The hum of the plane's engines was steady, almost soothing. I shifted in my seat, the thin, plastique blanket tangled around my legs. The book in my hands rested open, but my eyes weren't following the words anymore. Instead, my thoughts were somewhere else, drifting back to that mid-August day—the day everything changed.
Well, I guess I should start from the beginning. Or at least, somewhere close. My name's Gabriel, but everyone just calls me Gabs. Nice to meet you, I guess.
Anyway, where was I? Oh, right. Change. The big kind, the kind you don't see coming until it slams into you like a truck. Growing up in the countryside of Brazil, with its endless fields and slow afternoons, I used to dream. You know, the kind of dreams people tell you to let go of because "that's not how the real world works." I wanted to be someone—someone important, someone whose name people actually knew. I wanted to shine.
But how does a kid from a small town, living under a tin roof with parents who struggled to make ends meet, even start to think that's possible? It sounds ridiculous. Honestly, it felt ridiculous to me, too. Until it came into my life. The Acting System.
I know what you're thinking. "What the hell is that? Some kind of game?" Believe me, I've asked myself the same question a thousand times. Even now, it feels strange to say it out loud, as if naming it might shatter the reality I've built. But it's real.
My thumb ran over the edge of the book's page as I stared out the tiny window, my reflection faint in the glass. Below, the clouds stretched endlessly, soft and inviting, as if nothing could ever go wrong up here.
That August, I wasn't anyone special. Just a guy with big dreams and no clue how to reach them. But the system—it didn't just show me the way; it forced me to take it. Every step, every choice, every moment. It demanded more than I ever thought I could give.
And here I am now, sitting in business class on a flight to Hollywood, of all places. It's funny how life works, isn't it? But we'll get to that part.
First, let me tell you how it all began.
At first, I thought it was just my imagination playing tricks on me. I mean, what else could explain it? A screen—an actual screen—floating in front of me, asking if I wanted a chance to make my dreams come true. Sounds insane, right? I brushed it off, convinced I was sleep-deprived or losing it entirely.
But the thing was, it didn't go away.
Day after day, no matter where I was or what I was doing, it would appear. Silent. Persistent. Always asking the same question. After a week of trying to ignore it, I realized I was out of options. Either I was officially losing my mind, or... this was real.
So, I took the leap.
I accepted, and from that moment on, my life took a turn I never could have imagined. The screen wasn't just some bizarre hallucination—it was a system. The Acting System. And with it came skills. Not the kind of over-the-top abilities you'd see in video games—no swordsmanship or spells here. These were practical, razor-sharp tools:
Acting: Techniques so precise, they transformed how I expressed emotion.
Foreign Language Comprehension: The ability to pick up languages faster than I ever thought possible.
Script Analysis: A knack for peeling back the layers of a script, understanding it on a deeper level than even some seasoned professionals.
Dancing: Graceful, fluid movements that I'd never known my body was capable of.
Singing: Not just holding a note, but feeling it, delivering it straight to an audience's heart.
It was like I'd been handed a toolkit for brilliance, but every tool came with a challenge—a mission. The system demanded effort, discipline, and growth. And failure? Well, let's just say it wasn't an option.
The seatbelt sign pinged, snapping me out of my thoughts. The plane began its descent, and the familiar knot of nerves tightened in my stomach. Even now, after everything I'd accomplished, that feeling never went away.
As the plane touched down and taxied to the gate, I tucked my book into my bag, straightened my jacket, and took a deep breath. The low murmur of the flight attendants faded into the buzz of anticipation. I could already feel it—the crowd.
The door hissed open, and the noise hit me like a wave. Screams. Cameras flashing like lightning. A sea of people surged just beyond the security barriers. "GABRIEL! GABS!" My name was everywhere—on signs, in chants, on everyone's lips.
I stepped out, and the world seemed to tilt for a moment. The air was electric. Paparazzi jostled for the best angle, their lenses clicking in rapid-fire bursts. Fans held out posters, pens, and phones, their voices rising in a chaotic chorus.
For a second, I stood still, letting it wash over me. This wasn't a dream. This was my life now.
A man in a sharp suit approached—my manager, Roberto. "You ready for this, Gabs?" he asked, his grin wide and knowing.
"Always," I replied, though my heart raced in my chest. With a nod, I stepped forward, the crowd parting like waves as I smiled for the cameras. The flashes were blinding, the screams deafening, but I had perfected the art of looking calm, collected, untouchable.
And then, it appeared again.
A translucent screen materialized in front of me, its edges faintly glowing, unnoticed by the sea of people around me. The familiar words hovered mid-air, stark and taunting.
[A new quest has been found. Do you want to accept it?]
My heart skipped a beat. It had been years—years—since the system had presented me with a new quest. I kept my face calm, my practiced smile unwavering for the cameras, but inside, a storm was brewing. The system had been my guide, my partner, propelling me to unimaginable heights. Of course, I wanted to accept. I always did.
"Yes." I whispered under my breath, just loud enough for the system to hear.
But nothing happened. The message didn't disappear. Instead, it flickered like it was waiting for something more.
"Yes, I accept it." I said again, louder this time. My pulse quickened. Still nothing.
The screen remained unchanged. Its glow seemed to intensify, a silent demand pressing down on me.
"I SAID YES!" My voice cracked, sharp and desperate. "I accept it!"
That's when it hit me.
The world lurched. My vision blurred, the bright flashes of cameras around me twisting into streaks of light. The deafening cheers of the crowd morphed into a distant roar, then a muffled hum, as if I'd been submerged underwater. My chest tightened—a sharp, unbearable pressure that stole the air from my lungs.
"Gabriel?" Roberto's voice cut through the haze, distant but laced with panic. "Gabs, are you okay?"
I staggered, my knees buckling on the steps of the plane. My hand shot out, gripping the railing for support, but my strength was slipping away. Roberto's face, once calm and confident, was now twisted in alarm.
The crowd gasped, a collective sound that seemed to ripple across the tarmac. Some people screamed. Paparazzi froze mid-shot, their cameras momentarily forgotten. Then, like a wave breaking, chaos erupted. Flashbulbs popped erratically, fans cried out in confusion, and security guards surged forward, unsure whether to reach for me or hold back the panicking crowd.
"Gabriel!" Roberto was by my side in an instant, his arm wrapping around my shoulders to steady me. "Stay with me. Hey! Someone call for help!"
The sharpness in my chest became unbearable, like a searing weight crushing down on my ribs. My legs gave out completely, and I fell, the world tilting as I crumpled to the ground. The cool metal of the stairs bit into my back, but I barely registered it. Faces swam above me—Roberto's terrified eyes, the security team shouting into radios, the horrified expressions of fans peering over the barriers.
The last thing I saw was the sky—vivid, endless blue. It dimmed, edges turning dark as if someone was painting over it with shadows. The noise around me—the gasps, the screams—faded until there was only silence.
Was this it? Was this how it all ended?
When I opened my eyes, everything was white. Endless, blinding white, like I'd stepped into a void. No ground beneath my feet, no walls around me, just… nothing. My breath came fast and shallow as I stumbled forward, expecting to feel something solid. But there was nothing.
"What the—?" My voice echoed unnaturally in the emptiness. It sounded small, fragile. Panic clawed at me. "Where am I? What's going on? I didn't—"
The system's voice cut through, calm and mechanical, yet somehow all-encompassing.
"Congratulations on accepting your first mandatory quest. It's time to fulfill your potential in the world where it truly matters."
I froze. The words hung in the air, absurd and incomprehensible. "Mandatory?" My voice cracked, anger rising in my chest. "What do you mean mandatory? I didn't agree to this!"
"Your acceptance was explicit."
"No!" I yelled. "I didn't know what I was agreeing to! I thought it was just another quest—another job! Not this—whatever this is!"
The system's tone remained detached, indifferent to my outrage. "The price of receiving the Acting System is the obligation to fulfill one mission in the chosen world. Your previous existence has concluded. This is standard procedure. Welcome to your new beginning."
My knees buckled, though there was no ground to fall onto. My body—or whatever form I now inhabited—trembled. "My… previous existence?" The words felt foreign in my mouth, like they belonged to someone else. "What do you mean, 'concluded'? You killed me!?"
"Your heart attack was a natural consequence of biological exhaustion. The timing was synchronized with your acceptance of the quest. You were never meant to refuse."
I stared into the void, trying to breathe, but it felt like I was suffocating. Biological exhaustion? Synchronized timing? It sounded so cold, so calculated. I clenched my fists, the realization hitting me all at once.
"You used me." I said, my voice shaking. "You took everything I built, everything I worked for, and threw it away like it was nothing. You lied to me."
"Your achievements in your previous world were not wasted. They prepared you for this mission, where your abilities will serve a higher purpose. The opportunity to change the world is a privilege, not a punishment."
"Privilege?" I laughed bitterly, the sound harsh in the sterile emptiness. "You call this a privilege? I didn't ask for this! I didn't ask to die!"
"The system operates beyond your individual desires. Your potential is greater than you realize. This is why you were chosen."
"Chosen for what?" I snapped. "What is this 'mission' that's so important it cost me my life?"
The void rippled, and a new screen appeared before me.
[Mission: Change the world into something better.]
I stared at the words, disbelief and anger warring within me. "Change the world? That's the mission? You dragged me out of my life, killed me, and dumped me into… wherever this is, to give me some vague, impossible task?"
The system's voice remained steady. "The parameters of success are flexible. Your choices will define the outcome. Your talents, skills, and experience are tools. Use them wisely."
I wanted to scream, to argue, to demand answers, but the white void around me began to shift. It twisted and warped, shapes forming like brushstrokes on a blank canvas. Trees grew out of the nothingness, their trunks thick and ancient, their leaves whispering in a breeze I couldn't feel. Sunlight filtered through the canopy, dappling the mossy ground in patches of gold.
The stark, clinical voice of the system returned, its words as final as a judge's gavel.
"Welcome to the world of Eryndor. Your quest begins now."
I stood there, the weight of the mission bearing down on me like an invisible chain. Change the world into something better? What did that even mean? What was I supposed to do in a place I didn't know, with people I'd never met?
I looked around, the surreal beauty of the forest doing nothing to calm the storm inside me. Somewhere, a river murmured in the distance, and the call of unfamiliar birds echoed through the trees. It was peaceful, untouched, and yet it felt suffocating.
I clenched my fists, my jaw tightening. "You threw me into this without a choice. Fine. But if you think I'm going to do this on your terms, you're wrong. I'll find my own way."