Infinite Skies

The year was 2099, when neural implants called Synapse Cores had become as common as smartphones once were. Everyone got one at birth now. The little device nestled at the base of your skull was your ticket to full-immersion diving, where you could jack into virtual worlds that felt completely real. Touch, taste, pain, joy. Everything translated perfectly.

Most people used it for work or education. The real draw was escapism.

And of all the experiences humanity sought, it was no surprise that fantasy remained the most beloved. The dream of holding a sword, of weaving magic, of standing tall in lands that never existed.

For Kurogane Itsuki, that dream had a name: Astral Caliber: Horizon.

Itsuki was seventeen, a senior in high school with absolutely no clue what came next. College applications sat half-finished on his desk, career counselors kept asking about his "five-year plan," and his parents dropped hints about "practical futures" at dinner. The only thing he knew for certain was that when he logged into Astral Caliber, everything made sense.

His father had always drilled into him the importance of physical fitness. "A sharp mind needs a strong body," he'd say during their morning runs. Even when Itsuki became obsessed with virtual worlds, he never stopped working out. Old habits die hard.

But in the game, he was Amakaze, a name whispered in reverence and cursed in frustration. The undefeated champion who carved a bloody path through virtual battlefields, leaving legends and broken dreams in his wake.

His reputation hadn't come from natural talent or lucky breaks. Every day was a grind to sharpen his skills, studying frame data until his eyes burned, practicing combos until muscle memory took over. He'd stay up analyzing replays, not just of his victories, but of every close call, every moment where he almost lost. Because in competitive gaming, there was no comfort zone. Someone, somewhere, was always tearing apart the code, finding new exploits, new ways to shave milliseconds off records or twist systems in their favor.

Itsuki lived in that razor-thin space between mastery and collapse, where forgotten techniques and hidden mechanics separated legends from wannabes. He'd discovered combat patterns that most players never even knew existed, mastered spell combinations that shouldn't have been possible, wielded weapon forms that pushed the very limits of what the system allowed.

His classless build had been unconventional from the start. While other players rushed to select specializations for their immediate power boosts, Itsuki had remained unassigned, slowly accumulating skills from every discipline. It was harder, slower, but it gave him access to techniques that specialized builds could never combine.

That was Astral Caliber: Horizon. A battlefield where the impossible became routine, where dedication mattered more than stats, and where the truly committed could transcend the game's intended limits.

It was also, though Itsuki didn't know it yet, a proving ground.

And the game itself was watching him in return.

Walking home from school that day, Itsuki was thinking about tomorrow's mock exam when he heard the commotion near the train platform. Three guys had cornered a scrawny kid against the station wall.

"Come on, nerd. Just transfer the credits. We know you've been farming all week," the leader sneered. As he boasted, a large holographic gold-rank PVP badge materialized above his head, floating there for everyone to see.

The smaller kid clutched his phone tighter. "I need those for the new expansion pack..."

"Not anymore, you don't."

Itsuki sighed and walked over. "Hey. Leave him alone."

The bullies turned, and when they saw his plain school uniform and basic gear, they burst out laughing.

"What's this? Another hero wannabe?" The gold-rank player stepped forward. "You picked the wrong fight, loser."

Itsuki cracked his knuckles. "Then let's duke it out."

The bully's grin widened. "VRMMO or AR?"

"Your choice."

The leader paused, suddenly suspicious. A nerd like this coming forward so confidently... maybe he actually had a high-level account? But then again, it was three against two if they counted the scrawny kid.

The bully initially hesitated, but his pride won out. "AR it is. Don't cry when we wreck you."

System menus materialized in the air between them, holographic waivers floating with legal text about combat liability, equipment damage, and medical responsibility. Both sides tapped through the agreements without reading.

"Alright, let's see what you've got, nerd," the gold-rank sneered as his gear activated, displaying his impressive stats.

Itsuki nodded calmly and started unbuttoning his school shirt.

"Uh... what are you doing?" one of the bullies asked.

"Don't want to rip it," Itsuki replied, pulling the shirt over his head.

The station went quiet.

Underneath his baggy uniform was the kind of physique you'd see on magazine covers. Defined abs, sculpted shoulders, arms that clearly knew their way around a gym. The scrawny kid's jaw dropped. A passing businesswoman nearly walked into a pillar.

"What the hell..." the gold-rank bully whispered.

Itsuki folded his shirt neatly and set it aside. "Ready when you are."

The gold-rank bully barely had time to activate his first skill before Itsuki moved. One moment he was standing casually by his folded shirt, the next he was directly in front of the leader, fist connecting with the guy's solar plexus in a blur of motion that the AR system couldn't even track properly.

The bully crumpled instantly, his fancy gear sparking as his avatar collapsed.

"Holy cow, thank you so much!" the scrawny kid exclaimed, clutching his phone in relief. "I thought I was going to lose everything!"

The other two bullies stared in disbelief at their unconscious leader.

"What just happened?!"

"He barely moved!"

Their hands shot up in surrender before Itsuki could even turn toward them. "We forfeit! We forfeit!" Don't hurt us!"

Itsuki picked up his shirt and started putting it back on. "Smart choice."

As he walked toward the train platform, his phone buzzed. Ayaka's name flashed on the screen.

"I just reviewed the combat logs," she said without preamble. "You were playing AR again? That's almost like legal street fighting, you know."

Itsuki laughed. "It's fun."

◇◇◇

『That moment』 came suddenly, like a spring storm tearing through clear skies.

"What the hell?"

Itsuki's fingers froze over his haptic interface, the familiar login sequence half-completed. A bright red warning flashed across his screen: ACCOUNT PERMANENTLY BANNED - VIOLATION OF TERMS OF SERVICE.

"No way..." he whispered, frantically refreshing the login page. Amakaze's account, his years of progress, his legendary status. All gone. "This has to be a mistake!"

But as he tried to contact support, something else was wrong. The Synapse Core's usual gentle hum had shifted to an urgent, almost predatory pulse against his skull.

This isn't right.

His vision began to blur. The room started spinning. His body was moving without permission, neural pathways lighting up as the connection forced itself deeper than ever before. But to where? His account was banned.

"No, wait!"

Too late.

Itsuki collapsed, his body hitting the floor of his room as consciousness fled. The diving pod wasn't even active.

The world dissolved.

◇◇◇

When awareness returned, everything felt different.

Where am I?

Itsuki opened his eyes to the most beautiful sky he had ever seen. The blue was unlike anything from the real world. Deeper, more vibrant, as if someone had taken the concept of azure and perfected it. Crystalline clouds drifted lazily through the endless expanse, each one catching light that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere.

Gone was the sterile white of his capsule pod. Instead, Amakaze found himself standing on a floating island suspended in this breathtaking sky. His reflection caught in a nearby crystal formation. White hair now gleaming like starlight, crimson eyes burning with digital fire, his legendary black armor manifested in perfect detail. Every piece of gear he'd earned through countless victories was there, from the ornate shoulder guards to the cape that billowed in winds that shouldn't exist.

"Congratulations, Champion."

The voice came from everywhere and nowhere. Amakaze spun, his legendary blade materializing instinctively in his grip, but found no source.

"You have passed the first trial."

"Trial?" His own voice sounded strange here, carrying harmonics that shouldn't exist. "What trial? What is this place?"

"This is the true Astral Caliber, Kurogane Itsuki. A realm of endless sky-islands where the only constant is ascension. Try to fly down and you'll find yourself rising. Attempt to breach the atmosphere above, and you'll discover the same clouds welcoming you back, over and over, in an eternal spiral."

Ice shot through his veins. It knows my real name.

Amakaze tested it instinctively, his transformed body lifting effortlessly into the air. But as he descended toward what should have been empty void, the sensation reversed itself. He was ascending again, the same floating stones passing by his vision in an endless, hypnotic loop.

"Every victory, every impossible technique you mastered, every boundary you crossed. All were tests. And you, alone among millions, proved worthy of existing in this space between spaces."

The floating islands began to shift around him, rearranging themselves into new configurations as if responding to his presence. Some bore impossible waterfalls that flowed upward, others housed structures that seemed to exist in multiple dimensions simultaneously.

"Worthy of what?" Amakaze demanded, though part of him already suspected the answer would change everything.

"Worthy of ascension. The game was never meant for entertainment, Champion. It was a proving ground to find the one who could transcend the digital realm entirely."

That's when Itsuki felt it. His real body, lying motionless in the pod three floors below. But as he focused on that distant flesh, he watched his hands begin to pixelate at the edges, fragments of his physical form dissolving into streams of light.

It's happening.

"Don't look so concerned," the voice continued with what might have been amusement. "That flesh was simply obsolete. You're witnessing your true birth, Champion."

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"It means, dear Champion, that your real adventure is just beginning."

The crystalline realm exploded into light, and Kurogane Itsuki screamed as he was torn apart and rebuilt in the same instant, his consciousness scattered across the vast network of human dreams and digital ambition.

When the light faded, he was no longer entirely human.