The Unawakened and a Digital Reality

Even champion mid-laners become irrelevant, let alone ordinary people?

As an ordinary individual, Mingqian had always believed in one principle: one must seize the sole opportunity presented in this lifetime!

That voice pulled him back to reality.

“Next, Mingqian.”

Teacher Li’s voice was unremarkable, yet for every student, this moment would signify a pivotal turning point in their lives.

Mingqian took a deep breath, rising from the corner of the last row.

The screech of chairs dragging across the floor was jarring, but not a single person turned to look at him.

All eyes were fixated on the translucent crystal, nearly half a person’s height, at the front of the classroom—the “Spirit Root Detector”

(TL Note: A device used in Chinese fantasy settings to test one’s innate talent for cultivation or supernatural abilities.) distributed to every school by the Federal Government.

Mingqian could feel the sweat in his palms.

Since the Red Tide swept across the globe, the world had ceased to be as it once was.

Some individuals inexplicably gained supernatural abilities, capable of manipulating elements, reading minds, and even foreseeing the future.

Some called it the “Spiritual Qi Resurgence” (TL Note: A common trope in Chinese web novels where spiritual energy returns to the world, granting people supernatural powers.), a “New Era of Human Evolution,” and social media was awash with dazzling videos featuring Awakened Ones.

Mingqian, however, was one of the powerless, having undergone three tests without any sign of awakening.

His steps felt heavy as he approached the podium, aware of the myriad gazes from his classmates behind him: pity, indifference, and an undeniable air of superiority.

In this new world, unawakened individuals like them were politely referred to as “Insulators” (TL Note: A polite term for those who have not awakened supernatural abilities, implying they cannot conduct spiritual energy.), but privately, a more popular term was—worthless.

“Don’t be nervous, Mingqian.”

Teacher Li pushed up his glasses. “Relaxing might make it easier to sense something.”

He nodded, pressing his palm against the cold crystal.

Inside the crystal, a shimmering flow of light erupted, countless minuscule points swirling like a galaxy.

Ten seconds, twenty seconds, a minute.

The crystal pillar remained utterly clear and transparent, showing no change in color.

[Mingqian, Unawakened]

Only a cold, detached notification echoed around him.

In the dead silence, someone couldn’t help but let out a laugh.

“Still the same as ever, huh.”

“This is the third time, isn’t it? Given up yet?”

Teacher Li sighed, drawing an ‘X’ next to his name on the roster.

“Unawakened. Next, Zhang Hao.”

He returned to his seat, moving as if in a daze, feeling the stinging prickle of their gazes.

“Don’t take it to heart, okay?”

Only she would offer him a sweet, reassuring smile, then softly comfort him.

Bai Wanting was one of the school’s most powerful ability users, and also his childhood sweetheart.

She looked at Mingqian with concern. Mingqian shook his head, indicating he was fine.

In such a situation, even the gentlest words of comfort could become a sharp blade aimed directly at him.

Though he was unwilling to admit his weakness, reality still delivered a crushing blow.

“Don’t lose heart…”

As he passed, the girl lightly tugged at the corner of his sleeve.

Despite the subtle gesture, it still brought him a faint spark of warmth.

His deskmate, Li Ming—who had awakened Strength Enhancement a week prior—deliberately leaned his chair back, almost entirely blocking Mingqian’s path.

Mingqian said nothing, simply squeezing sideways into his allotted space. This place was truly insufferable.

This world was truly awful!

“My bad, I’m still not used to controlling my muscles lately.”

Li Ming declared without an ounce of sincerity, faint golden patterns flickered beneath the skin of his arm.

Mingqian shook his head, pulled out his phone, and tapped on the familiar icon—Phantom Realm.

This was a globally popular MMORPG whose main story involved a benevolent hero slaying a wicked dragon. After the Red Tide arrived, player numbers sharply decreased as everyone was busy leveling up in the real world.

Only in the game was Mingqian the sovereign.

Back in reality, he would once again become that timid, submissive youth.

That night, it snowed continuously. Even after he had finally cleared the game, the snow didn’t stop, nor did he transmigrate into the game world.

“Sigh…”

He opened his phone and sent a message to his friends’ group: [Phantom Realm final boss cleared].

With that, all playable content for the game had been exhausted. The official developers had announced a halt to updates after the Red Tide arrived.

Yet, for some unknown reason, the game continued to operate as before.

The hero ultimately defeated the evil dragon and lived a shamelessly blissful life of love and devotion with the princess.

“How wonderful.”

But he could only stare blankly at his phone screen. What was he to do next?

He was utterly alone, and in this era, not only had he failed to awaken any supernatural abilities, but he was also living an unremarkable existence.

Approximately a few minutes later, a message popped up on his phone. The avatar was a white-haired beautiful girl—Inarei, a character Mingqian was very fond of.

“So amazing! Want to run a dungeon with me tonight?”

The person with the Inarei avatar spoke in a girlish tone.

But Mingqian knew that very few real-world women used anime beautiful girls as avatars, and even fewer actual beautiful girls would.

More often than not, it would be a dark-skinned, foot-scratching brute of a man.

However, even if it were a man, he would still be happy to have someone play games with him.

Including him, there were three people in this group. They always played similar games, and over time, the three of them had forged a friendship.

The ID for this avatar was Su Wanwan; even the ID itself sounded very girlish.

And the other, an avatar of a blonde vampire, was also from an anime Mingqian loved to watch. Its ID was Miss Nüting.

By the way, his name was Xiaoqian, using his real name online.

But it was always wiser not to trust everything encountered online.

Soon, a private chat window popped up before him.

Su Wanwan: “Hey!”

Mingqian: “Oh…”

In Mingqian’s eyes, Su Wanwan was an incredibly vibrant person, almost his complete opposite.

Su Wanwan: “Xiaoqian, why do you seem so down? What’s wrong? Were you bullied?”

Mingqian: “No, just zoning out.”

Su Wanwan: “Hmph~ No zoning out! I even made a point to chat with you.”

Mingqian gave a wry smile. ‘This guy is truly addicted to playing the role of a woman,’ he thought. ‘Could they be a femboy (TL Note: A slang term for a male who dresses or acts in a feminine manner, often used in a slightly derogatory or questioning way.) in real life?’

In that case, he would truly be quite disinclined.

Mingqian: “Don’t say such cloying words, you’re not a girl.”

Su Wanwan: “Of course I’m a girl. What, Xiaoqian, you still don’t believe me?”

Mingqian: “It’s not that I don’t believe you, it’s that it’s impossible.”

After all, how could a beautiful girl truly be addicted to online games and care so much about him?

It must just be a guy using him as a mere tool.

The message from the other end didn’t reply for a while. He thought the message might not come again.

Like many friends who had slowly drifted apart, they simply stopped sending messages to each other by unspoken agreement after that day, only to find no further news since.

Cherry blossoms fall at five centimeters per second. How long, then, did it take for a message to truly arrive?

But then, his phone chimed softly once more.

Su Wanwan: “[Image]”

Su Wanwan: “Speak! Am I not pretty enough? What exactly are you dissatisfied with, Xiaoqian? >_<”

Mingqian opened the image, immediately speechless. Her long, lustrous black hair was meticulously gathered into a bun at the nape of her neck, with a few artfully scattered strands accentuating the graceful curve of her pale, swan-like throat.

She exuded a serene, scholarly air, tranquil as still water, a composure and elegance cultivated over years steeped in the fragrance of ink.

Even the most ordinary dark school uniform fit her perfectly, crisp and neat, a meticulously tied bow at the collar delineating the slender yet elegant lines of her shoulders and neck.

He found himself utterly captivated by her exquisite figure; if she were to truly cosplay Inarei, one might even say she was the character brought to life.

He had always believed he only loved two-dimensional characters, but now, that excuse seemed to be failing him.

He admitted he truly found the girl’s figure in the picture appealing.

Su Wanwan: “Nah nah nah nah nah”

‘The veteran anime fan has arrived,’ he thought.

Su Wanwan: “Xiaoqian? Xiaoqian? Xiaoqian? You’re looking, aren’t you?”

Mingqian: “This is an internet picture, right?”

Mingqian: “I’m a hardcore virgin, you can’t fool me, hmph, impossible.”

Su Wanwan: “What about this, then?”

Su Wanwan: “[Image]”

The woman in the picture had “(Heart) Xiaoqian” written on her upper thigh with an oil-based pen.

Mingqian: “…This is too fake. How could anyone actually write something like that?”

‘This whole thing must be Photoshopped,’ he thought.

Mingqian: “Doesn’t that just make you sound like a yandere (TL Note: A Japanese term for a character who is initially loving and gentle, but then becomes obsessed, overprotective, and violently deranged in pursuit of their love interest.)? Listen, how could a beautiful girl in real life be like that? It’s all just otaku fantasies.”

Mingqian: “Until I see a face, I’ll assume everyone is a middle-aged man!”

In reality, he had a subtle feeling that if a girl had such an excellent figure, her face wouldn’t be bad either.

But wasn’t it utterly foolish to cling to hope for such an illusory matter? He didn’t want to be hurt by emotions at all; if one were to discuss the strength of interpersonal relationships, solitude reigned supreme!

Yet, he knew better than anyone that this was merely an excuse to escape; it wasn’t that he didn’t want to make friends, but that no one wanted him.

Su Wanwan: “Why are you so stubborn? Is Xiaoqian an idiot? You are, aren’t you? I didn’t even mind writing on *that* spot…”

Mingqian: “More importantly, could we just log on already? Let’s duo queue to climb the ranks.”

It wasn’t as if he hadn’t been deceived before.

He recalled playing Valorant normally, only for the soft, cutesy healer who had been acting coquettish in the team chat one second to suddenly transform into a gruff, burly man the next.

It seemed their voice changer had malfunctioned.

And still, in that sickeningly sweet voice, called him “Gege.”

Mingqian even exclaimed, “Mama!” in shock!

The past was too painful to recall under the bright moonlight.

Su Wanwan: “Angry! Xiaoqian actually doesn’t believe me! Just you wait!”

Mingqian: “Are you going to play or not?”

Su Wanwan: “Hey! Wait for me!”