I glance at my phone, tapping the screen. It's getting pretty late, huh? "Guys, let's call it quits—no more 'just one more'." Silence. No replies. Frowning, I sit up from my slouched position, eyes darting to the network connection. It's fine. The individual player icons are still glowing green, indicating a live connection. Weird. I shrug, sinking back into my chair.
Reaching for my mouse, I decide to message Max. He can't be asleep already—I refuse to believe that. But before I can even type a single word, my vision blurs, and then—nothing. Darkness swallows me whole.
A sharp, earthy smell hits my nose, dragging me back to consciousness. Blinding light floods my senses, making me groan. What's with all the light? I slowly sit up, wiping away the grass stuck to my face and grimacing at the damp spot where I drooled.
What the hell? My mind races as I try to piece things together. Last night… I was gaming on Discord with the boys. Did I fall asleep?
My eyes finally adjust to the overwhelming brightness, and I take in my surroundings. I'm in the middle of a vast, open field. Vibrant green grass stretches endlessly under a sky so blue it almost feels artificial. The summer air carries the sweet scent of fresh grass, and for a moment, my breath catches in my throat.
Then I relax, chuckling softly to myself. A dream. This has to be a lucid dream. It's too perfect, too vivid to be real. Testing my theory, I get up and start walking aimlessly, my steps crunching lightly against the soft ground.
A few steps later, the world drops away beneath me. I freeze, staring at an unending expanse of azure water stretching to the horizon. The ledge beneath my feet is precariously narrow, and the sound of gentle waves below reaches my ears, mingling with the briny tang of the ocean air. An interesting dream, for sure. Would I wake up if I jumped?
Before I can act on the thought, a voice cuts through the stillness. "Are you suicidal, or do you just feel like swimming?"
The words jar me, and I spin around to see the source. A man in his early twenties sits atop a nearby boulder, his bright blue eyes studying me with curiosity. He's dressed simply—brown pants, a leather belt, an off-white tunic and basic leather boots. His dirt-brown hair looks windswept, as though he's been here for a while.
"Do I know you?" I ask, my tone dripping with skepticism.
"I don't think so," he replies casually, though his gaze lingers, leaving me more confused. Is this just a random character my subconscious concocted? This is getting… odd. Time to wake up.
Turning back toward the ledge, I glance down at the deep, endless blue below. The thought of leaping stirs a mix of fear and anticipation.
"Whoa, what the hell are you doing?" the man yells.
"Trying to wake up, duh," I snap, irritated by the interruption.
Just as I lean forward, ready to take the plunge, something slams into me from the side. The impact knocks me to the ground, pain radiating through my shoulder. Pain? This vivid? In a dream? That shouldn't be possible.
The man scrambles to his feet, brushing himself off, and looks out at the ocean with exasperation. "Is this not a dream?" I murmur aloud, disbelief creeping into my voice.
"Nooo, you dumbass! Stop trying to kill yourself!" He offers me a hand, and I take it, standing shakily.
"Who are you?" I ask, finally entertaining the idea that he might be real.
"The name's Max Ashford. Who are you?" His words are accompanied by a short smile, but the casual tone makes my brain short-circuit.
Max? Can't be.
"It's me—Adam" The words come out slowly as realization washes over me.
His eyes widen, and he stares at me as if seeing a ghost. "Adam Zelwick? Is that really you?"
I give him a lopsided smile. "Of course it's me. Can't you recognize me?"
Max laughs, shaking his head. "Hell no. Your body's completely different. Have you looked in a mirror lately?"
Annoyance flares, and I retort, "Well, have you?"
The laughter dies on his lips as his hands fly to his face, feeling his features and hair with growing hesitation. "Doesn't feel different to me," he mutters, worry lacing his tone.
I press on. "Forget that. Do you know what happened or where we are?"
He sighs, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "No idea. I've been awake for about an hour, wandering around before you appeared. All I've found is this cliff and what looks like the edge of a forest in the opposite direction."
I try to focus, running through possible explanations. Teleported? Drugged? Stuck in some elaborate simulation? None of it makes sense. Max's voice breaks through my thoughts.
"You think we've been teleported to another world? Like in an anime or something?" His doubtful tone matches my own disbelief.
"Or maybe…" I hesitate. "Maybe we're dead. Could this be the afterlife?"
Max shakes his head violently. "No way. I'm not buying that."
Before I can respond, a blue box materializes in front of me, glowing faintly and hovering at eye level.
I stagger back, nearly losing my footing. What the hell is this?
No matter where I look, the box stays fixed in my vision, as if projected straight into my brain. Sighing in resignation, I read the words etched into it.
Bodies adjusted to a new plane of existence…
Analyzing prior existence…
Awarding a skill to compensate for lost progress…
As soon as I finish reading, the box vanishes. I blink in confusion, the surreal experience leaving my head spinning.
"Did you see that?" I start to ask Max, but another window pops up before I can finish. This one is more intricate, with multiple shaded rectangles containing white text. The title at the top reads:
Skill Selection:
I squint, reading through the options:
FireballWater WhipWind BladeEarth WallDashStone SkinHeightened AwarenessBasic Weapon HandlingBasic HealBlood RushHawk Eye
Fascinating. These all sound like your typical RPG abilities. I can guess what most of them do, but some are a mystery.
"What the hell? They didn't give us any descriptions?" Max mutters, his irritation evident.
So, he sees it too. Interesting.
"Yeah, but I think you can figure out most of them," I reply, still scanning the list of skills.
Max grunts and turns his focus back to the window. I stand there, trying to recall every game I've ever played, searching for inspiration to make the best possible decision. Suddenly, Max's voice cuts through my thoughts.
"Fireball it is!" he announces loudly, with the smug satisfaction of someone who thinks they've solved a puzzle.
I crease my eyes at him, catching his grin from the edge of my vision. "Did you think it through?" I ask, incredulous.
"Hmph," he scoffs. "There are really only two good options: Basic Heal and Fireball."
I raise an eyebrow, curious at how confident he sounds. "Care to elaborate?"
He adopts a lecturing tone. "Fire's good for cooking, warmth, light, and burning things. And healing… well, it's healing—it's always useful."
I want to argue, but what he says actually makes a surprising amount of sense. Still, something about the list keeps pulling my attention. Scanning it again, my gaze lands on a specific skill: Blood Rush.
For some reason, I feel drawn to it, almost compelled. It's not logical—out of all the options, this one is the most cryptic. But I... want it.
As if in a trance, my hand moves toward Blood Rush. A new, smaller panel appears with two options:
Confirm selection
YesNo
Blood is powerful. It sustains life. What better weapon than the one we all carry within us?
My thoughts solidify, and I press Yes without hesitation. The window fades from view, leaving me staring at nothing.
A beat passes. Then another. I remain still, expecting something dramatic to happen—but nothing does.
"Well, that was anticlimactic," Max remarks, just as searing pain explodes through my body.
The world tilts as my legs give out, and I crash to the ground, writhing. The pain is unlike anything I've ever felt—sharp, unrelenting, and all-consuming. It feels like centuries pass before it finally subsides, leaving me gasping for air.
I sit up shakily, my vision spinning. "What the hell was that?" I manage, looking around for Max.
He's still convulsing on the ground, his face contorted in agony. A few seconds later, his spasms stop, and he groans, slowly opening his eyes.
"What just happened to us?" I mutter, rising unsteadily to my feet. I offer Max a hand, and he grips it tightly as I help him up.
"That was... something," he says, his voice shaky.
Before I can reply, new windows appear in my vision, scattered like fragments of glass. Focusing on one labeled Info, the others shrink and fade into the background, leaving a single screen centered before me.
Species: Human
Age: 24
Level: 1 (0/100)
Health: 70/70
Mana: 50/50
Stamina: 70/70
Fascinating. It's exactly what I'd expect from a video game—except it's embedded in my mind. I close my eyes, but the screen remains as clear as ever. Not physical, then. Cool.
Deciding to explore the rest, I focus on another panel: Stats.
Strength: 7
Dexterity: 8
Speed: 6
Endurance: 7
Vitality: 7
Intelligence: 5
Wisdom: 5
Charisma: 4
Skill Points: 0
My eyes widen. That's a lot of stats to keep track of. Are these averages for humans or specific to us?
Shaking my head, I move to the Class panel.
Class: None
Simple enough. Next, Titles.
World Walker | Epic
(+4 to all stats)
(Spatial Pocket Skill)
(Universal Language Comprehension Skill)
"Huh... how did we get that?" I murmur, scratching my head. Reading it again, a theory forms. Maybe being teleported here counts as "walking worlds." Wait—worlds, plural? Does that mean there are more than just this one?
I glance at the clear blue sky, my thoughts swirling. Something to worry about later. For now, Skills.
Blood Rush | Lv1 | Common
(Increases rate of blood flow, empowering the body)
Universal Language Comprehension | Lv1 | Rare
(Able to understand and speak all common languages)
Spatial Pocket | Lv1 | Rare
(Area detached from reality; can store non-living items)
I frown. Blood Rush is only common? It sounds way cooler than that.
That's everything. But how do I close these? As I think about it, the panels shrink and disappear. Panic surges—then relief as I mentally call up Info again, and it reappears.
So, they're controlled by thought. Neat.
Closing the window again, I notice three small bars in the bottom left of my vision, each labeled:
Level: 1 (0/100)
Health: 70/70
Mana: 50/50
Stamina: 70/70
A grin spreads across my face. Convenient—no need to open menus for the basics.
Turning to Max, I ask, "Did you get those system panels too?"
He's staring into the distance, unblinking.
"Max?"
He jolts, meeting my gaze. "Yeah, sorry. I was trying to figure out what the stats mean."
"Any luck?"
He scowls. "Nope. Not without any stat points to play with."
He's got a point. For now, the only thing we know for sure is that the World Walker title gave us a hefty +4 to everything.
Sighing, I let my eyes wander back to our surroundings, the reality of our situation sinking in.
"Max," I say, my voice low, "what do you think happened to our real bodies? Back on Earth?"
He freezes, his expression grim. "Dude… I think we either vanished or died."
The weight of his words crushes me. The thought of our families finding our empty rooms—or worse, our lifeless bodies—fills me with a mix of dread and rage.
"There's got to be a way back," I snap, my voice rising. "Or at least a way to send a message."
Max puts a steadying hand on my shoulder. "Calm down. We can't do anything about that right now." He gestures toward the forest. "Let's focus on surviving. Because unless you plan to drink saltwater, we're in trouble."
He's right. I force myself to breathe and nod. "Yeah. Survival first."
Max gives a somber smile. "Let's find some fresh water before dehydration kills us."
"So, our only solution is to head into that supposed forest?" I ask, staring at the dark treeline in the distance, opposite the ledge we've been standing on.
"I don't see any other options," Max replies, certainty lacing his voice.
A forest in a world full of magic and who-knows-what. What could possibly go wrong? The thought churns in my head, half sarcastic, half genuine.
"Wait, before we dive in, let's at least test out our skills. I don't want to get ambushed by creatures without knowing how to defend myself," I say, pulling up my skills menu.
Max's face splits into a wide grin as he steps away. Looks like he's eager to test out his fireball.
I scroll through my skills and settle on testing Blood Rush. Might as well see what this buff can do. Dropping into a battle-ready stance, I focus on the skill's description and tense my muscles. "Here goes nothing," I mutter under my breath, then say the words aloud, "Blood Rush."
At first, nothing happens. Seconds tick by, and frustration starts bubbling up inside me. Typical. Why does nothing ever go my way? Just as that thought flickers in my mind, something shifts. The world sharpens—brighter, clearer—like I've put on glasses tinted with a faint red hue. My pulse quickens, the beat of my heart roaring in my ears. Energy surges through my veins, my muscles taut and primed. A small, rectangular window materializes in front of me.
Skill Activated: Blood Rush
Strength +10%
Agility +10%
Dexterity +10%
Duration: 10 seconds
Wow. This system really is game-like. Even the notifications feel pulled straight from an MMORPG.
I'm marveling at the sensation when I catch a flicker of orange light out of the corner of my eye. Turning, I see Max, a manic look on his face as a golf-ball-sized fireball pulsates in his palm. I walk closer, holding my hand out toward the shimmering orb of flame. It radiates heat—just as fiery as it looks.
"Can you control it?" I ask, curiosity plain in my voice.
He doesn't answer, too absorbed in staring at the fireball. "Earth to Max? You there?" I joke, chuckling when I realize that phrase doesn't apply anymore. What's this world even called, anyway? Great—another unanswered question for the pile.
Max finally snaps out of his trance, looking at me just as the fireball sputters out. He sighs, inspecting his hand. "I was concentrating, man. This isn't easy," he mutters, flexing his fingers. Then, as if remembering my question, he shakes his head. "No, I can't control it yet. What about you?"
Before I can respond, the rush of energy coursing through my body fades, leaving me back at baseline. "It's weird to activate, but yeah, it works. Just a simple buff to stats," I explain.
Max tilts his head, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "A buff, huh? Does it use mana or stamina?"
The question makes me wince. Why didn't I check that? Focusing on the vitals displayed at the bottom-left of my vision, I notice my stamina has dropped from seventy to fifty. "It uses stamina," I say, sighing.
Max notices my expression. "What's wrong?" he asks.
"How fast do you think these resources regenerate?" I ask, more to myself than him.
Max studies his menus. "Just got a single point of mana back. Pretty slow—maybe one per minute? And that fireball cost me ten mana." He raises his hands in exasperation. "That's not great."
This is bad. It sounds like we'll have to be strategic with every bit of mana we use. "Let's wait for it to regenerate before heading into the forest. We don't want to waste daylight, but we also can't go in empty," I suggest.
Max nods, tilting his head back to glance at the sun. As he does, I turn around, scanning the area one last time. Nothing useful catches my eye, so I start walking toward the trees, Max's footsteps close behind me.
We've been walking for what feels like an hour, heading in a straight line. Nothing but trees in every direction.
"I didn't think this forest would be so massive," Max grumbles, his head drooping.
Before I can respond, the trees ahead thin out. Relief washes over me as we push through the sparse foliage. Finally, we emerge into a clearing. I glance upward, catching the open sky above. But the moment of hope dies quickly—trees still surround the clearing in every direction.
"Well," I sigh, "we've found a clearing, not an exit."
Max steps into the open space, his expression brightening for a second before souring again. "Might as well set up camp here unless you're keen on sleeping in a tree," I say.
"Hard pass," Max replies, shaking his head vehemently.
I shrug and head back toward the denser part of the woods. "What are you doing?" Max calls after me.
"Gathering sticks," I shout over my shoulder. "We'll need something to help navigate this dense forest."
Satisfied with my explanation, he leaves me to it. Kneeling down, I collect a decent pile of sticks and focus on another skill. "Spatial Pocket," I murmur. Cold energy courses through my hand, and the bundle of sticks disappears in a swirling vortex.
Skill Activated: Spatial Pocket
Bundle of sticks stored
Huh. That was a lot easier than Blood Rush. I check my vitals again. My brows shoot up at the sight of my mana—now at sixty. No way. That one use cost me ten mana? So much for the dream of never carrying anything again.
Sighing, I picture the bundle of sticks in an imaginary safe. "Spatial Pocket," I repeat. This time, a small swirl materializes, depositing half the sticks on the ground. At least it's simple to retrieve things. My mana dips to fifty, and I pick up the bundle, trudging back to the clearing.
Emerging from the bushes, I stop short. Max kneels next to a circle of stones with wood stacked neatly inside. He murmurs something, and a small ball of fire appears in his palm, lighting the logs ablaze.
Magic is... something else. Watching fire conjured from thin air never gets old. A pang of jealousy rises as I think about my stat-boosting skill in comparison. Nothing to be done about it now.
"I'm going to look for food," I call over my shoulder.
"Alright! I'll practice fireball for a bit," Max shouts back as I head into the forest.
Wandering around, I make sure to shove sticks into the ground at regular intervals, a crude breadcrumb trail. I've always been terrible with directions, but this simple solution works—at least, I hope it does. Feeling smug about my ingenious strategy, I press on, determined not to return empty-handed.
After some time, I stumble across a new patch of trees, their bark a peculiar white with gray swirling patterns. Birch trees? Maybe. The thought stirs another question: is this world's ecological system even remotely similar to Earth's? My mind spirals as I try to imagine how magic might affect plant life, soil, or even weather patterns. It's like trying to solve a puzzle with half the pieces missing. Frustrated and woefully underqualified for this kind of theorizing, I shake my head and continue walking.
Just a few steps further, my eyes widen, and an involuntary grin spreads across my face. Finally! Hanging before me are clusters of yellow, hand-sized, spherical fruits. The trees producing them look similar to the birch I just passed but with bark patterns of brown swirls instead of gray.
Unable to contain my excitement, I dart to the nearest branch and pluck one of the fruits. When nothing odd happens, I bite into it, ignoring any second thoughts about whether it's safe. Sweet, tangy juice fills my mouth—like apples but with a vinegary kick. It's odd but refreshing. I devour the fruit in seconds, spitting out the seeds as I reach for another. Then another. By the fourth, my hunger and thirst finally abate, leaving me satisfied for the first time since arriving in this strange world.
Determined not to waste this bounty, I start gathering every fruit within reach, piling them at the base of the tree. When the pile grows to about a meter wide, I press my hand onto it and murmur, "Spatial Pocket." One by one, the fruits vanish into the swirling void created by the skill.
But some remain.
I frown, annoyed. Is there a limit per activation? I glance at my mana bar, now at 40, and try casting the skill again, but nothing changes. Of course, it's a capacity issue. With a resigned sigh, I grab the leftover fruits and eat as many as I can. When I'm done, I let out a loud burp and slump against the nearest tree trunk, staring into the dense canopy above.
This is all real, isn't it?
I rest my hands behind my head and let my thoughts drift. Part of me still clings to the hope that this is just a dream—albeit the most vivid one I've ever had. The shafts of sunlight filtering through the leaves slowly dim, and I realize I can't afford to linger any longer. Being alone out here with limited visibility doesn't strike me as the best idea.
Heaving myself to my feet, I locate the nearest stick in my trail and start the trek back to camp.
Breaking through the bushes, I spot Max sprawled on the ground, one arm draped across his eyes.
"You good?" I ask, curious about what he's been up to.
"Out of mana and mentally drained," he mutters without moving.
I make a mental note to practice my skills before sundown. With a smirk, I walk over and hold my hand above him. "Spatial Pocket." Half the fruits I gathered materialize, tumbling down onto his chest.
"What the—" he grumbles, sitting up in surprise. His annoyance vanishes the moment he notices the fruits. Eyes wide, he grabs one and immediately begins scarfing it down.
"You're welcome," I say, chuckling as I turn my attention to setting up for the night. No way am I sleeping on bare ground.
There's plenty of underbrush around, so I start collecting large leaves, piling them near the fire pit to dry.
As night falls, the campfire becomes our sole source of light, flickering shadows dancing across the trees. I arrange the last few leaves into a rough rectangle—my makeshift bed. The temperature feels comfortable, probably around twenty-five degrees, so I skip trying to fashion a blanket.
Max volunteers to take the first watch, sitting by the fire and practicing his fireball skill. I stretch out on the leaf bed, surprised by how soft it feels.
The moment my head touches the leaves, exhaustion crashes over me like a tidal wave. My thoughts blur, and before I can dwell on anything further, the world fades into darkness.