**"Life is nothing but a series of fleeting opportunities—unseen by many, wasted by most, and seized by the rare few. Yet, the cruelest trick life plays is making opportunity and suffering indistinguishable until one takes the risk of embracing both."**
Steven Notch had never been one of the rare few.
In fact, if he was honest with himself, Steven couldn't recall a single opportunity that had ever truly come his way. Not that he didn't deserve one—hell, he was smart, probably smarter than most of the so-called "professionals" sitting in their office chairs and enjoying their cushy, well-paid jobs. But none of that mattered. Not when you were the kind of person life seemed to go out of its way to avoid rewarding.
At thirty-four, Steven was exhausted in every conceivable way. Physically, mentally, emotionally. He'd worked in more dead-end jobs than he cared to remember, always barely scraping by, always on the edge of being swallowed whole by poverty. His father used to tell him that talent would get him places, but the old man never lived long enough to see his son shuffle between factory floors, warehouses, and night-shift security posts—places where talent went to die.
"Just one more shift," Steven muttered under his breath, wiping the sweat from his brow as he surveyed the decrepit warehouse around him. He could hear the hum of the conveyor belts in the distance and the faint clang of machinery as they processed scrap metal into whatever cheap product the company sold. This was his life—small, insignificant, and repetitive. Tonight was no different.
Or so it seemed.
Steven's job was dangerous, but it paid just a fraction more than the other low-wage work available, which was why he'd stuck with it. Handling unstable equipment, lifting heavy loads that strained his already aching back, and dodging the occasional workplace hazard had become routine. Nothing was unusual about it anymore. But no matter how many extra shifts he worked, no matter how many hours he burned through, his paycheck always seemed to evaporate before he could catch his breath. Rent, bills, and food took it all—leaving him as empty as his bank account.
Still, it wasn't the physical exhaustion that gnawed at Steven's soul. It was the knowledge that he was worth more than this. He could be more than a cog in this broken machine of a world. Yet here he was, a wasted life, invisible, unnoticed, and unimportant.
That was the thought that consumed him as he lugged another crate of materials across the dimly lit warehouse floor. He let out a grunt of exertion as the weight pulled at his arms and back, reminding him just how close he was to the limits of his body.
"Hey, Notch! Watch it!" one of his co-workers, a greasy-haired man named Carl, barked as he passed by. Carl wasn't the brightest bulb in the shed, but he was enough of an ass to make everyone else's shifts a living hell.
Steven gritted his teeth but said nothing. It wasn't worth the effort. Carl had seniority, and in this place, that meant you could get away with being an asshole to everyone beneath you. Steven didn't care to pick a fight, not tonight. Not when the weariness was deep in his bones.
He continued hauling crates, silently cursing his own existence. His fingers were numb, and his legs felt like lead. But at least in his mind, he could retreat into a place where none of this mattered. He'd often imagined a different life for himself, something grander, something worthy of his intelligence. Maybe he could have been an engineer or a scientist—someone who solved problems instead of just surviving them. But the universe had other plans.
**That's the thing about life,** Steven thought bitterly as he stacked another crate, **it doesn't care about your plans.**
It was the middle of the night now, the warehouse dead quiet except for the occasional creak of metal and the distant hum of machines. His shift would be over in a few hours. The thought of collapsing into his bed was the only thing keeping him moving.
Then it happened.
It was subtle at first. A low rumbling sound, almost imperceptible beneath the cacophony of industrial noise. Steven didn't notice it right away, not until it became more pronounced, a shuddering beneath his feet that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.
He paused, setting down the crate and wiping his sweaty palms on his shirt. Something was wrong. Very wrong.
The rumbling grew louder, more intense. He could feel the vibration now—through his boots, up his legs, a tremor that seemed to pulse with increasing urgency.
"Hey, Carl, you feel that?" Steven called out, his voice tight with unease. There was no answer. He glanced around the warehouse, but Carl was nowhere in sight. The place was almost deserted. The night shift had a skeleton crew, and most of the workers were probably on break, smoking out back or drinking cheap coffee in the break room.
Steven's heart began to race. This wasn't normal.
Suddenly, a loud metallic *snap* echoed through the warehouse, followed by the shriek of grinding gears and the groan of stressed metal. Steven's instincts kicked in, and he bolted for cover, diving behind a stack of crates just as something massive came crashing down from above.
The ceiling caved in with a deafening roar, sending debris and steel beams tumbling to the floor. The machinery on the conveyor line exploded in a shower of sparks, and the lights flickered, then went out completely, plunging the warehouse into darkness.
Steven's breath came in ragged gasps as he crouched behind the crates, heart pounding in his chest. He could feel the ground shaking beneath him, and the air was thick with dust and the acrid stench of burning metal. Panic surged through him, but he forced himself to stay still, to think. What the hell had just happened?
For a moment, there was only silence—an oppressive, suffocating silence broken only by the faint hiss of escaping steam and the distant groan of twisted metal.
Steven slowly lifted his head, peering over the crates to survey the destruction. The warehouse was a mess. The ceiling had partially collapsed, and the conveyor belts were twisted and mangled, their motors still sputtering in a futile attempt to operate. He could see flashes of firelight in the distance, the remnants of electrical sparks dancing in the gloom.
He needed to get out of here. Now.
But just as Steven was about to move, a second, more violent tremor shook the ground, knocking him off balance. He scrambled to his feet, but the floor beneath him cracked and buckled, sending him tumbling forward. He hit the ground hard, the impact driving the air from his lungs.
Pain flared in his chest and arms, but it was nothing compared to the terror that gripped him as the floor beneath him gave way. With a sickening lurch, the ground collapsed into a yawning chasm, and Steven plunged into the darkness below.
---
**Darkness. Cold. Silence.**
It took Steven a few seconds to realize that he was still alive. His head throbbed, and his body ached all over, but somehow, he had survived the fall. He opened his eyes, blinking against the darkness, but he couldn't see a thing. It was pitch black.
He groaned as he pushed himself into a sitting position, his hands feeling the cold, rough texture of stone beneath him. Where was he? The warehouse floor had collapsed, but this wasn't a simple basement or storage room. It felt… different. Ancient. Like something buried deep below the surface.
Steven's pulse quickened as he groped around, trying to find something—anything—that could explain where he was. His fingers brushed against something sharp, and he yanked his hand back instinctively. Was it debris? A piece of machinery?
He tried to stand, but his legs wobbled beneath him. The fall had taken more out of him than he'd realized. His head was spinning, his body bruised and battered.
Then, in the distance, he saw it.
A faint, glowing light.
It was small, barely noticeable at first, but it grew brighter with every passing second. Steven's breath caught in his throat as he stared at the eerie luminescence, unable to tear his gaze away. The light was coming from… something. Some kind of object lying on the ground just a few feet away.
With shaky legs, Steven stumbled toward it, his curiosity overpowering the pain and fear that gripped him. The light pulsed with a steady rhythm, like a heartbeat, casting strange shadows on the stone walls around him.
As he drew closer, he could make out the shape of the object—a small, metallic cube, about the size of a fist. It was covered in strange symbols, glowing with that same otherworldly light.
Steven hesitated for a moment, then reached out with trembling fingers and touched the cube.
The instant his hand made contact, the light flared, blinding him with its intensity. A surge of energy shot through his body, electrifying his nerves and sending him crashing to the ground in agony.
His vision blurred, and for a moment, he thought he was dying. His mind was flooded with incomprehensible images—fractured memories, strange landscapes, and impossible beings. He saw worlds unlike anything he had ever imagined, realms filled with magic, monsters, and war. He saw himself standing at the center of it all, wielding powers beyond comprehension.
And then, just as suddenly as it began, the pain stopped.
Steven lay on the ground, gasping for breath, his body trembling. His heart pounded in his chest, but the worldaround him had returned to its cold, silent stillness. The glowing cube remained where it was, but the light had dimmed, leaving only faint traces of its strange luminescence. Steven stared at it, heart still racing, as the searing pain that had overtaken him faded into a dull ache.
He felt… different.
His mind was racing, but not with fear. No, it was something else. Something sharper, clearer. He could feel the weight of knowledge pressing against the edges of his consciousness, waiting to be understood. There was a strange sense of awareness that hadn't been there before, as if he had woken up from a deep slumber to find the world was far more complex than he ever realized.
Instinctively, Steven glanced around, half-expecting something in the darkness to answer the questions swirling in his head. But the shadows were still. He was alone.
Then, with a soft *chime*, a faint glow appeared in front of him. At first, he thought it was another trick of the light, but then his eyes focused, and he realized it wasn't an external light at all—it was something in his vision. A translucent rectangle floated in the air before him, a shimmering display like something straight out of a video game.
---
**[SYSTEM ACTIVATION: Welcome, Steven Notch]**
---
Steven blinked.
A system interface? No. This had to be a hallucination, a side effect of whatever the hell just happened. But when he rubbed his eyes, the glowing text remained, hovering just within his field of vision.
"What the hell…?" he muttered, reaching out as if he could touch it.
As soon as his hand moved, the text shifted, transforming into a grid of icons and symbols, each one pulsing softly. They looked strangely familiar—like something he'd seen before, yet completely foreign in the context of his real, broken life.
---
**[STATUS]**
**Name:** Steven Notch
**Race:** Human
**Level:** 1
**Exp:** 0/100
**Abilities:** None
**Constitution:** STEVE (Passive)
**Skills:** None
**Inventory:** Empty
---
Steven stared at the screen, trying to make sense of the information. His name was listed there, clear as day, along with strange labels like "Level" and "Exp." Was this some kind of game?
No. He was awake. This was real.
"Constitution: STEVE?" he murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper. That particular word stood out to him—something about it felt eerily familiar. He'd spent countless hours as a kid playing video games, and one game, in particular, held a special place in his memory: *Minecraft*. The name "Steve" brought back visions of blocky landscapes, endless crafting, and strange creatures. It had been years since he thought about it, but seeing his name next to that word gave him an unsettling sense of déjà vu.
Before he could process further, another notification blinked into view.
---
**[TUTORIAL BEGIN]**
**"Welcome to the System Interface."**
**"You have been selected to wield a unique power across realities. This interface will guide your progression, granting you abilities, skills, and the opportunity to unlock infinite potential. To grow, gather Experience (Exp) through crafting, learning, and defeating enemies."**
**"The path to ascendancy starts at the bottom. Rise to claim your place among the rulers of realms."**
---
Steven's mouth went dry. This couldn't be happening. He had to be hallucinating. This was too surreal. The concept of "levels," "experience points," and powers—it sounded like something ripped straight from a fantasy game or sci-fi movie. But the more he looked at the screen, the more tangible it felt.
And then, as if to cement the reality of his situation, a sharp memory surged through his mind—the cube, the light, the unimaginable energy flooding his body. This wasn't a dream. Something had truly changed inside him.
He looked at his hands. They felt… stronger. Not just stronger, but capable. There was a strange sense of balance, a coordination that hadn't been there before. The ache in his muscles was gone, replaced with a steady, almost inhuman resilience.
It suddenly clicked: **Constitution: STEVE.**
Like the character from *Minecraft*, Steve had an absurd level of adaptability, able to carry entire inventories of materials and withstand punishment that would cripple an ordinary person. It wasn't exaggerated superhuman strength, but it was resilience—endurance. And the system… the system was something that seemed to tie everything together.
"Is this… real?" Steven muttered, half to himself.
He needed answers. But before he could delve into the system's mysteries further, a sound broke the silence—a low growl, echoing from the far side of the cavernous space.
Steven's blood ran cold.
Slowly, cautiously, he turned toward the sound. His heart pounded in his chest as his eyes strained to pierce the darkness.
Another growl, closer this time. Then, he saw them—two glowing, yellow eyes emerging from the shadows.
Whatever it was, it wasn't human.
The creature slinked forward, stepping into the dim light cast by the flickering remnants of the cube's glow. It was massive—its skin covered in thick, leathery scales, with a hulking, bestial frame that reminded him of a predatory animal, but far more monstrous. Its teeth gleamed like razors in the faint light, and its claws scraped the stone floor with every step.
Steven's heart raced, his mind scrambling for a solution. The system—there had to be something he could use! Frantically, he focused on the display, hoping for anything that could help.
---
**[Exp gained: None. Status: In Danger]**
---
No abilities, no weapons, nothing. His inventory was empty, and he had no skills. The realization hit him hard: he was defenseless. His system might have given him some passive boosts, but he wasn't a warrior—not yet. He was still just Steven Notch, the guy who worked dead-end jobs and barely made it through life.
But if he didn't do something, he wouldn't make it through the next five minutes.
The beast growled again, lowering its head as it prepared to strike.
"Crap, crap, crap…" Steven muttered, eyes darting around for anything—anything at all—that could give him a chance. The ground was littered with debris, but nothing useful. His body tensed, every muscle coiled in anticipation.
Then, a thought flashed through his mind: **crafting.** The system had mentioned crafting as a way to gain Exp. Maybe, just maybe…
His eyes landed on a rusted piece of metal lying near the wreckage. It wasn't much, but it was something. Desperation and adrenaline kicked in as Steven lunged for the metal shard, grabbing it just as the creature charged.
He spun around, swinging wildly. The shard scraped against the creature's scales, sending sparks flying. It wasn't enough to injure the beast, but it bought him a split second—a moment to think.
The system flickered in his vision.
---
**[New crafting attempt detected. Primitive weapon created: Rusted Shard. Status: Incomplete]**
---
The makeshift weapon felt pitiful in his hand, but it was all he had.
The beast lunged again, its jaws snapping inches from Steven's arm. He barely dodged, adrenaline pumping through his veins as he jabbed the shard forward. It hit flesh this time—deep enough to draw a low, rumbling growl from the creature. Blood dripped from its side, dark and viscous.
---
**[Exp gained: 5]**
---
A surge of warmth washed over him as the notification appeared. It wasn't much, but it was something. Steven's mind raced as he parried another attack. If he could survive this—if he could defeat this thing—he could get stronger.
The realization hit him hard: this wasn't just about survival anymore. This was an opportunity.
For the first time in his life, Steven Notch had a chance. He had a system. He had power.
And he wasn't going to waste it.
With renewed determination, Steven tightened his grip on the shard and faced the creature head-on.
"Let's see what you've got," he growled, eyes blazing with a ferocity he'd never felt before.
The beast lunged, and Steven moved like a predator awakened from deep hibernation. His instincts, sharpened by the strange new system pulsing in his mind, guided his actions. It wasn't strategy; it wasn't even skill—just pure survival instinct now fueled by a new layer of awareness. His body responded faster than his thoughts, like some primal part of him had taken over.
The creature's massive claws swiped at him, but Steven ducked just in time, the air above his head whistling from the force of the strike. He darted to the side, his feet light, the pain and exhaustion of minutes earlier forgotten in the heat of the moment. The world around him seemed sharper—colors brighter, sounds clearer. It was as if every nerve in his body had been fine-tuned for this one encounter.
His hand gripped the rusted shard with desperate determination. The beast came again, this time faster, angrier. It roared, the sound reverberating off the stone walls like a cannon blast. Steven knew that the creature was stronger than him, faster too. He had no armor, no proper weapon. But the flickering system in the corner of his vision told him one thing: he didn't need to win through brute strength. He needed to win *smart*.
As the creature lunged once more, Steven rolled to the left, avoiding the deadly snap of its jaws. His mind raced. It was like the fights he'd seen in video games, battles where the weaker opponent had to rely on tactics, outsmarting the stronger foe to land the decisive blow.
He couldn't overpower this thing—but he could outlast it.
---
**[Exp gained: 2. Current total: 7]**
---
The system continued to track his actions, flashing updates with every glancing blow, every survival instinct that kept him from death's jaws. He was learning fast. With each hit, each dodge, Steven felt something shift inside him. He was starting to understand this system wasn't just tracking his growth—it was adapting *with* him, like it was a part of him.
The beast let out another earth-shaking growl, more frustrated than before. Its thick, reptilian tail swung in a wide arc, aiming to catch Steven off guard. He barely had time to register the movement before the tail smashed into his side, sending him sprawling across the stone floor.
Pain erupted in his ribs, sharp and unforgiving. His vision blurred for a moment, but he forced himself to stay conscious, pushing up from the ground. Every breath was agony, but he couldn't stop now.
---
**[Warning: Injured. Constitution (STEVE) active—adapting to injury.]**
---
Another flash from the system. But this one felt different. As the words appeared in his vision, the pain in his ribs dulled slightly, becoming more manageable. Steven's brow furrowed in confusion. What was this?
The system was… compensating for his injury?
It didn't heal him completely, but it was clear: the passive "Constitution" he'd inherited was doing something. It was keeping him in the fight, forcing his body to adjust under extreme pressure. He wasn't invincible by any means, but it meant he could push a little harder than before.
"Okay," Steven gasped, steadying himself. His eyes locked on the beast as it circled him, its glowing yellow eyes filled with animalistic fury. "I get it now. You want me dead. But you know what? I'm not going down like this."
The beast charged again, its massive bulk shaking the ground with each thunderous step. But this time, Steven didn't wait for it to reach him. He ran toward the creature, ducking beneath its swinging claws, using his small stature to slip past its attacks. The shard in his hand was still useless against its thick hide, but there had to be a weakness. He just had to find it.
As the beast lunged forward, Steven noticed something—a faint line along its side, a scar or an old wound, just beneath the creature's ribs. That had to be it. A weak spot.
Without hesitation, Steven dashed forward, dodging the beast's snapping jaws by inches. He aimed the shard with precision, thrusting it directly into the vulnerable spot. The metal bit into flesh, and the beast let out an earsplitting roar of pain, stumbling back from the force of the blow.
---
**[Critical hit. Exp gained: 20.]**
---
Steven's eyes widened at the notification. *Twenty experience points?* That was more than the combined total he'd earned so far. The system rewarded him not just for surviving but for exploiting weaknesses—*learning*. The fight wasn't about raw power; it was about strategy.
"Got you," Steven muttered, adrenaline surging through his veins. But it wasn't over yet.
The beast staggered but didn't fall. It was injured now, but its fury was palpable. Blood dripped from the wound, dark and thick, but the creature's anger had only intensified. Its claws lashed out wildly, faster, more erratic. Steven barely managed to dodge, feeling the whoosh of air as a claw grazed his arm.
He needed to finish this, and fast.
The beast let out a final roar, launching itself at him with terrifying speed. But Steven was ready. His mind focused, every nerve alight with purpose. Time seemed to slow as the beast bore down on him, jaws wide.
Steven ducked low at the last moment, the beast's momentum carrying it forward. With a desperate lunge, he drove the shard into the creature's wound again, this time with all his strength. The jagged metal buried deep into flesh, tearing through muscle and sinew.
The beast's roar cut off abruptly, replaced by a deep, guttural wheeze. Its massive body convulsed, twitching violently before collapsing to the ground with a heavy *thud*.
Steven stood there, panting, the shard still clenched in his trembling hand. Blood dripped from his knuckles, some his, some the creature's. For a long moment, he just stood there, waiting for the adrenaline to subside, for the reality of what had just happened to sink in.
Then the system chimed again.
---
**[Enemy defeated. Exp gained: 50.]**
**[Level Up: Level 1 → Level 2.]**
**[Exp required for next level: 75.]**
---
Steven blinked, staring at the notification in disbelief. He had leveled up.
His first instinct was to laugh—an uncontrollable, hysterical laugh that bubbled up from deep inside him. This was real. The system was real. The power to level up, to grow stronger, it was all real.
He'd just killed a monstrous creature with nothing but a rusted piece of metal and his wits. The Steven Notch of yesterday would've never survived this. But today? Today was different.
A new screen flashed in front of him, this one different from the others.
---
**[Congratulations! You have unlocked your first ability.]**
**[Ability unlocked: Enchant.]**
**[Description: Imbue weapons or items with magical properties, enhancing their effectiveness. Cost: Exp.]**
---
Steven stared at the screen, his pulse quickening. **Enchant.** He knew that word—*Minecraft* used it for enhancing gear. The system had just handed him the power to do the same thing.
For the first time, a real, genuine smile spread across Steven's face. His mind raced with possibilities. This was it. This was the break he'd been waiting for all his life. Not in the world he was born in, but in this new reality—a world of monsters, magic, and power.
"I'm not done yet," he muttered to himself, his voice steely with determination.
With a flick of his wrist, the system interface shifted, displaying his newly earned ability. He tapped it, feeling a surge of energy course through his body as he activated it. The rusted shard in his hand glowed faintly, pulsing with a soft, magical light.
Steven's grin widened.
This was just the beginning.
He wasn't the same Steven Notch who had worked miserable jobs, who had died a meaningless death. That life was over.
In this new world, Steven would carve out a path of his own.
With his newfound power, his cunning mind, and the drive to survive, there was nothing that could stop him.
Ascendancy had begun.