Chapter 1: Passed Unanimously

“‘Wanzu’ is about to launch a new expansion! Did you see the teaser PV? Looks like there’s going to be a new race!!”

“I swear, it’s been half a year since the last race dropped. I thought the Alliance R&D Department was completely out of ideas, but turns out they were cooking up something huge in secret! I can’t believe it!”

“Is that a new race? That’s your new daddy! Enough talk, I’ve got my money ready. Chasing Dragon Knight is so damn cool!!”

“The video’s been out for ten minutes and the official site’s already hit over a hundred million plays. ‘Wanzu’ really is the king, the most popular holo-game in all of Interstellar— no exaggeration!”

Ever since not long ago, similar conversations could be heard in every corner of the universe.

On city streets and in back alleys, the floating advertising projections replayed the promo PVs on a loop: blood-pumping music, thrilling visuals, a series of climaxes, dazzling fights and skills that got everyone’s hearts racing.

No wonder people joked the game studio should have been making movies instead— the spectacle stopped countless passersby in their tracks, eyes shining with excitement.

At the same time, every social board on the interstellar net was being flooded with dazzling new threads—

[Summary of Wanzu’s new race teaser video: max style points, I hereby crown it the new king of cool]

[Digging into the official name ‘Chasing Dragon Knight’: Who exactly are we chasing?]

[Offering big money for the identity of the helmeted NPC who flashed by at 3:22 in the trailer. I have a feeling that’s my new husband!!]

[30 minutes left till maintenance ends, waiting to log in the second it’s over— who’s joining me to start a new account and do the Chasing Dragon Knight storyline?]

*

—A spectacle like never before.

It was as if the spark of all Interstellar had been ignited by the arrival of this new race!

At the same time.

In a lush, verdant forest, sunlight streamed through the gaps between the leaves, dappling the ground. Morning dew still clung to the dense vegetation.

A breeze swept by, knocking a droplet from a leaf, startling a small animal drinking by the stream to look up, alert.

If any ‘Wanzu’ player were to come by, they’d instantly recognize this as one of the high-level danger zones you could only enter after maxing out your level— Yan Flame Mountain.

Yan Flame Mountain was a thousand-mile-long active volcano, home to a single Scale Bug— a species that, due to the lack of any true Dragon Clan in Wanzu, served as the stand-in for anything resembling a dragon or suspected to have dragon genes.

And the Scale Bug of Yan Flame Mountain was the top of the food chain among its kind.

It wasn’t even a ‘monster’ in the traditional sense— at least not in the eyes of players. In a player’s mind, a ‘monster’ is something you can fight and profit from.

But this creature could wipe out an entire party with a single breath of flame, far beyond their comprehension.

It was as if the devs had created it just to drive home the game’s ‘pursuit of realism,’ to remind players that there’s always someone— or something— stronger out there.

And it worked. Players now called this Scale Bug ‘Yan Death Lord.’ Anyone who saw it ran for their lives. Fortunately, its territorial instincts were so strong that it almost never left Yan Flame Mountain.

This forest, though technically part of the map, was only included because of its proximity to the mountain. The Yan Death Lord never came here.

At least, that was the case— until now.

Today, this dense, vibrant forest welcomed an enormous being that did not belong here.

A dragon-shaped beast swept overhead, bringing with it a wave of searing heat that cast a shadow over the land.

Leaves shriveled instantly under the temperature, insects and ants sensed the danger first, fleeing underground in a black, writhing river that rustled like a living nightmare.

The monstrous creature paid no attention to the fleeing wildlife. It wasn’t here to hunt; instead, it shot straight towards a specific destination.

Its breath spewed scorching sparks and toxic saliva, the whip of its muscular tail cracking the air like a sonic boom.

In this moment, perhaps only the creature itself could understand its own mood.

—Still not fast enough.

Its red scales seemed to burn with inner fire.

Moments later, it landed in a clearing. Fallen leaves swirled in the wind, thorny bushes were swept aside, revealing a half-human-tall egg lying quietly on the forest floor.

The egg was pure white, a single shaft of sunlight illuminating it, making it glow.

And almost as soon as it saw the egg—

“Boom!” It was like a meteor shower striking the earth, something exploded inside the beast’s chest, sending a wave of shock through its body.

So it wasn’t a hallucination after all—the aura and call it had sensed minutes ago, this was the source it had been searching for…!

The beast tensed every muscle, as if facing a great crisis— no, it was even more tense, more excited, more anxious, more restrained.

“The stronger the Scale Bug, the more solitary it becomes. Their territorial instincts are terrifying— they won’t tolerate anything foreign nearby. They don’t even need mates or offspring. What an unreasonable species! That’s why Scale Bugs are nearly extinct in the real world.” So says the most authoritative entry in the Cosmic Race Encyclopedia, the author’s words full of exasperated sighs.

With the Dragon Clan confirmed extinct, Scale Bugs— suspected inheritors of dragon blood— were especially valued.

And since Wanzu claimed to be the ‘most realistic’ holo-game, when it designed monsters based on Scale Bugs, it even faithfully recreated this infuriating trait.

By all rights, this egg, radiating such a strong presence, should have been treated just like any adventurer (player) who accidentally wandered into Yan Flame Mountain.

But the expected scene of claws ripping the shell apart never came.

Instead, the beast slowly lowered itself, panting heavily in agitation. Its chest rose and fell violently, but then it suddenly held its breath, as if afraid to disturb something.

After a moment, the beast— rigid, every scale trembling— took a step forward. Unlike the dramatic entrance, this step was as cautious as if it were treading on thin ice.

It stretched its head, inching closer to the egg, eyes locked on it. Even so, it kept a meter’s distance— that was its limit. Any closer, and it might lose all control, driven mad by the turmoil in its chest.

And then—crack!

The egg suddenly split.

Beast: !!!!!!!!

Its pupils shrank to razor slits, a wild, unreasonable emotion crashing through it, swelling its chest—

This was the most critical moment for the egg, the most fragile moment for a life.

The egg was now in danger.

As more and more shell fragments fell, the beast clenched its teeth, its scales burning red.

Any scholar familiar with rare cosmic species would have been terrified by the sheer aggression it now radiated— not toward the egg, but toward anything that might threaten it.

No approaching, no stray thoughts, no sound. No risk could be tolerated, no trace allowed, or the ruthless guardian would destroy the threat instantly.

During this tense time, the creature inside the egg went from awkward attempts at breaking the shell to confidently punching out a fist-sized hole.

Sunlight streamed through the gap, illuminating the being inside—

It was a ‘person.’

Or rather, he looked human. Golden hair fell quietly over his forehead, a lock at his temple drifting in the breeze, brushing his fair, soft cheek. He looked about seven or eight, sitting docilely in the egg, flawless and dreamlike…

—Until he slowly raised his eyes.

A pair of golden eyes, dangerously beautiful, not human at all.

Anyone who saw those eyes would instantly realize this wasn’t the creature’s true form.

In Interstellar, it wasn’t uncommon for powerful species to use ‘mimicry’ in their youth, disguising themselves as weaker beings to avoid unknown dangers.

The boy sitting in the shell was especially quiet, his gaze unfocused. Even with the giant beast staring right at him, he didn’t react, as if his attention was elsewhere.

The truth was, Beiyuan was currently overwhelmed by the ‘knowledge’ being dumped into his mind.

Beiyuan, once one of the earliest pro players in the dawn of holo-gaming. He’d left his mark briefly, then vanished like a shooting star, retiring due to illness—and then dying.

Yes, he should have been dead… Yet now, he seemed to have come back in another form.

The ‘data’ in his mind told him it was now Star Epoch 2218— in other words, twenty years had passed since his death!

Don’t underestimate twenty years—in the information and technology explosion of the Interstellar era, that’s enough time for a backwater third-class star to leap into a new civilization.

A day in the mountains, a thousand years in the world.

Beiyuan blinked slowly— his visual data was still calibrating, so all he could see was a blur of red and feel the searing heat.

He also heard another being’s breathing nearby— though the other tried to be quiet, his new body’s senses were so sharp he caught it easily.

He tried tilting his head and was rewarded with an even more intense, focused gaze, but nothing else; the other didn’t seem hostile.

As his mind finished unpacking the ‘data packets,’ he finally understood his situation—he’d become a newborn NPC in ‘Wanzu.’

Beiyuan found a record titled ‘NPC Character Design Seminar’ in his mind.

The author had written: “I still don’t agree with the R&D Department’s proposal. They’re doing something very, very, very dangerous! I’ve told them countless times how obsessed some races are with tracing their roots— especially the Saen Clan, who are convinced they’re dragon descendants and are fanatical about their supposed ancestry. But the Dragon Clan has been extinct for a thousand years— who’s ever seen one!? You haven’t, I haven’t, not even they have!”

“Unknown means danger. That species is just a legend now! And the R&D Department—a bunch of ambitious dreamers—insist they’re creating a miracle. Bullshit! They’re creating a taboo!”

“Until the new expansion is released, even the trailers will have the Propaganda Department keep this secret. We hope the final character will be accepted peacefully— treated as just another NPC, ignored… Okay, I know that’s impossible. His birth is bound to stir up a storm of blood. I sincerely hope the extreme Dragonism of the Saen Clan (especially since they’re one of the most influential members of the Universe Council) can stay rational about this.”

Beiyuan, thinking of something, quickly scrolled to the end of the document. There, he saw—

“NPC Codename: Glory Knight, set as Knight Commander of all Chasing Dragon Knights, the last true dragon in the universe.”

“This is the seminar’s final resolution, passed unanimously.”

Beiyuan: “…”

That doesn’t sound good.

So, just what kind of trouble had he become?