Black Crown Online was supposed to be just another full-dive VRMMORPG—except it wasn't. Unlike every other game on the market, BCO was entirely created by AI. Not just run by it. The AI made other AIs, shaped the world, and governed it as a digital god.
Asher, a college student with too much free time and too few friends, had pre-ordered Black Crown Online three years ago. The game promised a fully immersive, evolving world crafted by an artificial intelligence that didn't just follow rules—it made them.
And today was release day.
"Finally, the end of the semester!"
Asher didn't care how he did on the exams. Freedom was freedom. With barely a moment's delay, he bolted home, dropped his bag, and set up his VR gear with the precision of someone who had rehearsed this ritual a hundred times. Comfortable clothes? Check. Snacks? Check. Water bottle? Check. VR device plugged in? Double check.
He laid back on his bed, took a deep breath, and muttered:
"Link start—nah. Let's do this. Play: Black Crown Online."
His consciousness faded, melting into virtual space.
Then… he opened his eyes.
No bright village square.
No cheerful NPCs.
No character customization menu.
No tutorial fairy.
Just darkness.
A wide, crumbling throne room stretched before him, lined with rusted armor stands, fractured statues, and tattered banners. There was no visible light source, yet the room glowed with a muted, eerie ambiance. Asher sat on something cold and firm—something that felt too... significant.
A throne.
"What the hell?"
He tried to stand. His body wouldn't move.
Something was wrong. Terribly wrong.
He called out. No response. Tried again. Still silence.
Instinctively, he opened the game menu, hoping to reboot, reselect, anything. But all he saw were two things that made his stomach twist:
The Help button was grayed out.The Logout button was, too.
His chest tightened.
He tapped Logout once.
Twice.
Ten times.
Nothing.
His hands trembled. He tried shouting again—but the silence swallowed everything.
Desperate, he opened his inventory.
No food.
No starter weapon.
No tutorial items.
Only... a card.
It shimmered darkly in his inventory—black, edged in gold, with a crown insignia on one side and a strange star on the other.
He inspected it.
[Black Crown: Star]
Fifth of its kind.
Holds the potential of a star yet to rise.
Usable only by: Asher
He didn't hesitate.
Will you use [Black Crown: Star]?
Y/N
"YES!"
Will you regret it?
Y/N
"NO!"
His body flashed with light.
Then… nothing changed.
No transformation. No dramatic power-up.
He was still sitting on the damn throne.
"DAMN IT!"
He shouted—and to his shock, his body moved. He could stand. The throne, it seemed, had released him.
"Huh?"
Relieved, even if just for a moment, Asher didn't waste time. He descended the throne's steps and rushed toward the massive gate at the far end of the chamber.
Just as he pushed against it—
[Access Denied]
A dull chime echoed as red symbols flickered across the surface of the gate. He was locked in.
And then—
"King…"
He froze.
The lifeless chamber stirred.
The cracked statues' eyes began to glow faintly.
The once-empty armor suits creaked and groaned, rising to their feet—and kneeling.
"We... await... your orders..."
Asher stood motionless, heart pounding.
What the hell is happening?!