Painful mediocrity. That was being generous in describing the life of the young man whose greatest accomplishment was holding a part-time job at a convenience store. 

"Blake Reave"--a name only a handful of people even knew; his immediate family, and the employer that wrote his checks. 

Even right now, instead of being productive, making any effort in improving his life, he simply sat on his rear, shoveling chips into his mouth while watching a fantasy show depicting a hero that had it all–power, looks, charisma, fame. 

"Why can't I have that? Even just an ounce of that kind of life?" Was the sort of thought that crossed his mind as he mindlessly watched, though it wasn't as if he made any effort to achieve it. 

To the deadbeat adolescent, the upper-limits of his life had already been dictated: born with mediocre looks, average intelligence, and parents with no wealth to their names, to Shane, he was at the peak of his life, no matter how low that may be. 

A sigh left his lips. 

'If I could try again, I bet I could do better…but, that's the kind of thing for dreamers,' he thought. 

As he sat there with thoughts of a life far from his own means, an odd smell greeted his nose: a putrid, thick scent of gas. It was strong; worryingly so. He sat up, turning his head towards the kitchen but a few strides away. 

"Did I leave it on–" He mumbled. 

BOOM. 

Fire; a whole lot of it, expanding so fast and viciously that there was no time for his body to react before it was swallowed in the hellfire of his malfunctioned appliance. 

A complete emptiness awaited him; there was no pain, nor any feeling, really—just a boundless nothingness. 

'Ah, crap. It doesn't help that my life was already embarrassing enough, but did I really just die to a freaking oven? I mean, at least let a lightning bolt smite me down or something,' the unflattering exit from his life lamented his mind. 

[Beginning assessment of reincarnation.] 

[Quality of life…Minimal. Desire for greatness…Exceptional. Calibrating…]

'What?' He thought, unable to verbalize in the void, though clearly hearing a monotone, feminine voice. 

In place of the nothingness he found himself floating in, a flow of amber lights flourished in his non-existent eyes.

[Blake Reave. Age: Twenty. Occupation: Minimum Wage Worker.] 

[Identity Established.] 

[Identity Replaced.] 

Spirals of symbols resembling lines of data being written into the universe itself were presented, displaying the robotic words spoken to him. 

'What the hell's going on? I'm dead right? Is this the afterlife? Is this a nightmare? C'mon!' The perplexed man thought. 

[Designation Found.] 

[Ability "Hypnosis" obtained.]

'Ability? Explain something—huh?!' The thoughts flooded out. 

Everything shifted as the vision before his eyes flashed, fading away into once again darkness. Nothing was seen, nor felt, all until— 

As if having been closed for an eternity, his eyelids peeled. 

'Wait, hold on…Are you for real?' He questioned in his head. 

Rather than the dreary scenery of his cramped, moldy apartment, he found himself surrounded by a sea of old trees. The feeling of fresh air against his skin was all too potent–no, it felt as though the wind brushed against his bare skin. 

As he looked down at his body, he found that it wasn't his imagination: there wasn't a single article of clothing on his body. 

"What the hell–!?" He remarked out loud in utter confusion, jumping to his feet. 

One moment, he recalled being blown to bits in his own home, and now here he was, letting it all hang out as the wind brushed against parts of his body that he didn't feel all too okay with. 

Though he had little clue as to what was going on, he grabbed a bundle of leaves and tied them together as best he could to make a makeshift covering for his privates. 

"Good enough…I suppose," he hesitantly mumbled. 

Moving along with careful steps to avoid broken twigs and mud, the boundaries of the forest were quickly found as a sight met his eyes: buildings grouped together with carriages coming and going. 

'Civilization! Hold on, horse-drawn carriages? I recall exploding, then a weird voice talking to me, now waking up in an unfamiliar voice, did I…' He questioned in his head. 

For a moment, he stood still as the realization came to him. The young man was intimately aware of fictional stories, and had consumed his fair share of media involving such situations like his own. 

"I've been transported," he said to himself, as if having to convince his own mind of the wild reality he was in. 

Discovering such a fantastical situation for himself, the first thought in his mind was obvious: he obviously should possess supernatural abilities. 

"Fireball!" 

Nothing. 

The tree he appointed as his test dummy was saved from being lit on fire. 

"Hyah!" 

He threw his knuckles against the bark of the tall-standing cedar—nothing. The only result was causing his fist to throb as his hand simply recoiled off of the sturdy hide of the tree. 

'Shit…Nothing? There has to be something I can do—either way, I'd like to see what that town is all about,' he decided. 

Saving his curiosity of what powers he may have for later, he marched towards the large town amidst the valley. There was a front entrance from what he could tell, as there was a guard in shoddy, leather armor standing with a sword sheathed at his side. 

Though it was only as he saw the odd look from the sword-having man in that split-second did he realize just how truly questionable he must've looked: an outsider approaching with nothing but leaves covering his special bits. 

'Crap. Crap—I'm totally going to be arrested for flashing! I'm not starting my new life in jail!' He thought. 

The suspicious guard eyed on him, "State your name, outsider. What are your intentions?" 

"Blake–my name is Blake. My intentions? I didn't really think about that one…" He answered. 

Of course, his half-assed answer didn't earn him any trust from the protector of the town's entrance, only bringing the guard's hand closer to his sheathed weapon. 

"If you think I'm letting you into Nubera while you're practically walking around nude, you're out of your mind!" The guard scolded him, his harsh words coming out with spit lacing their intensity. 

Blake responded, finding himself frustrated at the unfair beginning of his new life, "Hey! If it's such a big problem, then just give me some clothes, dammit!" 

[Hypnosis Successful.] 

'Wait, what–?' He thought as the monotone voice spoke inside of his mind. 

Before his eyes, the guard who looked one moment from popping a blood vessel in anger had softened his expression to a welcoming one, beginning to remove his pieces of armor one-by-one, "Sure thing!" 

"Huh?" 

It was utterly confusing as each article of clothing was carefully gifted to him by the once armored man. 

"Is that all you needed?" The guard asked chipperly, standing there in his underwear as though nothing was off about such a thing. 

"…Yeah, thanks," Blake hesitantly accepted. 

Though acquired through questionable means, he slid his newly found attire on, which fit surprisingly well. He ditched the pieces of steel, not wanting to be mistaken for a guard, adjusting the leather gloves and boots. 

"I'll just be heading in now," Blake said as he slowly walked past the peculiar, half-naked guard. 

"Sure thing!" The man allowed it. 

Through the front gates of the quaint town, he walked in, finding himself immediately greeted with a sight that engrossed him in the newfound world. 

The cobblestone-paved streets were occupied by pop-up shops, with merchants peddling fresh produce, some advertising silver weaponry, and others jewels. 

'I'll be damned…This really is a fantasy world,' he discerned. 

As he walked through the heart of the town, people of all varieties passed; commoners, nobles in lavish garments, those in equipment of leather or steel, carrying weapons with them—adventurers. Not all of them seemed strictly human, either; he noticed many with cat-like ears and tails that flicked. 

Fortunately, he blended in well enough with the outfit he procured through questionable means. 

'…"Hypnosis Successful", that's what I heard before that guy gave me his clothes. I mean, if I really did get sent to a world of fantasy, then it stands to reason I was given some sort of uber-powerful, unique ability, right? Right? I've got some testing to do,' he thought to himself. 

As he looked around for a target to test his theory on, his eyes laid on a fruit stand run by a particularly grating merchant. 

"Apules! Apules! Get your fresh apules here! Straight from the verdant islands of Yygramon!" The peddler of fruits repeated to the passing crowd. 

Approaching the stand, Blake observed the so-called "Apules" as round, red-skinned fruits that were remarkably similar to "Apples." 

"Interested, young man? For just one crown, you can get a dozen apules! The best in the region! Fresh and sweet!" The fruit merchant held one of the crimson snacks in front of the curious man's face. 

Blake inhaled before responding, giving a straightforward command, "I'll take one for free."

[Hypnosis successful.] 

A dazed look was imprinted on the mustached, middle-aged merchant's face before a smile returned, "Of course, young man!" 

As easy as that, the appetizing fruit was handed over without a single exchange of money. 

Only as he took a bite out of the juicy produce did he notice the prompt that appeared in his vision. 

[Five Experience Points Gained.] [10/30]

Of course, his mind immediately connected the text seen only by his eyes to terms related to gaming. 

'So, it's a "Hypnosis" ability with some sort of RPG system, then? This is my special, greater-than-magic ability? I could work with this,' He observed.