Maverick let out a frustrated groan as his alarm clock blared through the quiet apartment. Pale morning light filtered through the blinds, highlighting the mess in his room. His hand shot out to silence the noise, and for a moment, he considered staying in bed. But bills didn't pay themselves, and unfortunately, neither did dreams.

"Another glorious day in paradise," he muttered, dragging himself upright.

He dragged himself into the kitchen, greeted by a sad-looking cereal box and a fridge that sounded like it was on its last legs. There wasn't much to see in the fridge—a sad bag of spinach, a lonely ketchup bottle, and milk that was probably bad. He poured the milk over his cereal and sat at the tiny table that wobbled every time he moved.

Every scrape of his spoon against the bowl was the only noise breaking the silence. His phone vibrated, the screen lighting up with a notification from his favorite online novel app.

"Another update? Fantastic," Maverick said, rolling his eyes as he tapped on the app. He skimmed through the list of updates, settling on a story titled Rise of the Heroic King. The synopsis blared promises of epic battles and world-shaking quests, the kind of high-stakes adventure Maverick had always dreamed of.

"Strength boosts, magic powers, a quest to save the world…" he mumbled, scrolling through the latest chapter. "Instead, I'm stuck at level zero with no chance of a class upgrade."

He chuckled to himself, though the sound was hollow. His mornings had become predictable routines, and predictability had a way of draining the life out of him.

The bus stop was already crowded when Maverick arrived, a mix of weary commuters, tired faces, kids lugging huge backpacks, and a guy juggling grocery bags. The chilly air was tinged with the smell of car fumes and greasy food from a truck parked nearby.

Maverick joined the queue, hands shoved into his jacket to keep warm. When the bus finally pulled up, he climbed aboard and slid into a seat near the back.

He settled in, plugging in his headphones and resuming his reading. He found the engine's quiet hum and the passengers' chatter oddly relaxing. The city blurred outside the window: dingy streets, graffiti everywhere, and just a hint of green popping up in random spots.

"Same route, same stops, same faces," he thought. His lips twitched into a smirk as a wild idea popped into his head. "What if a dragon flew overhead? Or the bus turned into a mech?" He snorted softly, shaking his head. "Anything would be better than this."

Across the aisle, an elderly woman fumbled with her bag, the contents spilling onto the floor. Papers fluttered down like awkward snowflakes. Without hesitation, Maverick leaned over, scooping them up.

"Thank you, dear," the woman said, her voice warm and kind.

"No problem," he replied, handing her the scattered pages. She smiled, and for a moment, the tension in his chest eased.

The bus continued its route, its engine rumbling as it navigated the congested streets. Maverick returned to his phone, though his thoughts wandered. That small act of kindness had made him feel a little lighter, but it also reminded him how insignificant most of his days felt.

The jarring sound of brakes snapped him out of his thoughts.

He looked up just as the bus jerked violently to one side. A scream erupted from the front as passengers were thrown from their seats. His body slammed against the window, his hands scrambling for something to hold onto.

Everything happened too fast. The screech of metal colliding rang out, followed by the sharp crack of breaking glass. The bus collided with something massive, throwing Maverick forward. His head struck the seat in front of him, and for a moment, stars danced in his vision.

When the world settled, he was slumped against the cold window. His ears rang, muting the panicked cries around him. Smoke hung heavy in the air, mixed with the sharp, iron scent of blood.

Maverick blinked, his vision blurry as he tried to take in the scene. The bus was a wreck. Seats were twisted at odd angles, the floor littered with debris and motionless bodies. He shifted slightly, a sharp pain radiating through his chest.

Blood trickled down his forehead, warm and sticky, but he barely noticed it. His breaths came shallow and uneven, each one a battle.

"So… this is it," he thought bitterly. His mind felt oddly detached, like he was watching the scene unfold from outside his body. "Not exactly the blaze of glory I imagined."

He tried to focus on something, anything, but his thoughts kept drifting. Memories flashed through his mind—long hours at work, quiet evenings alone, and fleeting moments of joy that always seemed to slip through his fingers.

"All I wanted was… something more," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "A little excitement. A reason to feel alive."

His vision started to fade, darkness creeping in and dulling the chaos around him. There was no fear in him. Just a deep, aching regret.

And then, just as everything began to fade, he heard it.

System initializing…

The voice was faint, distorted, yet it sent a shiver down his spine. The sound was metallic and strange, like it didn't quite belong in this world. Maverick's thoughts scrambled to make sense of the words, but his mind was too clouded.

A sharp ding echoed in his head, clear and precise. The noise sliced through the fog in his head, filling him with a strange sense of… anticipation.

His lips twitched into the faintest of smiles as his consciousness slipped away.