"Get out of the road, stupid!" a driver cursed as he sped past, the sound of honking drowning out the bustling noise of the city.
Seated at the side of the road was a young man with curly blonde hair. He stood about five feet tall, looking skinny and malnourished, dressed in dirty, shabby clothes that hung loosely on his frail frame.
Shevlye Robert stood up and began to walk away, while other pedestrians glanced over at him. Some continued with their business, while a few hurled insults in his direction.
"Those poor losers won't stop causing trouble everywhere they go," one of his so-called friends remarked nearby, smirking at Shevlye's predicament.
"I bet he's begging for something to eat to survive today." The comment sent the others into a fit of laughter, their voices ringing out like a cruel chorus.
Shevlye continued walking without responding to their ridicule, too focused on his own thoughts to let their taunts affect him. He had learned long ago that engaging with those who thrived on mockery only deepened the wounds they inflicted.
As he approached the modest apartment complex he called home, a familiar heaviness settled in his chest. He arrived at his door, unlocked it, and stepped inside.
The space he inhabited was small and nearly empty, with just a narrow bed, a wardrobe for his meager collection of clothes, and a rickety table with a chair. The walls were bare, reflecting the emptiness he often felt within.
Sinking onto the bed, Shevlye stared at the wall, his mind drifting back to the events of a few days earlier while he was still at the hospital.
---
Few Days Ago
Shevlye was at a local health center, seated beside an elderly man, about 80 years old, on the hospital bed. The old man looked pale and almost lifeless, with a bandage covering his head and another at the side of his chest. This frail figure was Shevlye's grandfather.
As he listened to the old man on his deathbed, tears streamed down his face, the weight of impending loss suffocating.
"Shevlye, I already told you this has nothing to do with you. I would—" He paused to cough, his frail body shaking with effort. "I wouldn't want you to start what I couldn't finish." The exhaustion in his voice was evident, just from uttering a few words.
Shevlye tried to stop him from speaking any further, but his grandfather continued, "You have your own destiny, Shevlye. This is my fate, and I've accepted it." Shevlye wept silently, unable to comprehend a world without his grandfather's presence. The old man had always been a source of strength, guiding him through life's challenges, and the thought of losing him felt like losing a part of himself.
"Shevlye, I have something for you, and I want you to take this very seriously. This is our family's legacy," he said, reaching into his trouser pocket to retrieve something.
He held up a small journal, its leather cover worn and creased. "Our ancestors believed that this journal holds unimaginable secrets but could never unlock its power."
Shevlye's heart raced as he took the journal from his grandfather's trembling hands. The moment felt heavy with significance. He could feel the weight of the legacy being passed down to him, a legacy that he didn't understand and was not ready to take responsibility for.
"Promise me," his grandfather continued, his voice growing weaker, "that you won't disregard it. This journal holds truths that could change your life if you can unlock its mysteries."
"I promise," Shevlye choked out, clutching the journal tightly to his chest. He felt a mixture of emotions—fear of the unknown, sadness for the loss, and a flicker of hope igniting within him.
His grandfather offered a faint smile, the corners of his lips twitching upward as he gasped for breath. "Remember, Shevlye, you have the strength within you. Don't let the world's darkness consume you. Fight for your light."
Shevlye nodded, tears blurring his vision. "I will, Grandpa. I will."
As the old man closed his eyes, the heart monitor's steady beep faded into a flatline, echoing in the sterile room. Shevlye felt a part of him shatter, the loss settling like a stone in his stomach. He sat in silence, the journal now resting in his lap, as reality began to sink in. His grandfather was gone.
---
Present Day
Shevlye found himself wandering aimlessly through the city, the journal clutched tightly in his hands. Each step felt heavy, his mind grappling with the weight of loss and the uncertainty of what lay ahead. He longed to return to his grandfather's side, to hear his soothing voice offering guidance.
Now, with the journal as his only connection to the past, he felt a sense of urgency to uncover its secrets. As he walked the streets, his surroundings blurred into a haze of noise and color. The honking cars and bustling pedestrians faded away, leaving him alone with his thoughts.
He arrived home, the familiar heaviness settling in again as he unlocked the door to his small apartment. Inside, he felt a profound sense of isolation. The walls seemed to close in on him, a reminder of his struggles and the daunting road ahead.
He dropped onto his bed, the journal resting on his chest as he stared at the ceiling. "What am I supposed to do now?" he whispered into the silence. "What's in this journal that could possibly help me?"
With a deep breath, he decided it was not yet time to delve into the journal his grandfather had entrusted him with. He threw the journal onto the table beside the window. As it landed, it slipped off and fell to the ground. He went to pick it up when he suddenly stumbled over a broken chair and fell forward, instinctively reaching out to break his fall. His hand grazed a sharp shard of glass that had somehow ended up on the floor.
"Damn it!" he exclaimed, wincing as a sharp pain shot through his palm. He pulled his hand back, watching in horror as a crimson drop fell from his finger, splattering onto the journal's surface.
As the blood made contact with the leather cover, a sudden jolt of energy surged through the room. The air crackled with intensity, and Shevlye's heart raced as the journal began to glow, pulsating with a strange light and levitating in the air.
He was too surprised to move back, but it was too late. The journal trembled violently, and in a blinding flash, it started to disintegrate before his eyes, crumbling into dust and shimmering particles.
As the last remnants of the journal dissolved, Shevlye felt a profound shift within himself. Before him, a translucent panel appeared, displaying strange symbols and numbers.
[Welcome, Host: Shevlye Robert]
He blinked a few times in disbelief as attributes began to materialize in front of him:
[Health Points: 100]
[Intelligence: 15]
[Strength: 5]
[Speed: 7]
[Stamina: 6]
[Perception: 4]