God of Grinding

The veil of night clung stubbornly to Jakarta, a humid shroud pierced only by the occasional flicker of neon signs. Inside a cramped apartment, shrouded in the sickly green glow of a monitor, Alex remained an island of stillness amidst the city's restless slumber. His gaze, like a hungry predator locked on its prey, devoured the intricate tapestry woven on the screen—The Old Quest.

This digital realm, a siren song that had captivated the entire nation, had been his sole obsession for the past three months.

Unlike the fleeting thrills most players chased, Alex sought a different quarry: the elusive promise of an endpoint that shimmered just beyond the horizon. The Old Quest was an anomaly—a defiant entity that flung aside the shackles of a level cap, dangling the intoxicating lure of infinite progression before its enthralled audience. The alluring aroma of leaderboard success and sought-after loot drove millions of players into the game. But Alex, a lone wolf amidst this digital stampede, craved a different kind of satisfaction. He wasn't interested in fleeting victories; his hunger was for the esoteric knowledge whispered in forgotten corners, the privilege of unravelling the mysteries shrouded in the game's very fabric.

Acomalaka, his seasoned Sage avatar, stood as a testament to his dedication, his face etched with the marks of countless battles. Gone were the days of flamboyant outfits adorned with flashy baubles. Acomalaka's gear now possessed a utilitarian elegance, each piece meticulously crafted and imbued with arcane enchantments, whispering tales of countless hours spent delving into perilous dungeons and battling forgotten monstrosities. Dark circles shadowed Alex's eyes, a grim reminder of the relentless pace he'd maintained. Sleep was a luxury, meals snatched between grinds, and the world outside his window was a faded photograph compared to The Old Quest's captivating symphony.

"Shit was boring," slipped from Alex's lips like a bitter lament, echoing in the silence of his apartment. He leaned back in his chair, fingers drumming a restless rhythm on the keyboard, his mind a whirlwind of frustration and determination.

For three months, he had chased the elusive goal of levelling and being strongest, sacrificing sleep, sanity, and even human connection in his relentless pursuit. But now, as The Old Quest's digital landscape sprawled before him once more, a sense of ennui settled over him like a suffocating fog.

The bitter taste of repetition had tainted the excitement of discovery and the rush of overcoming obstacles, making them all seem hollow now. Every dungeon, every boss encounter, and every quest are mere echoes of past triumphs, devoid of novelty or excitement.

With a sigh, Alex's gaze drifted to the window, where the neon lights of Jakarta flickered in the darkness. Beyond the confines of his apartment, life pulsed with vitality and unpredictability. Yet here he sat, imprisoned in a numbing routine of endless grinding.

But just as despair threatened to consume him, a flicker of defiance ignited within. The monotony of his existence, trapped in a cycle of digital drudgery, refused to shackle him.

With a determined scowl, he reached for the mouse, his fingers moving with renewed purpose. If The Old Quest was a game of endless grinding, then he would become the master of its grind. He would uncover its secrets, conquer its challenges, and transcend the boundaries of mortal achievement.

[You levelled up to 600!]

"Finally," a wry smile played on Alex's lips as the system notification announcing his ascension to level 600 burned across his vision.

The elation he'd anticipated was absent, replaced by a hollow echo. Three months of relentless pushing, sacrificing sleep and sanity for a number that now felt meaningless...

The leaderboard, once a beacon that fueled his relentless grind, now lies dormant. No other player had even sniffed the level 600 threshold. He was an anomaly, a lone explorer at the edge of the known world. The closest competitor, a tenacious guild leader named "Bintang Malam" (Night Star), resided a paltry 68 levels below him, a testament to the sheer gulf Alex had created. The remainder of the leaderboard was a desolate wasteland filled with names frozen in time, their ascent permanently stalled at levels barely cracking triple digits. Alex, a solitary peak piercing the digital clouds, surveyed the barren landscape with a mixture of emptiness and morbid fascination. A gnawing sense of isolation had taken its place, replacing the thrill of competition.

"Guess I win," he muttered to himself, the victory feeling hollow. "Heh, I think it's finally time to rest for a moment," he continued.

A deep breath filled his lungs, dispelling the lingering ennui. The game's silence, usually a comforting backdrop, now felt ominous. A system-wide announcement, a rare occurrence in The Old Quest, had disrupted his routine just days prior.

[Congratulations, player Alexander! You have achieved the highest level in The Old Quest. Due to unforeseen circumstances, the game will be undergoing a permanent shutdown.]

Anger boiled within him.

"What the f***k!?" he yelled, slamming his fist on the desk.

The message had been a gut punch, a cruel joke after his relentless pursuit. But a sliver of curiosity remained. Unforeseen circumstances? What could possibly necessitate shutting down a game at its peak? The thought gnawed at him, fueling a new kind of hunger.

The hollowness that had settled in Alex's chest morphed into a burning ember of purpose. This wasn't a dead end, but a narrative shift—a challenge he hadn't foreseen. He wouldn't render three months of relentless pursuit meaningless.

Alex navigated through Acomalaka's deserted streets; the once vibrant town is now a ghost town of lost dreams. The air crackled with unspoken questions and simmering anger. Every face he passed mirrored his own initial shock—a hollowness replaced by a spark of defiance.

***

Crieeak! He pushed open the creaky tavern door, the hinges groaning in protest.

Inside, flickering lanterns cast feeble shadows, dancing amongst dust motes swirling in the stale air. The thick scent of ale mingled with something else—a metallic tang that sent a shiver down Alex's spine. A lone figure sat hunched over a table in the far corner, their backs to the entrance. Their hood, pulled low, cast long shadows that obscured their features.

"Is that…...a quest?"

A familiar golden question mark flickered above the figure's head, a jarring anomaly in a world devoid of quests. Scowling, Alex pressed the "O" key on his keyboard, a habit honed through countless hours of grinding. He toggled the "hide completed quests" option, confirming his suspicion: there were no remaining missions. Yet the glowing symbol persisted.

As Alex approached, the figure slowly lifted their head, revealing a weathered face etched with lines that spoke of experience. A glint of steely resolve flickered in their eyes.

"So, you're the one," the figure rasped, their voice a dry whisper that echoed in the cavernous silence. "The one who reached the impossible."

A few feet away, Alex stopped, and Acomalaka's staff held taut in his hand. "Who are you?" he asked, his voice wary.

"I am known as Kiara, Keeper of Forgotten Lore," the figure rasped, their voice tinged with a hint of weariness. "And this, my friend, is no ordinary quest."It's a chance to unravel the truth behind The Old Quest's sudden demise, and perhaps, a way to find a new beginning."

Alex's brow furrowed. Could there be a chance for answers, a purpose that went beyond the mere achievement of reaching level 600? Intrigue battled with suspicion in his mind.

"New beginning?" he repeated, his voice laced with skepticism. "What do you mean?"

Kiara leaned forward, her eyes glinting with an unsettling intensity.

"They say The Old Quest was more than just a game," she whispered, her voice barely above a murmur. "Some believe it was a gateway, a bridge to…unforeseen realities."

A shiver ran down Alex's spine. The cryptic message about unforeseen circumstances flashed through his mind.

"And reaching level 600," Kiara continued, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial tone, "may have just triggered something...monumental."

The revelation hung heavy in the air, thick with unspoken questions and a sense of impending adventure. A spark of something new, a hunger for knowledge and a thirst for the unknown, replaced the emptiness that had threatened to consume Alex after reaching the pinnacle of The Old Quest.

"Tell me more," the Alex character said, his voice filled with newfound determination.

"You don't need to hear more, I want you to experience it more."

Kiara's words hung heavy in the air, laced with an unspoken urgency. Before Alex could even formulate a response, she reached out and grasped Acomalaka's hand.

"Ackk!?"

Her touch emitted a blinding light, engulfing the entire tavern. Alex squeezed his eyes shut, a strangled cry escaping his lips as the monitor light intensified. Then, with a sensation of weightlessness and a rush of disorienting colours, the world dissolved around him.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

"Alex?" a woman's voice called out, laced with concern.

The knocking resumed, more insistent this time. 

The door creaked open, revealing his mother's worried face. "Hun, are you there? I brought you what you wanted. your favorite mac and cheese…"

Her voice trailed off as her gaze swept over the darkened room. She flicked on the light switch, illuminating the desk where Alex's computer sat dormant. The monitor, once abuzz with the digital world of The Old Quest, displayed a stark message in bold red letters:

[The Old Quest is Now Shutdown.]

"I guess he was outside, I'll wait for him to come back."

His mother mumbled to herself, a hint of disappointment in her voice as she closed the door, leaving Alex alone with the unsettling silence and the lingering echo of Kiara's words.

< Chapter 1 > Fin.