treasure trove.
Not just Tang Dynasty robes.
Song.
Yuan.
Qin.
Han.
Ming.
Heian-era Jūnihitoe
Victorian gowns.
And so much more…
Lanyue began to carefully sift through the options, adding any ensemble that met her stringent aesthetic criteria. There were silks that shimmered with resplendent light, embroideries of impossible intricacy, and colours she had only dreamed of.
Ding!
Ding!
Ding!
Ding!
Ding!
And after that, her eyes briefly laid upon another item in the RACE/CLASS UNLOCKS category, noting a curious item named [The Seed of Lineages Unbound], promising miraculous, exclusive alterations for her character…
———
Helheim. YGGDRASIL.
30 Minutes Later.
"Touch-san," Warrior Takemikazuchi slammed his left fist into a mob as his right hand eviscerated another with one of his katanas. "I think she's got to be lost. Most newbie quests go in a straight line. The first one unlocks the social menu. Did she take a wrong turn somewhere?"
Touch Me's voice was still calm, but now held a curious edge. "Hmm. It is unusual. I expected a friend request by now. Yu— My sister is highly capable. Getting lost seems improbable."
BOOM!
Momonga's vision shook slightly as their World Disaster Ulbert Alain Odle casually overkilled a group of mobs with a Tenth-Tier destruction spell. "Highly capable in the real world, perhaps. This is YGGDRASIL. It has a learning curve."
A dry, knowing chuckle followed. "Or perhaps… she simply finds the starter gear aesthetically displeasing."
Peroroncino's lone voice rang out from the treeline. "Oh, I get it! She's definitely in character creation. Bet she's spending an hour just on the hips and chest. A true artist! I respect—"
"Shut up, dumbass little brother. Don't be a creep!" BubblingTeapot interrupted, one of her tentacles vibrating as she took on an attack with her Aegis shield. "I think it's wonderful she's taking her time. It means she's particular about the details. Also, stop landing your shots so close to me. In fact, why don't you just stop shooting altogether? At least that way I can actually see!"
As he waited for his skill cooldowns, Momonga added, "It could be the interface, it's not exactly the most intuitive for a new player. I remember my own confusion. Or perhaps, like Teapot-san said, she is simply being thorough."
They had now vanquished the entire hunting zone. Touch Me stowed his weapons back into standby, causing them to vanish out of sight. "You're probably right, Momonga-san. Thoroughness is her defining trait. Still... she is taking a while."
Ulbert added his own rather dry remark into the mix. "A prudent use of our time. Waiting for one person to admire their own reflection."
"Oh, hush, Ulbert-san!" BubblingTeapot oozed her way over. "You spent three days deciding on the exact shade of 'sinister red' for your cloak. I'm excited! A new girl to talk to! Maybe she'll want to see my slime fashion collection!"
"Well, it would be nice if she picked a support or healing class," Takemikazuchi joined the group, giving his arsenal of katanas each a forceful swing as he cleared the last of the monster goo and detritus from his blades. "We could always use more supports, especially when Yamaiko isn't around."
"Let's wait back at the rented guild hall," Touch Me suggested. "I'll give her thirty more minutes. If her request isn't here by then, I'll log out and check for her instead."
A round of nods answered their clan leader as they teleported back to their temporary guild hall.
———
YGGDRASIL CHARACTER CREATION SCREEN. Neo-Tokyo Omicron Medical University Hospital. Seiyō-no-Sekai (静養の世界). Top Floor. Neo-Tokyo. 2128.
Lanyue had now perfected her High Elf. However, there was one, no, two more steps before she can actually start playing the game as a player and not as a character-creator. She needed to choose a starting class and name her elf.
The first was a problem. The class list seemed endless, with hundreds of starting options and a note at the bottom hinting at thousands more.
This was daunting. What did she want to be in this world, where no one knew her past?
Her instincts pointed toward mobility-focused classes, options that would play to the strengths of her former life... but the thought left a hollow feeling. Would that not just be a constant, painful reminder of everything she had lost?
Perhaps she should do the opposite. Masayoshi had told her she could stand perfectly still if she wished. She recalled his words from a fortnight ago: Casters. They often remained immobile, he had said, wielding immense power from a stationary position.
Her gaze drifted over the caster classes. She scrolled past elementalists and necromancers until her eyes landed on one that made her pause. The preview depicted a female elf in exquisitely elegant robes adorned with celestial motifs, featuring an optional staff and interestingly, a floating star-globe along with an ornate deck of what appeared to be arcana cards. The ensemble projected a sophisticated, aristocratic beauty that resonated deeply with her own aesthetic.
Taking a closer look, Lanyue realised the class, called Astrologian, belonged to the support category. It was a magic caster who healed, shielded, and aided allies through the power of the cosmos. The text stated they could manipulate "probability and fate" via celestial divination. As a caster, their strength came not from movement but from a vast knowledge of the arcanum and the stars.
"Fate… huh," she muttered. "Well, Brother did say to just choose a healer if I was unsure. Might as well. My elf would look stunning in those robes."
She analysed the class in detail. "An intermediate class… requires Acolyte and Seer first… and a randomised card-drawing system that demands planning and flexibility." Her curiosity grew as she watched the skill preview. The display showed an array of shimmering stars and constellations. The elf caster stood at the centre of intricate magics, robes fluttering as waves of energy reverberated from her.
"She looks like a celestial weaver… weaving the fabric of reality. Changing destiny. In control of her own fate."
The spells were pretty. They were dazzling. They were absolutely mesmerising.
"Alright. I'll choose you then." She gestured her confirmation. Her High Elf did an excited but slightly restrained leap of jubilation at her selection, drawing a genuine smile to Lanyue's face.
She may have lost her physical mobility, but she still had her intellectual mastery. The Astrologian's aesthetic elegance would be her new armour, and perhaps with its power, she could command the very fate that had betrayed her in the real world.
The interface requested a second confirmation. She acknowledged. A soft, radiant glow enveloped her High Elf, accompanied by a shimmer in the air and the faint gilding of orbiting constellations. All that remained was a name.
"My name…"
Her elf was now looking straight at her, the brilliant crimson irises she had so meticulously chosen for her were tracking Lanyue's every movement— a silent plea for an identity. For a flashing, painful moment, the ghost of her old life surfaced. Yugao Xia Lanyue. The name that had echoed in stadiums, roared by crowds as she defied gravity and commanded the waters as her own. A name bound to a body that was now broken.
She scanned her avatar, now garbed in the default Astrologian robes before her. Though she understood it was just a preview, she saw an ethereal sorceress of impossible grace, a being of starlight and sophisticated poise, a vessel for the power she craved. She was everything she was not. And she would need to learn to be her from scratch.
A phrase surfaced in her mind, one her doctors had repeated with infuriating gentleness every time they met.
夕顔、 ゆっくり、ゆっくり。急がないで。
(Yūgao, Yukkuri, yukkuri. Isoganaide.)
慢慢来, 兰月。
(Màn Màn Lái, Lanyue).
Slowly, take your time. There is no rush, Lanyue.
Back then, it had felt like a sentence. A condemnation to a life of plodding minutes where seconds used to fly by. But now, looking at this powerful, timeless elf who was the idealised embodiment of the elegant grace that she admired, the words shifted. They were no longer a description of her limitation, but instead a strategy for her ascension.
She could not win with speed anymore. So she would win with patience. She would win with deliberation. Every celestial calculation, every drawn card, every unfolding of fate would be a step taken not in haste, but with the slow, inexorable certainty of a dawning tide.
A small, knowing smirk— the first genuine one in weeks— formed in her mind. It was a private joke between her and the universe. A defiant embrace of the very thing that sought to break her.
Her virtual fingers, elegant and whole in this digital world, flew across the floating keyboard. She typed the three characters that would be her new shield, her mantra, and her quiet rebellion.
慢慢来
Màn Màn Lái
The interface did not allow for special characters, so she entered the romanised name. She hovered over the confirmation button for a moment.
It was perfect, she thought.
It was the name of the person she would become, and the philosophy that would make her powerful again. She clicked Accept.
A final seal of light enveloped her High Elf, and ManMan Lai, the Astrologian who would one day weave reality itself, was born.
