Greg didn’t know when but when he opened up the gym in the morning, The headset was waiting for him right by the front door inside of an ornately colored cardboard box. Taking it into his office, he opened it up to get a better look.
The headset was a sleek black, with a matte finish that gave it a subtle, understated elegance. Thin lines of iridescent circuitry ran along the sides like veins, glowing faintly as if the device was alive and waiting.
The padding looked unusually comfortable, stitched with what felt like mory foam wrapped in a cool-touch fabric. Even the headband had a chanical flex to it, adjusting with a soft click as he picked it up.
Inside the box there was no instruction manual. Just the headset and a small silver card nestled inside of the box. Greg picked up the card to realize it was a business card from Mythica Studios giving him a generic thank you for your purchase card.
Without a second thought, Greg tossed the card away and began to further inspect the headset. He couldn’t fathom how it was done but quickly gave up thinking about it too much.
Deciding to fully commit to the experience, Greg left a note on the front door of the Gym.
[Due to unforeseen circumstances, Titan Core Gym will not be open today. We apologize for any inconvenience.]
Taking a seat in his office with his headset in hand, he took a deep breath to steady himself before placing it on his head
The mont the headset settled into place, Greg felt a gentle pressure around his temples, like a soft embrace. It wasn’t uncomfortable. In fact like he had simply put on a warm hat that covered his head.
Closing his one good eye, he opened his mouth to say the two words he learned were necessary to begin:
"Ga Start"
The mont the words left his mouth, nothing happened at first.
His vision was already black from having closed his eye, but the air felt different. Heavy. Still. The silence stretched, pressing in on all sides.
A low hum began to rise, quiet and steady, like a distant engine coming to life. Light flared behind his closed eyelid. Not the soft glow of nus or loading screens, but sothing brighter. Harsher. Real.
Then the floor shifted beneath him.
Greg opened his eye.
He was no longer in his office. He stood barefoot in the center of a full-scale MMA cage. The mat beneath his feet was scuffed and stained from past fights, and a set of tal chain-link walls rose around him in every direction. Harsh white lights buzzed overhead, casting sharp shadows across the floor.
He looked around, confused and honestly more than a little annoyed. This was a fantasy ga right? So why was he standing in a place similar to the one where he lost his eye.
He blinked once. Then again. A strange sensation crept over him, unfamiliar and almost uncomfortable in its novelty.
There was no haze. No blind spot. No dull ache radiating from the right side of his face. Instinctively, Greg reached up and touched the area around his right eye, half-expecting the familiar scar tissue or the absence of sight.
But it was there. Clear and sharp.
His breath caught in his throat.
He turned his head slightly and focused on a corner of the cage, then quickly glanced toward the opposite side. His vision followed without delay. No blackness. No dead zone. Both eyes were working.
He could see.
A nervous laugh slipped from his mouth, short and disbelieving. For a mont, he just stood there, overwheld. Then his fingers curled into fists as a wave of adrenaline rolled through his body.
Before Greg could take a step, a voice echoed through the cage. Male. Old. Rough like gravel soaked in whiskey, with the slow cadence of soone who didn’t like to repeat himself.
"Well now," the voice muttered. "You actually made it in one piece."
Greg turned his head, scanning the empty arena. There were no speakers, no caras, no sign of where the voice ca from.
"That eye working again? Good. No excuses, then."
There was a pause but it was not dramatic, rely thoughtful, like the speaker was sizing him up from sowhere far beyond the cage.
"Been a long ti since soone walked in here without trembling. You don’t look like much, but then again, none of them did."
A chanical creak echoed from the far side of the cage. The second gate slid open, inch by inch.
"You’ve got questions. Don’t bother askin’. Not the kind you answer with words. You want to know why you’re here? Why your scars are gone and your body feels like it used to? That’s what this is for."
A low tallic groan rolled through the arena as the gate finished opening. From the shadows beyond it, heavy footsteps echoed, slow and deliberate, like whatever was coming had nothing to fear.
Then it stepped into view.
The creature was massive. Taller than Greg by at least a foot, with a body built like it had been sculpted from stone and iron. Bronze-toned skin stretched over thick cords of muscle, marked with deep scars and faint glimrs of sothing that looked almost like tal fused into flesh. Two heavy horns curved forward from its bull-like skull, and beneath them, its eyes glowed with a dull orange light. They locked onto Greg and did not waver.
A Minotaur. But not so snarling monster from fairy tales. This one was calm, patient, and grounded. It carried no weapon. It needed none.
Greg’s breath slowed as he studied the creature. Every instinct told him this fight would hurt, but a different feeling stirred in his chest. Sothing more familiar. Not fear. Not hesitation.
Excitent!
The voice returned, that sa old, rough growl, circling the edges of the cage.
"Figured we’d start simple. A test of grit. See what’s still in those bones of yours."
Greg rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck. The mat felt solid under his bare feet. The air was sharp and cold in his lungs. His fists clenched, knuckles creaking.
He had trained for years. Taught others how to move, how to take a hit, how to stand back up again. He had lived in the ring and bled on the floor. Even after he lost his eye, the fight never left him.
Now both eyes worked. His body felt whole. There was no hesitation left.
He didn’t look for a weapon. He didn’t scan for advantages. He stepped forward and raised his fists.
If this was a test, he would et it the only way he knew how.
Face to face. Hand to hand.
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