The world felt heavy, like it was pushing down on him one last time before letting him go.
He lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling fan as it spun lazily overhead. His room was dim, lit only by the soft glow of his computer screen in the corner. It still displayed the paused credits of Cyberpunk: Edgerunners, the haunting melody of its final episode stuck in his head. He hadn't cried. He rarely did, even when something hit him hard. But that show had left a mark, something deeper than sadness—a reminder of how quickly everything could fall apart.
Not that he needed the reminder. His life was already proof of it.
The faint scent of ramen lingered in the air, mixing with the metallic tang from the laptop he'd cracked open earlier. Fixing it had been a distraction, a way to keep his hands busy while his mind drifted. He'd always been good with tech, tinkering with broken gadgets to give them a second life. It felt right somehow, putting pieces back together when everything else was so out of control.
But even that wasn't enough anymore.
He glanced at his hands, pale and steady, fingers twitching slightly as if they still wanted to be working. Is this it? he wondered. Eighteen years old, and he already felt like he was running on empty. He had no big dreams, no grand plans. Just an endless routine of fixing things and losing himself in stories that weren't his own.
The fan wobbled slightly, its rhythm uneven. He focused on it, letting the sound drown out the silence. He hated silence. It always brought his thoughts back to the same question: What am I even doing here?
He closed his eyes, the ache in his chest deepening. Maybe… maybe if I just disappeared, it wouldn't matter.
And then, as if answering his unspoken wish, the world disappeared first.
---
When he opened his eyes, the ceiling fan was gone.
The bed was gone, too, replaced by cold, hard metal pressing against his bare skin. His breath hitched as a wave of disorientation swept over him. The air was sharp and sterile, carrying a faint hum that didn't belong to any place he'd ever known.
He sat up quickly, his head spinning as his surroundings came into focus. The first thing he noticed was the light—harsh and neon, casting long, jagged shadows across the metallic ground. Beyond that, towering buildings stretched into a crimson-tinted sky, their glass and steel facades reflecting endless streams of holographic advertisements.
He froze. This wasn't possible.
No. No, this isn't real. This can't be real.
He forced himself to his feet, ignoring the bite of cold air against his skin. His body felt… strange. Lighter, almost. He looked down and immediately wished he hadn't. He was completely naked.
What the hell?
He scanned the area, his eyes darting between piles of discarded metal and distant figures moving through the haze of city lights. Panic clawed at the edges of his mind. He needed to think, to figure out where he was and how he'd gotten here. But before he could process anything, a soft ding echoed in his mind.
---
[Welcome to the Super Gacha System!]
Congratulations, User! You've been selected to participate in the System's unique survival challenge. Your journey begins now.
---
A glowing blue screen materialized in front of him, its text sharp and impossibly clear.
He stared at it, his thoughts grinding to a halt. A system?
He'd seen enough anime and games to recognize the setup, but that didn't make it any less ridiculous. This was… absurd. Impossible. And yet, here it was, hanging in front of him like a bad joke.
Another notification appeared, overlaying the first.
---
Would you like to open your Beginner Gift Pack?
[Yes] [No]
---
He clenched his fists, his mind racing. Beginner Gift Pack? Is this some kind of sick game?
He thought back to the last moments in his room. Had he died? Had he been dragged into some twisted afterlife? The air felt too cold, too real, for this to be a dream. But if it wasn't a dream, then what was it?
He exhaled slowly, forcing himself to focus. Panic wouldn't help. He'd learned that a long time ago, back when life had been throwing punches harder than this.
"Alright," he muttered under his breath, his voice low and steady. "Let's see what you've got."
He reached out, tapping the glowing Yes button.
---
You have unlocked: Technopathy!
(Ability to communicate with, control, and manipulate technology.)
You have unlocked: Juryrigg (Mental)!
(Engineering prowess of Juryrigg unlocked. Congratulations on your enhanced ability to create and modify machinery.)
---
As the notifications faded, a sudden warmth surged through his chest. It wasn't painful, but it was disorienting, like a circuit being plugged in for the first time. He staggered slightly, catching himself on a nearby railing.
And then, he felt it.
The hum of machinery wasn't just background noise anymore—it was alive. He could sense it, a constant presence all around him. It wasn't just sound; it was information, raw and unfiltered, flowing into his mind.
What… is this?
He turned his head toward a small drone lying motionless on the ground a few feet to
The connection snapped into place instantly.
A flood of data surged into his mind, detailing every inch of the drone's construction. He knew its schematics, its broken parts, even its operating system. And before he could question how, his hands were moving, guided by an almost mechanical precision.
He worked quickly, stripping a nearby cable for spare parts and using a shard of metal to replace the damaged rotor. His fingers moved faster than they ever had before, assembling pieces with the ease of someone who had done it a thousand times.
When he finished, the drone whirred to life, its rotors spinning experimentally before it hovered into the air.
He stared at it, his chest tight with a mix of disbelief and exhilaration.
"I fixed it," he whispered, though the words felt hollow. This was more than fixing. This was something else entirely.
Before he could process the implications, the sound of footsteps reached his ears.
---
He turned sharply, his gaze locking onto a group of figures approaching through the shadows. They were augmented, their cybernetic limbs glinting in the neon light. The leader, a hulking man with glowing red eyes, stopped a few feet away and stared at him.
"You're a long way from home, kid," the man said, his voice low and mechanical.
He didn't respond. His mind was already calculating, analyzing the situation. They didn't look friendly. If he ran, they'd catch him. If he fought, he'd lose.
But he wasn't powerless.
The drone at his side hummed softly, responding to his unspoken command. Its small frame vibrated with potential energy, ready to act.
He straightened his posture, his expression calm but cold. If this was his new world, he'd survive it. One way or another.