In the year 2030, dungeons started appearing on Earth. Chaos reigned. Monsters flooded the world, and everything humans once knew was turned upside down.
I am Noel Vence, just an otaku and a university student… or I was. Now, I'm the first awakener.
I adapted fast. Too fast. Maybe it's because I've read so many novels about situations like this. The world turning into a dungeon? Monsters rising from the depths? I was ready. I fought, and I became one of the strongest hunters in the world.
But today… even I can't do anything.
Standing before me is a tower-like monster. Its form is monstrous, a massive, writhing behemoth that seems to stretch to the heavens. Every movement sends ripples through the air, and I can feel the ground trembling under its weight.
It's not just a monster. It's Titanous Colossus.
I've faced countless beasts before, but nothing like this. Even with all my strength, my powers, all my experience… I can't do anything.
The Titanous Colossus looms over me, its many eyes staring down with a hunger I can't escape. I should be able to fight. But all I can do is stand there, paralyzed.
The boss monster struck, and Noel was gone...
"Noel… Noel, wake up! You're late… Don't you have to beg for your life?"
But what met him wasn't the usual voice. It was the voice of a young boy, no older than 18, calling his name.
Noel blinked, eyes wide with confusion. His mind was reeling as he felt the unfamiliar weight of the new body he inhabited. A flood of realization hit him—he had reincarnated.
In his past life, he was nothing but an otaku, trapped in his own little world. But now? Now he was someone else entirely.
Noel wandered through this strange, unforgiving world, each step more uncertain than the last. As he roamed the streets, he quickly discovered the brutal truth of his new reality—it was a murim world. Survival here wasn't about kindness or mercy. The strong and the cruel ruled, and only those who embodied both traits could truly survive.
If you were strong but lacked cruelty, you'd be trampled by others. If you were cruel but lacked strength, you'd fall victim to those who had both. The balance was clear: power and ruthlessness were essential to thriving in this world.
Then, it hit him. A sudden flash of memory, like a spark igniting a fire. This world... it was from a novel he had read years ago, back in his past life when he was still a high school student. Everything clicked—this was no coincidence. It was the world of the story he had long since forgotten, yet here he was, living it.
Suddenly, a sharp pain surged through Noel's head, like a thousand needles piercing his mind all at once. He stumbled, clutching his temples, as memories that weren't his own flooded in—vivid, disorienting, and foreign.
These weren't just random flashes. They were the memories of the body he now inhabited. The face he saw in the mirror, the hands he now controlled—they weren't his in the traditional sense.
His heart raced as he pieced together the fragments of this new existence. The real owner of this body, the person whose life he had just stepped into, also bore the name Noel.
Confusion tangled with the sharp sting in his mind. Was it fate? A twist of irony? Or something deeper, more sinister at play? The realization hit him hard. He wasn't just in a murim world; he was in a life that was once someone else's—and that someone had lived in the same brutal, unforgiving world he now had to navigate.
Noel blinked, his vision blurry as the pain slowly ebbed away. His body felt foreign, unsteady beneath him. As the fog in his mind began to clear, he realized something else—he was crouched in an alley, clothes ragged and torn, hands outstretched as though waiting for a coin that would never come.
A beggar.
The reality of it hit him like a hammer. This wasn't the life he had imagined. In this new world, he wasn't some mighty warrior or someone who could change his fate with a single strike. No, he was nothing more than a beggar, scrapping for survival in the shadows of a society that thrived on power and cruelty.
He looked around, the harshness of the murim world echoing in every corner. The streets were filled with people—some powerful, others weak, but all of them ruled by the same cold, ruthless laws of survival. And there he was, a mere beggar, struggling to keep his place in a world where only the strongest and the most heartless could endure.
But deep inside, something flickered. A spark of determination. Noel wasn't about to accept this fate. Not after everything that had led him here.
As Noel roamed deeper into the murim world, he soon learned the harsh truth: to survive, you needed to cultivate. Cultivation was everything here—the power to grow stronger, to rise above the rest, and, most importantly, to secure your place in a world where only the most ruthless thrived. But there was a catch.
To cultivate, you needed spiritual roots. Those roots determined your potential, your strength, and your very future.
Noel, however, had none. Absolutely none.
He stood there, staring at the cultivation scroll he'd stumbled across in some alley, only to be met with the devastating realization: without spiritual roots, cultivation was a dead end. No matter how hard he tried, no matter how many books he read or practices he attempted, he would forever remain at the bottom of the ladder, a beggar with no hope of ever rising.
For a moment, it felt like the ground had been ripped out from beneath him. His dreams, his fleeting hopes of escaping this pitiful life, shattered in an instant.
But then, with a dramatic sigh, he muttered to himself, "Well, this is just great. Here I am, a beggar with no roots... Guess I'll just keep begging then. Maybe I can start a new trend—'Begging for Dummies' or something."
It was absurd. His dreams of becoming powerful had been dashed so quickly, it almost felt like a cruel joke. He slumped, feeling the weight of his new, unfortunate reality.
But then, a thought hit him like a bolt of lightning.
"Wait a minute... if I could cultivate... I wouldn't be a beggar at all!"
The realization made him chuckle, shaking his head at how foolish he had been. Here he was, sulking about his fate when the solution was right in front of him. If he could somehow cultivate, he wouldn't be begging for scraps; he'd be on top of the world.
"Alright," Noel said, standing up with a grin. "Time to stop being a fool. If cultivation is the answer, I'll find a way—even if I have to beg for it!"
Suddenly, a voice echoed in Noel's mind, sharp and clear, as though it had always been there, waiting for the right moment.
"Congratulations, host. We detected your determination."
Noel froze, his eyes widening. What... what was this? He looked around, expecting to see someone, but the street was empty. His heart raced as the voice continued.
"The Supreme Lord System binding complete."