Nothing.
That's how it began. A silent, cold, formless void—the kind of darkness that comes before consciousness. Fragmented memories floated like dust in a lone beam of light: the glow of a monitor late at night, the satisfying sound of a mechanical keyboard, the smell of reheated coffee, and the persistent, dull pain in his chest that he had learned to ignore.He was a developer. A world builder. Now, he was nothing.
...system booting...
A voice? No, more like a thought. One that wasn't his.
...calibrating optical sensors...
A thin line of blue light tore through the darkness. It wasn't external light, but internal. A Heads-Up Display, or HUD. His programmer brain recognized the concept instantly. The line expanded, forming a rectangular frame. Indecipherable data scrolled along the edges before stabilizing.
[STATUS: STABLE. ARCANO-VITAL ENERGY: 34%. DIAGNOSTIC: COMPLETE REBOOT.]
He tried to blink, but had no eyelids. Instead, the HUD flickered. He tried to move a hand to rub his eyes—a reflex. What rose into his field of view was not a human hand. It was a claw. A massive claw made of dark metal, with overlapping plates that looked at once organic and forged. Veins of sky-blue light pulsed gently at the joints, synchronized with a rhythmic beat he now felt in his chest—a pulsing core instead of a heart.
Panic would have been the logical reaction. Screams. Despair. But his new mind—or perhaps the system now governing it—processed everything with a frightening calm. He raised the other claw. Identical. Inhuman. He looked down. An armored torso, powerful legs ending in equally formidable clawed feet, and a long segmented tail moving slowly behind him, lightly scratching the stone floor of the dark cave he was in.
"What kind of... build is this?" he muttered. The voice that came out wasn't his. It was deep, resonant, with a metallic timbre that made the air vibrate.
"Well, well! The Steel Sleeping Beauty finally wakes up!"
The voice, lively and full of mischief, came from the entrance of the cave. A lithe silhouette stepped into the shadows, and his optical sensors adjusted automatically, brightening the image. It was a young man, slim… with cat ears? And a tail that swayed cheerfully. He wore a short black top, gloves with paw pads, and a golden bell jingled from the choker on his neck with each movement.
It was Mika Nyanori.
"Good morning, Scaly! Or good evening? Hard to tell down here," Mika said, approaching without a trace of fear, his eyes shining with predatory curiosity. "I was starting to think you were just a really, really cool statue. But statues don't snore, meow."
The metallic dragon merely stared at him, processing. A nekomimi. A catboy. In a world that clearly wasn't his. "Who... what are you? Where am I?"
Mika giggled, pure charm in his laugh. "So many questions! I'm Mika. And you're in a cave where I found you. You were... let's say 'offline.' For days." He stepped closer, reaching out a paw-gloved hand to touch the dragon's armored leg. "Wow, cold. And so hard… I wonder if you're that hard everywhere..."
The dragon instinctively pulled his leg back.[ALERT: UNAUTHORIZED PROXIMITY.] flashed on his HUD.
"No touching," his voice boomed, firmer this time.
"Aww, so grumpy! I like that," Mika purred, licking his lips. "A big, strong and difficult type like you must be delicious to tame. How about we... get to know each other better? Here and now? This cave is pretty cozy, you know?"
"No." The answer was immediate and inflexible. His mind was spinning. Death, reincarnation, a metal dragon body, a flirty catboy… it was like the wildest draft of a game concept he would never have approved. "I need information. The name of this place. What happened to me."
"All in good time, Steel Stud," Mika winked. "First, let's get out of here. The air's getting thick with all that metallic testosterone. Besides, the village of Serene Creek isn't far. They've got beer. And beds. We could test the durability of one of them, if you'd like…"
"I'll go first," the dragon said, ignoring the last offer and moving toward the light. Each step was heavy, powerful. He felt the strength in every fiber of that body. It was overwhelming. As he exited the cave, the sunlight hit him. His HUD adjusted instantly, applying a polarizing filter. The world that unfolded before him was breathtaking. Lush mountains, a sky impossibly blue, and in the distance, the outline of a small village with a thin column of smoke rising from it.
A perfect fantasy world. One he would've dreamed of creating.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" said Mika, now at his side. "Come on, Harlan's tavern is right over there. Maybe a little alcohol will make you more... receptive."
The walk to Serene Creek was an exercise in patience for the dragon, and a flirting festival for Mika. Every five steps came a new pickup line, each more creative and shameless than the last. And each time, a short, blunt rejection.
However, as they reached the village gates, the mood shifted. The place that had seemed peaceful from afar was immersed in tense silence. People watched from their windows in fear. And the reason soon became clear.
In the village square, three figures in black armor like obsidian, adorned with runes glowing a sinister purple, were surrounding a farmer. They weren't human. They had feline features, like humanoid panthers, and their movements were predatory and cruel.
"The tribute is late, old man," one growled, shoving the man, who fell into the mud. "Lady Nyxra doesn't like to wait."
"Please… the harvest was poor," the old man begged.
The soldier laughed, a harsh sound. "Not my problem." He raised a curved dagger, the blade also glowing purple.
The dragon stopped. In his chest, his energy core pulsed harder. An emotion he hadn't felt in a long time, buried under lines of code and deadlines, rose to the surface: rage. Pure, cold rage. Seeing bullies oppress the weak… it was a universal "quest trigger." A purpose.
"UmbraClaw soldiers," Mika whispered, all playfulness gone from his tone. "Nyxra Vellshade's claws. We shouldn't get involved."
But the dragon was already moving—not toward the soldiers, but toward the largest building in the square: a tavern with a wooden sign that read The Weary Stag. If he was going to fight, he needed information. To understand the rules of this "game."
Inside the tavern, it was nearly empty, except for a burly man behind the counter—Harlan, the owner—and a young man drying mugs in the corner. The young man was slender, with a delicate face and gentle eyes that seemed to carry the sadness of the world. He stopped what he was doing the moment the metallic dragon entered, eyes wide with not fear, but awe.
"Welcome to—by all the gods…" Harlan stammered, dropping the mug he was polishing.
The dragon ignored the owner and approached the young man. "I need answers. Now."
The young man swallowed hard but nodded. "My name is Lian. And… I'll answer what I can, sir...?"
"He doesn't have a name yet! How about 'My Future Husband'?" Mika chimed in, throwing a challenging look at Lian.
"Ignore him," said the dragon, his voice commanding. "Explain. Those soldiers. This 'Lady Nyxra.'"
Lian took a deep breath, his gaze fixed on the imposing figure before him. "You're not from here, are you? They… they serve Neth'Rakul, the Star Devourer. A cosmic god of pure entropy who's consuming our world. But he doesn't act directly. He has ten Commanders—fragments of his power and will—who rule in his place. Nyxra Vellshade, the Shadow Queen, is one of them. The UmbraClaw Clan is her personal army."
The dragon processed the information. An evil god. Ten sub-bosses. The structure was classic. "And how do you stop this god?"
Lian's face grew dark. "The only way to weaken Neth'Rakul is to destroy his fragments. Kill the Commanders. But… there's a terrible price." He stepped closer, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Whoever defeats a Commander doesn't just kill them. They absorb their essence. Their power. The piece of soul that belonged to Neth'Rakul fuses with theirs. You grow stronger, yes—but also closer to corruption. Many heroes have tried… and became worse monsters than the ones they hunted, consumed by darkness before they ever got close to defeating Neth'Rakul."
A purpose. A clear goal with massive risk. It was the perfect challenge. For the first time in that world, the former game developer felt a flicker of excitement. He finally had a main quest.
"Thank you, Lian. You've been very helpful," the dragon said, the metallic resonance in his voice carrying a hint of… gratitude.
Lian blushed, a soft pink coloring his cheeks. He seemed to see something in the dragon no one else did—not a monster, but a protector. A hope. "Sir… before you go face that evil… may I… may I ask a favor?"
"Speak."
"As a… a token of good luck," Lian said, voice trembling. "May I… kiss your cheek?"
The dragon stood still for a moment. Such a human gesture, so small. He was no longer that human. That body, that life, no longer existed. What was a kiss to a two-ton war machine? "If it brings you comfort… do it."
With a shy, radiant smile, Lian stood on tiptoes and pressed his lips gently to the cold metal plate on the dragon's face. It was an innocent touch, full of hope.
"HEY! GET YOUR MOUTH OFF THERE, YOU KISS-THIEF!"
Mika's high-pitched cry pierced the air. The catboy stood with hands on hips, tail bristling in pure jealousy. "I saw him first! He's my big guy! You can't just go kissing other people's property, meow!"
Lian stepped back, startled and red-faced. The dragon merely turned his head slowly, eyes of blue light focusing on Mika with an unreadable expression that somehow conveyed dry amusement.
His HUD blinked with a new notification.
[NEW QUEST: FORM A PARTY.][OPTIONAL OBJECTIVE: MANAGE JEALOUSY LEVELS.]
He let out what could have been a sigh—or just the venting of his energy core.This world was going to be very, very complicated.