The light of two monitors was the last thing Marcus saw. His hands moved quickly over the keyboard. He was writing a bot for Grand-Cross Online while also playing ranked matches in Chat of Duty: Battlegrounds.
News headlines flashed on the television hanging on his wall.
"Global Cyber-Attacks Cripple Infrastructures."
"AI-Driven Drones Patrol Conflict Zones. "
"Spice Girls have returned with a new album."
But he barely noticed them. His world was the grind. He coded by day and fought for the top of the leaderboards by night.
A sharp pain stabbed his chest in the middle of the match. He ignored it, lost in the high of a 78-kill streak.
His avatar, Rage_Quit, moved through the smoke of a downed helicopter. His crosshairs locked onto the last enemy, a top-ranked player wrapped in a $50 legendary camouflage.
Headshot.
The killfeed blazed
[NOTIFICATION] rage_quit [Winner Winner Chicken Dinner]
Then he typed.
[ALL CHAT] Rage_Quit : ?
The chat exploded.
[ALL CHAT] xX_420BlazeIt_Xx : "Bruh, he actually typed the question mark. LMAO."
[ALL CHAT] NoScopeJebus : "FRFR This guy is unreal." [ALL CHAT] GigaChadGamer : "Bro, toxic as hell no cap"
[ALL CHAT] ShrekOnSteroids : "Certified menace to society."
[ALL CHAT] LeeroyJenkins : "HE REALLY WENT FOR IT, CHAT! RESPECT!"
[ALL CHAT] XxxP_ssySlayer69xx : "Damn, even I wouldn't be this bold. Absolute legend."
His left arm went numb. The victory screen flashed once, a final bright spark, and then everything went dark. Silence fell.
Nothing.
Empty dark space, going on forever.
Then.
[SYSTEM] Rebooting...
[SYSTEM] Loading Core Functions...
[SYSTEM] Running Diagnostics...
[SYSTEM] ERROR DETECTED : Unknown Data Signatures
[SYSTEM] Bypassing error...
[SYSTEM] System override engaged.
[SYSTEM] Corruption Level : 0%
[SYSTEM] Unlocked Ability : Code Necrosis
[SYSTEM] Description : Applies impairment to target.
[SYSTEM] Activation : Physical Contact, User Input.
[SYSTEM] Unlocked Ability : Abyss Kernel
[SYSTEM] Description : System Interface.
[SYSTEM] Activation : Default.
[SYSTEM] Welcome, Rage.
[SYSTEM] Corruption Level : 0%
His mind stuttered. "What is this interface?"
Breeze hit his skin.
Rage blinked. He had nothing. Only the rough feel of grit under his palms and a dull ache in his joints. He thought he should at least have a health bar or some stamina meter. He looked around but there was nothing. He flexed his fingers. There was no keyboard resistance. No controller vibrations. Just the coarse dry texture of whatever this was. His breath came steady and too steady. He noticed there was no menu and no way to log out. He knew he should be freaking out but he was not.
The thought should have sent a spike of panic through him. But it didn't. His mind processed everything too smoothly, too logically.
He glanced around. Sand dunes stretched endlessly, broken only by the jagged remnants of crumbling watchtowers and shattered walls. The sky loomed heavy, thick clouds were pressing down like a held breath.
His fingers twitched, reflexively attempting to alt-tab out of whatever VR nightmare this was. No response. No interface command.
"Alright, either I got isekai'd... or I got isekai'd."
He ran a hand through his hair, staring at the horizonless expanse.
"These textures are too realistic."
Then, something growled.
It was low and guttural, too deep for the size of whatever made it.
He turned.
A pair of glowing eyes locked onto him from the dunes. Then another. And another.
His body tensed before his mind even registered the threat.
They didn't just move fast. They blurred. The wolves surged forward, their bodies were twitching between steps.
"That's not normal."
His legs moved before he even decided to run.
His lungs burned. His feet dug into the sand. The wolves closed the distance far too quickly.
"Let's hope this isn't hardcode mode."
Then his foot caught on a rock and crashed to the ground.
The wolves made loud howls that broke the quiet of the desert.
Rage scrambled to his feet, but the wolves were already around him. Their eyes glowed and stared at him.
He backed against a jagged rock. His breathing was heavy. There was no escape. He was trapped.
The first wolf lunged, and Rage reacted on instinct, grabbing a sharp stone from the ground.
He swung his arms and hit the beast on the jaw. It yelped and stepped back, but another one came forward.
He fought with everything he had, swinging the stone, kicking, and punching. But the wolves were relentless.
One by one they attacked. Their claws tore into his skin and pain surged through him, but he ignored it, thinking it was all part of the game's immersion.
He was getting weaker. His movements slowed. Blood ran from his wounds and stained the sand under him. He fell to his knees.
A massive wolf jumped at him, its jaws were snapping toward his face.
He raised his arm to protect himself. The wolf's teeth sank into his flesh. Pain ran through his body once more, but then something strange happened.
An interface appeared before his eyes, displaying the beast's information.
[SYSTEM] Direwolf Lv.8
[SYSTEM] class : Predator
[SYSTEM] hostile
His mind raced.
Instinct took over.
With trembling fingers, he reached-out and grabbed the wolf's neck. Another interface appeared, waiting for his input.
His mind reacted like muscle memory. A command came naturally. He willed it to act, as if he was typing a line of code with his mind.
[USER] target: windpipe
[USER] status: smashed
[USER] *enter*
[SYSTEM] Input recognized
[SYSTEM] Processing...
The wolf twitched violently. Its muscles locked as if it was fighting something unseen.
[SYSTEM] Code Necrosis Activated
The beast's body froze while it snarled, then it collapsed.
Hope rose in him, but it did not last. This was not a moment to celebrate.
The pack was too large. There were too many. He could not code them all.
They surrounded him.
Their claws and teeth tore into his body.
He fell to the ground. His vision became blurry.
He was dying. He knew it.
The wolves came in for the kill. Their growls filled his ears.
The sun felt hotter. His lips were dry. He stopped hoping and accepted his fate.
"I should be able to wake up after this," he muttered.
Then a loud voice echoed across the desert.
"FOOL."
A woman's voice spoke. It sounded like someone who had already seen this exact mess coming.
The air broke with a loud crack. The wolves froze while snarling, then scattered.
Through the dust charged a silhouette. A warlord clad in a moving citadel.
[SYSTEM] Ignia Lv.55
[SYSTEM] class : Armswoman
[SYSTEM] loyalty : 29.6%
Her armor was black steel plates that fit tightly and looked strong. The edges were sharp. Two banners were attached to the armor's back. The left banner had a golden phoenix with worn wings. The right banner had a black sun that still seemed to burn. Behind her were three figures and another banner held higher than the sun.
She moved forward. The banners behind her moved with the wind. Her huge sword cut through the wolves. Blood dripped from it and hissed when it hit the sand.
"Pathetic mutts."
She spat on the corpses.
She barely looked at Rage. Her visor was up, showing a face that did not belong here. High cheekbones and golden eyes made her look dangerous. Her gaze passed over him quickly. It was not curiosity or concern. She looked at him like a queen looking at a peasant, simply confirming he was there.
She didn't ask who he was. Didn't ask why he was there. Instead, she sighed, tilting her head as if this was more of an inconvenience than an unexpected encounter.
"You. What's a scrawny rat like you doing here?"
He shrugged. "I got lost my way to... Starbucks?"
Her laugh was loud and rough.
"Starbucks? Never heard of that clan, rat!"
She hit him on the back. It was not a friendly gesture, but a test of strength. The blow shook his ribs and knocked the air from his lungs.
"If you die out here, your smart mouth's wasted."
She did not stay. She did not wait for a thank-you or an explanation. She turned and barked orders to her men. Rage's survival was just another part of her work.
As one of them knelt beside him, tending his wounds, Rage finally let exhaustion take him.
Darkness swallowed him.
[System] Corruption Level : 2%
[System] Unlocked Ability : Null Veil
[System] Description : Enhances overall speed and evasion.
[System] Activation : User Input.
[System] Unlocked Ability : Dead Circuit
[System] Description : Allows Equipment Stat Manipulation.
[System] Activation : User input.
The notification stayed at the edge of his mind. Its details slipped through the fog of half-consciousness. Corruption value... something. It did not seem important for now.
It faded with the last bits of sleep. Then came the cold. Stone scraped against his legs. His spine ached from being dragged across uneven ground. Heavy footsteps echoed around him as he came to his senses.
The fortress was not like a castle. It looked like a jagged fist of black stone. Its walls were scarred by siege weapons. Soldiers in saluted Ignia as she walked through the gates.
Torchlight flickered against tall walls. Banners were raised high, showing pride and conquest. Ignia dragged Rage by the collar.
"You will work off your life debt in the armory," she said, pushing him into a large room filled with cracked weapons.
"Fix what you can. A war is brewing."
Rage blinked. "I'm a programmer, not a blacksmith."
"A what?"
He sighed. "Never mind."
A gruff voice cut in before Ignia could leave. "Oi, who's the new kid?"
[SYSTEM] Grimr Lv.45
[SYSTEM] class : Craftsman
[SYSTEM] Neutral
Rage turned and saw a broad-shouldered man. His arms were streaked with soot, and his leather apron was burned in many places. His beard looked more like ash than hair, and his glare showed the strength of someone who had worked with steel longer than Rage had been alive.
"Some lost pup the queen picked up," one of the soldiers chuckled.
The blacksmith snorted. "That so? Well, pup, you got hands. You'll use 'em."
He jabbed a finger toward the cluttered racks of swords and axes, their edges dulled by time and war.
"If you're breathing in my forge, you're working."
Rage raised an eyebrow but didn't argue.
The blacksmith eyed him for a moment before grunting. "You got a name, or should I just call you 'Boy'?"
Rage hesitated. His old name felt too foreign now. Too distant.
"Rage."
The blacksmith huffed. "Dramatic. Alright, Rage, quit standing around like a lost pup. Get to work."
He tossed a rag at Rage's face. "Start scrubbing."
Rage sighed and got to work. He dragged the cloth over a rusted short sword. The metal groaned as he rubbed it.
He exhaled.
"Guess I'm on dish duty... but with swords," he muttered to himself.
The blacksmith heard a bit of what he muttered. "What is it, boy?"
"Nothing," Rage said.
"That's what I thought," the blacksmith replied.
Rage's hands kept moving, wiping away layers of grime. The repetitive motion gave him time to process everything.
A different world. No way to log out. A queen who looked like she could lift a horse.
Totally normal.
Then, an interface at the edge of his vision.
[system] steel broadsword
[system] durability: 10%
[system] attack: 25
Rage ran his fingers along the chipped edge. Rust and tiny cracks covered the blade. It looked like it would break at any moment.
"Let's see if this works..." he muttered, curious, and adjusted the sword's values to something absurd.
[SYSTEM] Dead Circuit Activated
[SYSTEM] Processing restoration...
[SYSTEM] Error detected. Attack parameter exceeds standard reinforcement.
[SYSTEM] Restoration failed. Weapon integrity compromised.
The sword heated. The metal softened and twisted in strange ways. Its structure could not hold against the force reshaping it.
A moment later, the blade broke, falling apart on its own. The hilt burned his palm as the pieces hit the ground.
Rage sighed and shook his head.
"So we're not running a New Vegas mod pack. Got it," he muttered.
He grabbed another weapon and rolled it in his grip.
"Alright, this one," he muttered, adjusting the values to something moderate he could remember from the games he had played in his previous world.
[SYSTEM] Dead Circuit Activated
[SYSTEM] Processing restoration...
[SYSTEM] Reinforcing blade structure...
[SYSTEM] Repair successful.
This time, the sword responded smoothly. The edges straightened, imperfections disappeared, and the structure settled without struggle. No tricks, just simple optimization.
"Now we're talking," he muttered.
He pulled another weapon from the pile and tested its weight. He adjusted the values slightly higher than before, aiming for something stronger but still manageable.
The modification failed. The weapon was too unstable.
Rage narrowed his eyes. He decided to stick with average stats for now. No god-mode, no one-shot builds. He would have to play fair.
By dusk, he had repaired almost the entire armory. Once-broken swords, spears, and axes now gleamed like freshly forged steel, their edges sharp and ready.
[SYSTEM] Corruption Level : 6%
[SYSTEM] Unlocked Ability : Red Static
[SYSTEM] Description : Wildcard Abilities Gacha.
[SYSTEM] Activation : Automatic on start of combat.
Rage noticed the notification. He frowned. It was too vague, and he did not know what it was for.
The blacksmith stood frozen. His soot-streaked hands gripped the edge of the workbench.
His eyes darted between the restored weapons and Rage, as if trying to decide whether to be impressed or horrified.
"You... what in the hell did you just do?" he muttered, scratching his head in disbelief.
Rage looked up, his expression unreadable.
"I... cleaned them," he said simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
Across the armory, just beyond the edge of his vision, the Queen's war room lay quiet and still.
Through the narrow window, Rage saw the glint of a greatsword covered in cloth. Its tall frame looked more like a stone pillar than a weapon. It stood silently beside a shelf full of old books and scrolls. The dusty cloth blended almost completely into the shadows.
Rage's eyes passed over it without a second thought, as if it was just another forgotten relic in the cluttered corners of the room.
***
Ignia marched into the armory. Her footsteps were firm and purposeful, expecting to see the blacksmith working.
Her eyes moved across the room. When they landed on Rage, she paused, surprised. He stood there calm, casual, which was not what she had expected.
She looked at the old man, but he just nodded toward Rage, silently indicating him.
Ignia's gaze went back to him. Awe and disbelief crossed her face.
The room hummed with activity. Even the most broken weapons had been repaired. Her voice broke the quiet, sharp and commanding.
"Explain yourself," she said, her tone was sharp and full of suspicion.
"I told you. Programmer."
She shook her head, as if dismissing the matter altogether. "Whatever. We need more men to fight."
Rage met her gaze, his expression was flat. "Fight? Not into PVP."
Ignia's eyes narrowed, a smirk playing at the corners of her lips.
"Then we'll use your bones as clubs."
Ignia turned to one of the soldiers nearby.
"You! Get him trained. Teach him a few basic swipes with a sword. He's fighting whether he likes it or not."
The soldier, a lanky veteran with a scarred face, approached Rage with a resigned sigh.
Without a word, he shoved a sword into Rage's hands.
"Alright," he muttered, "show me what you can do."
Rage blinked, confusion was clouding him. "What?"
The soldier's eyes narrowed. "Queen's orders."
Rage took the sword, his fingers were stiff and uncertain. His awkward grip showed his lack of experience, and the blade felt heavy and strange in his hands.
The soldier nodded quickly toward a tall training dummy at the far end of the room.
"That," he said, "is where you start."
"Start with the basics," he grumbled. "Swing for the head. Try to hit it with the edge."
Rage swung the blade. It cut through the air with a hollow thud and hit the dummy's shoulder with the dull edge. The soldier pulled back slightly, looking uneasy.
"Again," the soldier barked. "Focus. Get your stance right first."
Rage adjusted his footing, trying to mirror the soldier's earlier demonstration. With a deep breath, he swung again, this time aiming for the dummy's head.
The sword hit the cloth, but it did not cut cleanly. Rage gritted his teeth, frustrated, and swung again.
Hours passed in a blur of strikes, missed swings, and the occasional scolding from the soldier.
Sweat soaked Rage's brow, and his arms ached from the repeated motions. He kept swinging, but his form was still sloppy, and his timing was off.
The soldier's patience grew thin. "You're making progress, but you still swing like a drunk farmer. Focus."
Rage exhaled sharply and steadied himself. He swung again, hitting the dummy's midsection. It was not perfect, but it was something.
The soldier grunted. "It will take time, but that is no excuse in a fight. You will need to do better."
He turned and joined the others, leaving Rage alone with the dummy.
Rage gripped the sword tighter. Its weight felt like the weight on his shoulders.
He focused, remembering the soldier's instructions about stance, grip, aim and swing.
Rage wondered why he could not just skip the tutorial and get to the good part, thinking bitterly like a player stuck at the start of a grind-heavy game.
But this was not a game. Not anymore.
He took a deep breath and swung again. The blade cut through the air in a wide arc. This time the strike was a little more controlled, but still weak.
He growled under his breath, his frustration was rising, but he did not stop. He had to keep going.
He adjusted his footing and brought the sword back, trying to get the timing right. The tip of the blade hit the dummy's shoulder, missing slightly.
Rage frowned and reset, repeating the motion over and over, each time a little stronger and a little more precise.
Sweat poured down, but he did not stop. The burn in his muscles was both punishment and proof of how far he had to go and how much further he had to push.
Minutes passed, but Rage kept swinging, each strike was a step toward something he could not fully name, but could feel.
When he finally hit the dummy solidly, it was not perfect, but it was something. A small moment of success in a sea of frustration.
His breathing was heavy, Rage stepped back and stared at the dummy.
"Welp, that was... something," he muttered to himself.
For the first time that day, he felt like he was making progress.
[SYSTEM] Queen Ignia : Loyalty 36.4%
[SYSTEM] Corruption : 6%