May 2nd, 2134

The lines between reality and video games had blurred into a smudge during the development of virtual reality technology. Without hesitation, the Bavarian order had seized the opportunity in their lust for the creation of a superior, perfect society.

Darius Roth, CEO and founder of Synaptic Entertainment, sat in silence and adjusted his masquerade-style mask beneath his silken robe hood. A tingle of unease settled on his shoulders as the order leader banged his staff against the marble floor. The murmurs faded after a soft heartbeat.

“Is the forecast ready?” The order leader’s voice was quiet and textured.

“Ah… Yup!” a member said, seated ten or eleven seats to the right of Darius. “It finished processing the other night.” A young female to his surprise. The average age of the order was over forty.

“Play it.”

She chirped, “Okey-dokey.”

Very young. She sounded like a late-teen or a woman in her early twenties still in a cutesy-act phase to lure boys. How had she been anointed into the upper ranks? It must’ve been a family connection. She probably had been tasked with babysitting the quantum supercomputers… though that wouldn’t explain her presence at this high-ranking meeting. Only the inner-circle and need-to-knows attended.

Darius reasoned: she was given a major role for this particular mission.

The girl thumbed a remote, and a holographic projector beamed a 2D video onto the wall. A mere two-minute probabilistic glimpse into the future had taken over eight months to compute. Even the latest quantum chips struggled with this type of modeling. Though this was one of a trillion possible futures, some outcomes were more probable than others.

The hologram expanded to the ceiling and adjacent walls, filling the entirety of Darius’ field of view. It was a scene from within Aeon Chronicles Online, Synaptic Entertainment’s upcoming revolutionary fully-immersive virtual reality game. Darius was immersed in the sight and sounds within seconds. Rising in pace, a steady beat thumped in his chest and neck

A man clad in armor made of an unfamiliar, light-blue metal walked down a hallway. The walls appeared to be cut from granite. The floor was tiled with polished diamond blocks of intricately carved marble. Frosted, colored windows passed every five meters. He stopped at a large, wooden double door. Two men wearing steel ring-mail saluted him. “Sire,” they greeted without eye contact.

The man nodded, then waved his glowing gloved hand in a half-crescent pattern. A small ruby embedded under the handle lit up with a similar glow before the door swung open. He entered and stopped before a brunette man standing behind a desk and looking down at a map and piles of parchment. The Fire Mage’s crimson eyes swirled with liquid flaming mana.

“Report, Knight LightSlayerX,” the lord said. His voice was smooth and attractive.

“The darkness shrouds our enemy’s movements. The Undead quickly spreads, and our forces weaken by the hour. Greenwood, the Water Mages’ Spire, the Great Library. All fallen.” The knight shook his head, sighing. “We have to abandon the northern kingdom and hold a line in the crossing.”

The lord glared. A wave of heat engulfed the knight. “Unacceptable.”

“My lord, please reconsider—”

“You know very well what will happen if Black ascends to a tier ten boss. We must reinforce Icemeet at all costs.”

Black? Was that someone’s name?

Darius looked left and right, finding most of the meeting also showing signs of confusion. The in-game name had changed since the last forecast. So the operation leaders must’ve altered the plan, he reasoned. Secrecy and compartmentalization were paramount to success.

The knight grunted in frustration. “The other factions are more than capable of holding the other two seals—”

Quakes rippled through the building. The knight spun, his sword and shield already drawn in a defensive stance. An aura of gold and white light erupted from his chest, and his rune-etched blade glinted with mana. The edge blazed with fiery light.

The right-side windows shattered. A blast of razor frost detonated, blowing apart the wall. Ice stormed the room in a rage while the lord channeled a bubble of fire, saving himself from the fallout. The knight wasn’t as lucky. He laid bleeding, half-frozen by blocky shards of ice and snow. A jagged piece of granite jutted out of his skull. The hyper-realistic sight made stomach acid swish up Darius’ throat.

A staff of gold and ruby in hand, the Fire Lord disappeared in a swirl of flame and reappeared by the destroyed wall. He gazed at similar icy blasts raining down onto the outpost. Troops and workers screamed and ran helplessly.

Just as he began chanting in the game’s magical language and motioning with his staff, flying monstrosities descended from dark-gray clouds riddled with blackish miasma. Three enormous bone drakes hurled frothing rockets of obsidian ice and mist. A swarm of skeletal creatures circled the flying artillery.

Then a deluge of snowy ice saturated with black miasma flooded the projection.

The projection buzzed with static noise. A quick jolt of surprise whipped through Darius before Channel One’s news reporter blinked into view.

“The hacker Rowan Black is still at large. Despite the authorities’ suggestion to stay away from the game known as Aeon Chronicles, people are still camping outside stores worldwide to order a home FIVR setup. This is madness, folks.”

The video cut. Darius stared into the pitch blackness, mouth agape as murmurs whispered throughout the sealed chilly hall. Not only had the in-game name changed, but it was now identical to the real-life counterpart. It was a name which wasn’t present in the order, not even in the lower ranks and puppet list. Something had gone wrong—or was about to go wrong.

The order leader spoke, “Probability and timeframe?”

The girl skipped over to the holographic projector’s connected computer. She read, “Exactly two years and four days from now, accurate to within seventy-six-point-three-nine percent. Plus or minus twenty-point-four depending on a large set of variables.” The room quieted for three heartbeats before louder mutters and murmurs broke out.

Seventy-six percent. The number echoed in Darius’ head. This future bordering on dystopia was one of the highest-probability forecasts yet. What had his brother done? He had opened Hell’s gate by creating this new virtual reality tech.

A member sitting next to the leader stood and headed for the terminal in a familiar gait. Darius could feel the bitter displeasure radiate off his brother’s robes. He was a man who rarely appreciated unexpected hitches in his plans.