The small town of Elliot Lake had always been a quiet, if unassuming, place to live. Nestled in the Canadian wilderness of northern Ontario, the community thrived on its close-knit bonds and rugged natural beauty. For the 18-year-old James, though, it was a place he couldn't wait to escape. Every street felt like a dead-end, every familiar face a reminder of the life he didn't want to lead.
Tall for his age, with dark brown hair that never quite stayed in place and sharp black eyes that always seemed to be searching for something beyond his surroundings. He had just graduated high school that summer. While most of his classmates were either heading off to university or settling into local jobs, he found himself in limbo. He didn't have the grades or money for a prestigious college, nor the desire to stay in a town where everyone knew his name. He was the mystery child, he never knew his parents. James was raised at an orphanage that he was told he just appeared in for no apparent reason, and he had gotten adopted and returned more times than he could count. All for the same reason, his eyes. They were the prettiest eyes you would ever see, but they were sharp and unforgiving, and that made parents not want him near their "real children".
Most of his days were spent working part-time at the local hardware store, a job he'd taken more out of obligation than interest. His nights, however, were another story entirely. Immersed in games, he lost himself in fantastical worlds. Whether it was MMORPGs, classic RPGs, or sprawling open-world adventures, he had spent countless hours exploring realms of swords and sorcery. It was his escape, his way of pretending that the mundane reality of his life wasn't all there was.
Yet, he didn't see himself as special. In his own words, he was "just a guy." He wasn't particularly athletic, he regularly played tennis and soccer, and he also did martial arts, but due to a condition that whenever he went running his knees started to inflame, he wasn't able to push his limits and eventually fell behind his peers. He wasn't a genius either, but he was resourceful, good at thinking on his feet—a skill honed from years of solving puzzles and strategizing in games. What he did have, though, was an overwhelming curiosity about the world—or rather, worlds beyond.
His love for fantasy wasn't just about escapism; it was a longing for something greater. He'd spent hours staring at the night sky, wondering if there was more out there, something waiting for him beyond the stars or the veil of reality. It was a thought that comforted him on his loneliest nights, even if he'd never admit it to anyone. Those thoughts often felt like the only thing that truly belonged to him.
One particularly rainy evening in late September, he found himself walking home from the hardware store. The air was crisp, and the first hints of autumn had started to color the trees in shades of amber and crimson. He'd stayed late to help organize the stockroom, earning him an extra $20 and a pat on the back from his boss. As he trudged along the dimly lit road, his thoughts drifted to the latest game he'd been playing, Eldoria: Chronicles of the Rift. The game's expansive lore and intricate world-building had captured his imagination, and he couldn't wait to dive back in once he got home. The player's journey—full of danger, discovery, and unlikely triumph—was everything he wished for his own life.
Lost in thought, his mind wandered to the intricate quests and sprawling landscapes of Eldoria: Chronicles of the Rift, picturing the player's daring exploits. It wasn't until a sudden, jarring roar shattered the quiet—the deep rumble of an engine growing louder with alarming speed—that he snapped out of his reverie. Too late to react, he froze as blinding headlights bore down on him. The blaring horn and screech of tires filled his ears as the massive vehicle struck him, and everything went black.
The driver inside the truck, if they could be called that, calmly pulled out a clipboard. A slender hand, impossibly smooth and featureless, ticked a box next to the number 200. If anyone had been nearby, they might have heard a genderless voice sigh in relief, muttering, "Quota met, just in time." The truck disappeared moments later, leaving no trace of its presence.
When he opened his eyes, he was lying on soft grass, his body aching but miraculously intact. He groaned as he pushed himself up, his mind reeling. The last thing he remembered was the truck—and then... nothing. Now, he was somewhere completely different.
He found himself in a vast meadow under a sky unlike any he'd ever seen. Twin suns hung low on the horizon, casting the landscape in hues of gold and lavender. Strange, towering trees dotted the meadow, their leaves shimmering like glass in the light. The air was rich with a mix of unfamiliar yet intoxicating scents—a blend of wildflowers, dew, and something almost magical.
In the distance, he could see a city—its spires gleaming and its walls lined with banners that flapped in the breeze. Beyond the city, the landscape stretched endlessly, filled with mountains that seemed to touch the heavens and rivers that glowed faintly under the twin suns. Everything about this place felt surreal, as though it had been plucked straight from one of his favorite games.
He ran his hand through the grass, marveling at how soft and cool it felt against his skin. Standing slowly, his legs shaky but functional, he whispered, "This can't be real." But it was real. The ache in his limbs, the breeze on his face, and the distant hum of life all around him made it clear—this wasn't a dream.
Just as he began to steady himself, a faint rustling caught his attention. From the forest's edge to his left, a pair of creatures emerged. They were unlike anything he'd seen before—small, dog-like beings with glowing eyes and fur that seemed to shift colors like a living aurora. The creatures stared at him, their heads tilting in unison, as though curious about this stranger in their world.
Before he could react, a loud cry echoed from the direction of the city. It wasn't a sound of alarm, but of something large—perhaps a horn—announcing some sort of event. The creatures' ears perked up, and they turned their glowing eyes toward the city. In an instant, they darted off, their movements so fluid it seemed as if they were gliding rather than running.
Still catching his breath, he noticed a faint shimmering in the air before him. A translucent panel appeared, floating in midair. Lines of glowing text began to form on its surface:
[SYSTEM INITIALIZING...]
[Welcome, James]
The words pulsed faintly before shifting to a new set of text:
Name: James
Race: Riftborn
Class: Undetermined
Level: 1
XP: 0/100
Health: 100/100
Mana: 100/100
Mana Regen: 0.1 M/S
Strength: 1
Vitality: 10
Dexterity: 1
Intelligence: 10
Wisdom: 1
Perception: 1
Stamina: 1
SP: 0
SMP: 0
Abilities: Analyze (Level 1) (Unique)
Skills: None
Spells: None
Resistances and Immunities: Canadian (Level 1) (Unique)
Quests: Choose or create your class (Unique Quest) (Reward: The weapon used by your class, 50 XP)
The panel dissolved, leaving him stunned, he was so stunned, he didn't even notice he wasn't human anymore. This wasn't just a strange new world—it was a system-driven one, a place where rules and objectives mirrored those of the games he'd spent so much time playing. A mix of excitement and unease coursed through him. If this world operated on a system, then maybe—just maybe—he had a chance to survive and even thrive here.
"YESSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!" James screamed into the sky, "FINALLY!!!"