Arman had learned one thing early in life.
If you are weak, the world does not wait for you.
"Move faster!" his uncle's voice thundered from the kitchen. "You think electricity bill pays itself?"
"I'm going," Arman replied quietly, tying the worn laces of his only pair of sneakers.
Nineteen years old. Thin. Slightly hunched. Not from height — but from habit. The habit of shrinking himself so he wouldn't be noticed.
His aunt shoved a delivery bag into his chest. "Don't come back late. And if they cut money from your salary again, don't expect dinner."
He nodded.
Dinner was never guaranteed anyway.
Outside, the evening air was cold. He adjusted the faded pizza delivery jacket — two sizes too big, donated by someone who had quit.
He mounted the old motorbike. It coughed twice before starting.
"Just survive," he muttered to himself.
That was always the goal.
The rain started halfway through his last delivery.
Not heavy. Just enough to blur the streetlights.
Arman checked the address again.
"Building C… fourth floor…"
He was already late.
The bike's headlight flickered.
"Don't do this," he whispered.
Then it happened.
A truck's horn.
Blinding white light.
The screech of tires.
Impact.
The world flipped.
Metal screamed.
His body slammed against something hard.
And then—
Silence.
He woke up standing.
Not lying down.
Standing.
Arman blinked.
The rain was gone. The street was gone.
Instead, he stood inside a massive open space glowing with soft blue light. The floor beneath him shimmered like glass, reflecting his stunned expression.
"What…?"
Rows of figures stood scattered around him. Men. Women. Young. Old. All looking just as confused.
Above them floated transparent panels filled with symbols and text.
A voice echoed.
Clear. Calm. Genderless.
[Welcome, Player.]
Arman froze.
"Player…?"
The word felt wrong.
Another glowing screen appeared in front of his face.
NAME: ARMAN
AGE: 19
STATUS: Level 0
Physical Condition: Below Average
Strength: 3
Agility: 4
Endurance: 2
Luck: 1
"Below average?" he whispered, offended despite everything.
A small notification blinked.
[First-Time User Detected.]
[Initializing Tutorial Lobby.]
Around him, people began panicking.
"Where are we?!"
"Is this a prank?!"
"I was driving— I was at work—"
One man tried to run toward the edge of the platform. The moment he touched the glowing boundary, a pulse of energy pushed him back.
[Movement restricted. Please prepare for match.]
"Match?" Arman's heart pounded.
Another panel opened in front of him.
Appearance Customization Available
Basic Outfit (Free)
Street Set (Locked – Level 2)
Tactical Gear (Locked – Level 5)
Elite Combat Suit (Locked – Level 15)
He stared.
Clothes?
He hesitantly tapped Basic Outfit.
His oversized pizza jacket dissolved into particles of light. In its place appeared a fitted dark hoodie, fingerless gloves, and reinforced boots.
He touched the fabric.
It felt real.
"What is this place…?"
Another menu blinked open.
Skill Selection (Locked)
Firearms Handling (Unlocks at Level 1)
Enhanced Sprint (Level 2)
Quick Reload (Level 3)
Damage Resistance (Level 5)
Precision Aim (Level 7)
He swallowed.
"Skills…? Like… abilities?"
[Correct.]
He jumped.
"Who said that?!"
[I am the System.]
The voice wasn't loud. It simply existed inside his head.
"Am I dead?"
[Negative. You are selected.]
"Selected for what?"
A pause.
Then—
[Survival.]
The word echoed differently.
Colder.
A loud metallic sound rang through the lobby.
Across the platform, more people were examining their own screens.
A tall muscular guy laughed. "Yo! This is sick! Is this some VR thing?"
A girl near Arman whispered, "I don't understand… I don't understand…"
Arman looked at his stats again.
Level 0.
Strength: 3.
Luck: 1.
He let out a dry laugh.
"Even here… I'm still weak."
[Observation accurate.]
"Hey!"
[However, progression is possible.]
He looked up.
"Progression?"
[Eliminate opponents. Survive. Become the last standing. Earn experience. Level up.]
The air suddenly felt heavier.
"Eliminate…?"
Before he could ask more, a massive countdown appeared in the sky above the lobby.
00:30
The numbers glowed red.
People noticed.
"What's that?!"
"Thirty seconds to what?!"
Arman's breathing quickened.
"What happens at zero?"
[Match begins.]
He clenched his fists.
"This isn't a game…"
[Correction: This is a System-regulated survival event.]
"That's worse!"
The countdown hit 10.
The platform began to hum.
At 3… 2… 1—
The floor vanished.
Wind roared in his ears.
Arman screamed.
He was falling.
Clouds tore past him as he plummeted through the sky.
"What is happening?!" he yelled.
Then he saw it.
An airplane.
A massive military aircraft flying above the clouds.
And dozens — no — hundreds of people were diving from it.
Some were screaming.
Some were silent.
Below them stretched an enormous island.
Forests.
Buildings.
Roads.
Water.
It looked… peaceful.
It wasn't.
[Welcome to Level 1.]
A small map appeared in the corner of his vision.
Red dots.
Blue zone boundaries.
A shrinking circle outline.
"This is insane…" he muttered.
[Tip: Choose landing location wisely.]
"I don't know any location!"
A glowing line pointed toward clusters of buildings.
He noticed something.
Some people were diving straight down aggressively.
Others glided toward distant areas.
"Are they… choosing where to land?"
[Affirmative.]
His brain clicked.
"If everyone lands in one place… they'll fight immediately."
[High risk. High reward.]
"And if I land far away?"
[Lower initial engagement probability. Reduced early resource acquisition.]
He didn't fully understand — but instinct kicked in.
He adjusted his fall, angling toward a smaller group of houses near the edge of the island.
"I just need to survive," he whispered.
Wind burned his eyes.
The ground rushed up fast.
At the last second, something deployed behind him — slowing his descent.
He hit the rooftop of a small house, rolling clumsily.
Pain shot through his shoulder.
But he was alive.
He lay there breathing heavily.
The sky was suddenly silent.
No music.
No announcements.
Just wind.
He sat up.
Other figures were landing nearby — maybe five… ten houses away.
"Okay," he muttered. "Think. Think."
[Objective: Be the last man standing.]
"Stop reminding me!"
He slid off the roof and entered the house through an open window.
Dusty furniture.
Empty kitchen.
Silence.
Then he saw it.
On a table.
A weapon.
Dark metal.
Compact.
He stared at it.
His hand trembled as he picked it up.
The moment he touched it—
[Firearms Acquired.]
[Basic Handling Enabled – Temporary.]
Information flooded his mind.
How to hold it.
How to aim.
How to reload.
He gasped.
"What— I suddenly know how to use this."
[System assistance active until Level 1 completion.]
A sound cracked in the distance.
Gunfire.
Short bursts.
Someone screamed.
His heart nearly stopped.
"That's real…"
This wasn't a simulation.
Those screams weren't digital.
Footsteps outside.
Close.
Very close.
Arman froze.
His breathing became shallow.
The door handle turned slowly.
He raised the gun with shaking hands.
The door creaked open.
A boy — maybe his age — stepped inside, holding another weapon.
They locked eyes.
Fear.
Recognition.
Understanding.
Only one walks out.
The other boy raised his gun first.
Arman reacted without thinking.
He pulled the trigger.
The sound exploded inside the small room.
The recoil jolted his arms.
The other boy stumbled backward.
Fell.
Silence.
Arman's ears rang.
His hands shook violently.
"I… I…"
The body didn't move.
A notification appeared.
ELIMINATION CONFIRMED
+100 EXP
Level Up Available
He stared at the glowing text.
Level up.
His chest felt tight.
He looked at the boy on the floor.
"He was just… like me…"
[Hesitation reduces survival probability.]
"Shut up…" Arman whispered hoarsely.
Another gunshot echoed nearby.
Closer this time.
People were fighting everywhere.
The safe zone boundary on his map began to shrink.
[Warning: Area will restrict soon.]
He looked at the stairs.
More footsteps.
Multiple.
He wiped his tears roughly.
Something inside him hardened.
"If I don't move… I die."
His screen blinked again.
Level 1 Unlocked
Skill Available: Firearms Handling (Permanent)
His finger hovered over the upgrade option.
Outside, someone shouted.
Another burst of gunfire.
Arman took a deep breath.
He pressed Upgrade.
A surge of energy rushed through him.
His grip steadied.
His vision sharpened slightly.
Fear didn't disappear.
But it no longer controlled him.
He walked toward the door.
Slow.
Careful.
The weak pizza delivery boy was gone.
For now.
Above the island, the sky darkened slightly.
And far beyond what he could see—
The System observed.
[Subject ARMAN adapting.]
[Survival instinct increasing.]
[Potential detected.]
Arman stepped outside into the chaos of Level 1.
He didn't know it yet.
But this was the first moment—
The first step—
Toward becoming the last man standing.