"All this money and not a single damn thing to make me feel alive."
Draven tossed his Ferrari keys onto the counter, where other branded keys were scattered.
He stripped down to his green boxer shorts before wearing a white bathrobe.
Turning to his side, he spotted his collection of championship belts on the wall.
His gaze shifted to his reflection in the massive glass window overlooking the city.
By the time Draven was 28, he had experienced it all.
Wealth, fame, women, alcohol, and every indulgence he thought would make him happy.
"Hmm… should I retire?"
But the thought of retirement was a pipe dream.
People pestered him endlessly whenever he brought it up. Too many depended on him or used him for their gain.
From his suite, he could see the city lights flickering in the distance. Something unusual caught his attention, and his eyes brightened.
"What's that?"
He spotted a light cutting through the dark clouds. It wasn't like any light he had ever seen—it was sharp, clear, and pulsating with an unnatural glow.
"Is there an event tonight?"
But as he focused, it became clear the light was heading straight for him. And it grow larger and larger with every passing second.
"F*ck!"
Heart racing, he scrambled to his feet, only to freeze in place as the ground beneath him began to hum.
His entire suite flickered with strange, glowing symbols.
A massive magical circle of light pulsed with arcane energy. And it spread across the floor and surrounded him.
The chanting of ancient voices filled the air as if the universe was calling his name.
Draven blinked.
"What the heck is this?"
He spun around, searching for an escape. The pull of the summoning circle grew stronger and dragged him toward its glowing center.
Draven bolted to the exit door, confused and desperate. His fingers outstretching for the handle—when suddenly,
BANG!
The door shook violently.
Something was on the other side, ramming into it.
"What the f*ck!" he shouted, backing away as the door splintered.
One more crash, and it burst off its hinges, smashing into the wall.
And there it was.
Truck-kun.
A full-sized truck revved its engine as if it had appeared out of nowhere in the hotel hallway.
Its headlights blazed like twin suns, and the grill gleamed menacingly.
Draven stood frozen, dumbfounded and watched in disbelief.
The truck's tires screeched against the carpet and roared toward him at full speed.
"How the hell is there a truck in here?!"
The arcane circle still glowed, its pull growing stronger.
A meteor was hurtling toward his window.
And now, this maniacal truck was about to flatten him.
"What the hell was happening?!"
Draven's eyes darted around the room, desperately searching for a way out.
And then, he saw it.
A door.
A strange, shimmering door that hadn't been there a moment ago.
It stood in the center of the room, glowing softly, like the universe's weirdest escape hatch.
"That'll do."
His heart pounded as he sprinted toward it. And without looking back, he threw himself through, eyes squeezed shut.
The truck's brakes screeched.
The arcane's circle hummed loudly.
And the deafening roar of the meteor crashed down.
Then everything went black.
…
…
Seconds passed, and nothing seemed to happen.
"Yes! I won!"
"You are really a cheater, Goodness!" an old woman's voice snapped.
'Huh?' Draven opened his eyes, quickly assessing the situation.
He was standing on a cloud, surrounded by a vast expanse of white.
In front of him stood an old woman and three old men who looked otherworldly.
They were handing orbs to an old man with long, tied-up hair as if it was the price for losing.
The three figures then vanished instantly, like ghosts.
"Did you just bet on me?!" Draven blurted out.
The old man's eyes widened in surprise, as though caught red-handed. "Nope."
'So, it's a yes,' Draven muttered. "Who are you?"
"You can call me Mr. Goodness."
Draven nodded slowly, still trying to process the bizarre situation.
"Okay, then. Am I dead already, 'Mr. Goodness'?"
He quickly glanced down at his body, relieved to see everything intact.
"So, what's my verdict—hell or heaven?"
A sneer tugged at his lips as he recalled all the reckless things he'd done in his life.
"Actually, never mind. I know the answer."
Mr. Goodness chuckled lightly, shaking his head.
"Nope, you're not dead. I'm sending you to another world. One where magic exists. And you will help the Verdant people from their persecutions."
Draven raised an eyebrow and smirked.
"What, you want me to play hero? Sorry, but I'm tired of being famous. Been there, done that."
Goodness remained calm.
"You've competed in every combat sport. Taekwondo, judo, kickboxing, Muay Thai, boxing—and stayed in mixed martial arts. You take all the championship belts and trophies."
He began to pace around Draven.
"So, tell me. What were you trying to achieve by doing all that? To become the strongest of all?"
Draven opened his mouth to retort. But he stopped short when Goodness answered his question.
"No," Mr. Goodness said firmly. "You weren't chasing to become strongest. You were searching for a worthy opponent. Someone stronger than you."
Draven's smirked.
Goodness stepped closer, his voice was low yet powerful.
"How about this? A world filled with beings stronger than you—monsters, beasts, warriors, mages, and more. Maybe even gods? As long as you stay with the Verdant people, you'll have endless chances to fight them."
Draven's eyes gleamed with excitement.
The spark he had been missing for years ignited once more.
"You got me there," he admitted, his grin widening.
Mr. Goodness clapped his hands.
"But your strength alone won't be enough. You'll die instantly in this world without magic, so I'll give you a hero class."
He smiled knowingly.
"I'll max out all your stats, skills, and levels for you. I'll even throw in a rare Rank S skill."
"Status!" he commanded, and the screen flickered to life.
A glowing black screen appeared in front of him, lines of white text scrolling rapidly.
Draven squinted at the screen. But the words were completely foreign, written in a language he couldn't understand.
"Let me handle this." Mr. Goodness leaned closer, squinting to read the text.
"Dra… ven… Whit… lock."
After typing in the name, he quickly pressed a button to start the process.
"There you go. Now I can create your clas—cla…"
Goodness's words faltered, stuttering and glitching like a broken record.
"Is something wrong?"
Draven glanced at the screen. He noticed it was blank now, not a single word or symbol remaining.
The old man quickly dismissed the screen, wiping sweat from his forehead.
"Everything's fine! It's just a minor issue. I'll fix it later and come back to you."
Draven frowned, suspicious. "Wait—"
"For now, you need to be alive until I can meet you." Mr. Goodness warned with a grinned.
Before he could protest, a blinding light enveloped him, cutting off his words.
"Sh*t!"
Draven shielded his eyes from the intense brightness.
When the light finally dimmed, he opened them cautiously.
He blinked several times, and as his sight cleared, he found himself standing in a lush forest.
'Is this the magical world Mr. Goodness was talking about?'
His grin returned as he surveyed his surroundings.
Massive trees stretched toward the sky. Their branches formed a roof that filtered sunlight onto the ground.
"What kind of world is this?"
As he was looking around, the distant sound of galloping horses snapped him out of his awe.
He spun around just in time to see a group of riders charging toward him.
Their rouge armor and looks appear like they would eat him alive.