Xavier finished the last calibration, let the headset sink him into the full-dive layer, and the world snapped out from under him. The shift was smooth—too smooth. No jolt, no dizziness. His vision blurred for a breath and then cleared into a completely different reality.

He materialized in Starfall Arena's main lobby.

The place floated like a massive open platform suspended over the endless sky. Dozens of airships drifted far below, their engines leaving bright trails that curled upward like glowing ribbons. The floor was a polished metal surface reflecting neon from giant holographic billboards stacked around the edges—ads for weapon skins, clan banners, seasonal rankings, battle passes, half-stupid voice packs, everything screaming for attention.

Above all of it hovered the biggest display in the entire lobby:

A twenty-meter billboard with his face on it.

"SPECIAL EVENT: XAVIER'S Descent— 00:29:52 REMAINING."

The player crowd was already reacting. Random avatars stood in clusters, pointing up at the board, spamming emotes, firing confetti guns, jumping around as if the damn event was Christmas.

Xavier looked down at himself—default avatar. Plain combat suit, his exact face, basic boots, no flair. The game didn't allow custom model editing, only skins you bought or earned, so half the lobby looked just as bland as he did.

He ignored all that and opened the tutorial prompt. He didn't need thirty minutes of small talk or staring at the scenery. He needed to understand how the mechanics translated into full-dive.

[Experience the thrill of living in the great accession war era of 2100-2500 AD.]

He selected "Begin Training."

The world around him folded inward, the sky cracked open like someone peeling back a layer, and everything dropped into darkness.

A second later, he stood in the middle of a warzone.

Wind howled past his ears. Helicopters thundered overhead, sending down bursts of sand and smoke. He felt the vibration of distant explosions under his boots. Full-dive suits didn't hold back sensory feedback—everything shook with sharp, realistic weight.

He checked his hands—gloves, armor plating, a compact rifle locked to his grip with magnetic clamps. The HUD flickered into existence at the edge of his vision: ammo counter, minimap, mission objectives, a vertical bar tracking his armor integrity.

A voice shouted through the comms, sharp and commanding.

"Alpha-Three, move! Enemy armor is pushing through Sector Nine! Secure the damn street before they cut off the supply lines!"

Another voice, strained and panicked:

"Commander, we've got hostiles flanking the west corridor—two squads, maybe three!"

The world around him blurred into chaos. Troops sprinted past him, bullets carving lines through the air, beam rounds streaking across rooftops in threads of blue and red light. A drone exploded overhead and rained sparks across the alleyway.

Xavier lifted the rifle, checked the weight, aimed down sights, tested the recoil—heavy but smooth, responsive, almost too real.

Objective text flashed in the corner:

• Push forward with Alpha Squad

• Secure the barricade

• Neutralize enemy units (0/12)

He moved through the street with the rest of the squad. Grenades detonated in the distance, sending shockwaves across the ground. Dust and ash clung to the air. A trooper beside him shouted as he reloaded, "Cover me, cover me!"

Xavier stepped into position, firing short controlled bursts. The weapon responded like an actual firearm—kickback, heat spreading down the grip, the faint mechanical vibration of the chamber resetting after every shot.

Enemies rushed from behind wrecked vehicles—armored soldiers with glowing visors, speaking in some distorted dialect as they coordinated attacks:

"Suppressing fire—left flank!"

"Push them to the intersection!"

"Target Alpha-Three—priority kill!"

The HUD pinged new instructions: Hold position for 25 seconds.

A countdown appeared beneath it.

Xavier steadied his aim, shifting from one cover to the next. It reminded him of the time when he had launched an attack against the space hounds back at the village.

He could feel the difference between the simulation and real life—real battle had a weight games couldn't copy—but the pressure, the urgency, the sensory feedback… it came close enough to pump adrenaline through his veins.

Explosions shook the street, and a commander's voice cracked through the comms:

"Alpha-Three, good work. Push to the next marker. Air support incoming—keep your head low."

A fighter jet roared overhead, releasing a streak of energy rounds that tore through an entire line of enemy infantry. The shockwave hit Xavier hard enough to make him step back.

New text flashed:

• Reach the extraction point

• Avoid armored drones

• Survive (Time: 02:00)

Two minutes of chaos later—dives, shots, a sprint through collapsing debris, drones firing from above, squadmates shouting warnings—the tutorial finally ended.

The world froze.

The battlefield dissolved into shifting fragments of light.

And the lobby returned beneath his feet.

The countdown hit 00:12:19.

The event was close.

The lobby had changed while Xavier ran the tutorial. He didn't notice it at first, not until he saw the crowd density shift—avatars popping in everywhere, clusters forming near the event board, chat bubbles exploding like fireworks over everyone's heads. The server counter on the corner of his HUD kept climbing, most likely from people logging in just because they heard he'd gone live here.

His fans were pouring into the world like someone opened a floodgate.

They were just as confused and curious as he was. Messages filled the air around him:

"HOW THE HELL DID THEY MAKE AN EVENT THIS FAST???"

"BRO THEY HAD SIX HOURS—SIX—THIS IS NOT NORMAL DEV SPEED"

"ARE THEY EVEN HUMANS? WHAT IS THIS???"

"MAKKA RELEASE THE DEVS AND LET THEM MEET THEIR FAMILY AFTER THE EVENT HAS ENDED!"

"XAVIER YOU BETTER NOT DIE IN THE TUTORIAL—"

"WAIT WHAT IF IT'S A RAID???"

"WHAT IF WE FIGHT WITH HIM???"

Even random players who didn't watch him were asking the same thing. Everyone wanted to know how the devs had pulled off a special event for the biggest streamer in the world in basically no time.

And at the ten-minute mark, the sky above the lobby cracked open with a holographic ripple. A new interface unfolded across the entire area:

EVENT REGISTRATION NOW OPEN — "XAVIER: STARFALL PROTOCOL"

EVENT REGISTRATION NOW OPEN — "XAVIER: STARFALL PROTOCOL"

Players swarmed the panel immediately.

Only registered participants would be allowed inside when the countdown hit zero.

Xavier opened the event page.

A detailed list appeared in front of him.

The event ran for three full days.

Three modes.

Three different ways to interact with whatever half-built thing the devs managed to stitch together at breakneck speed.

He scrolled through the modes.

The first one was a galactic multi-server scenario—each major planet in the game had its own server, and in each one, his "NPC version" acted as a companion. He'd join squads during missions, follow players around in quests, give small tactical advice, fire back during ambushes, rush to revive teammates, even pull off special cinematic saves if certain triggers activated.

Players basically got to have "Xavier" as a temporary teammate.

Of course, it wasn't him at all. Just a coded mimic with his face, his voice lines, his stance, his expression. The devs had done what they could in six hours, which meant the NPC probably only had a handful of animations and a scripted personality roughly based on the public version of him.

Xavier didn't blame them.

Nobody could have built a real version of him in that time.

He was actually impressed they managed to create anything this fast.

The mode had simple goals:

Join one of the planetary servers, complete co-op missions with "Xavier NPC," collect points, unlock cosmetic rewards, and see if his AI copy could actually contribute without getting stuck behind a crate for ten minutes like most companion NPCs did.

The description mentioned special cutscenes too—things that played only if players reached certain milestones with the NPC over the next three days.

He could already see people losing their minds over that.

The other two modes were locked behind registration—something about a competitive survival cluster and a boss-type event that wasn't publicly revealed yet. Perhaps, it was a secret until the countdown ended.

But it didn't matter.

The chat was already exploding all around him:

"NPC XAVIER???"

"I'M TAKING HIM TO MARS SERVER—WE'RE GONNA SWEEP EVERYTHING—"

"BRO I SWEAR IF HE GETS STUCK ON A ROCK I'M REPORTING THE DEV TEAM—"

"CAN I HUG HIM IN-GAME—IS THERE AN EMOTE—SOMEONE CHECK—"

"I REGISTERED—DONE—DONE—DONE—LET ME IN—"

"XAVIER THEY MADE YOU AN NPC LMFAO—"

Xavier rubbed the back of his neck, watching the timer tick down.

He wasn't offended. But he wasn't flattered either.

This was work done under insane pressure, patching an event together for someone like him with barely any time. He respected that kind of grind. And he knew his fans would scream, cry, freak out, and love every second of it.

He tapped "PARTICIPATE."

His visor chimed softly.

"Participarion successful."

And immediately, Xavier got a notification from the game, or rather… the devs.

[You are the main character, the protagonist of the event. You are THE event. Good luck, Xavier.]