Aaron's tiny apartment glows with the blue light of his computer screen. It's way past midnight, and he's deep into one of his marathon gaming sessions. Chips are scattered all around like battle debris, and empty soda cans stand proudly like miniature towers. His fingers fly across the keyboard as he takes on the final boss of "Vampire Dungeon Crawler", a sneaky mission where he has to defeat the Blood Emperor using nothing but stealth and a ridiculous modded weapon: a rusty enchanted dagger.
He lands a perfect hit.
Victory!
Aaron throws both arms up in celebration and shouts, "YES!" without leaving his chair. His headphones dangle from one ear, bouncing with him as he does a half-seated dance. The chair groans with every wild wiggle. Overwhelmed with joy, he grabs for his soda can, but misses.
His elbow slams into the table.
The soda can launches into the air like a rocket…
...and crashes perfectly into his old, overloaded power strip.
ZAP!
Sparks shoot out. The room goes pitch black.
Then, chaos:
His chair tips backward. His legs fly up. The mouse remains clenched in his hand like a sacred artifact as he land behind the desk. Cables twist around him. Chips crunch beneath him. And all that's left is silence… and maybe a faint smell of burning electronics.
"Where... am I?"
Aaron groaned as he sat up, rubbing the dull ache in his forehead. The air around him felt damp and dusty. He blinked, trying to make sense of what he saw.
He was lying on a hard wooden floor inside a small, rundown hut. The roof above was made of old, fraying straw, and it wasn't doing a great job. Sunlight leaked in through a big hole in the thatch, forming weak golden patches on the floor. Rainwater dripped slowly from the edges, landing near his feet with quiet splashes.
Aaron glanced around. The walls were made of packed mud, cracked in places, with bits of straw poking out. It was nothing like his apartment back home. No desk. No monitor. No snacks.
Then he looked at his hands, and froze.
They were smaller. Slimmer. Paler. Not his hands. He touched his face, his arms, his chest. Everything felt… different.
He scrambled to his feet and caught sight of a reflection in a puddle near the door. What stared back at him was a teenage boy, sixteen at most, with messy black hair, hollow cheeks, and wide, panicked eyes.
"What the hell is going on?"
Just as he was trying to understand this bizarre new body, his gaze dropped to the floor near where he'd woken up.
Aaron stumbled backward, his eyes locked on the strange circle of dried blood. It stretched across the floor like something out of a dark ritual. The symbols lining its edge twisted in odd, unsettling ways, some looked like claws, others like cracked spider webs. Everything about it whispered danger.
His breathing grew shallow. The room felt colder, heavier. His heart pounded so loudly he could almost hear it echo off the muddy walls.
Then a sharp pain stabbed through his skull.
Aaron gripped his head and dropped to his knees. It felt like his brain had been plugged into a storm. Images began flashing in his mind, quick, chaotic, and overwhelming.
Aaron lay flat on the cold wooden floor, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He gasped for air like a man pulled from deep water. The storm of memories had hit him like a hammer to the mind, too much, too fast. His head throbbed, his vision spun, and for a moment it felt like he might black out completely.
But the pain slowly faded. He blinked hard and sat up, breathing in short, shaky bursts.
The memories weren't just vague impressions, they were sharp and detailed. Images, emotions, and knowledge poured into him like someone else's life playing on fast-forward. They weren't his…
Yet somehow, they were.
He now knew the truth:
This body had belonged to someone else.
A boy named Aaron.
Yes, the same name.
It was eerie, like fate had hand-picked it.
The boy had lived a hard life. His parents were killed during the last monster tide, a massive attack where creatures from beyond the wall had ravaged towns and villages. He'd been just a child when it happened, left alone in a crumbling world. No home. No protection. Only pain and survival.
Aaron slowly pieced together more of the memories that now lived inside him. The boy whose body he now inhabited hadn't just struggled to survive, he had desperately yearned for power.
Life in this world was brutal. Monsters roamed freely, and ordinary people lived in fear. Only those who awakened special abilities during the Awakening Ceremony could protect themselves, rise in status, or earn real freedom.
Everyone talked about awakening like it was a miracle. Those who succeeded gained incredible powers, some controlled fire, some bent shadows, others could summon beasts or manipulate time. It was the only way to climb out of the mud and into the light. It was the dream of every child…especially poor orphans like him.
But awakening came at a price. And it wasn't just spiritual, it was financial.
Aaron remembered it clearly:
The ceremony cost two gold coins.
That was an impossible amount for someone like him.
In this world's currency:
1 gold coin = 100 silver coins
1 silver coin = 100 copper coins
So 2 gold coins = 20,000 copper coins.
For a boy who could barely afford food, that cost was like a mountain he couldn't climb.
Others born into noble families or wealthy clans could afford awakening with ease. But Aaron? He had lived in the shadows of their power, watching from the sidelines as they grew stronger, while he remained weak.
And it was in those painful memories that his thirst for strength began.
Not just to survive… but to change everything.
To survive, Aaron worked at a dusty old pawn shop tucked between narrow alleyways and cracked stone walls. His job was simple: run errands, carry deliveries, and clean whatever needed scrubbing. For all that, he earned just 50 copper coins a month, barely enough to afford basic food.
But Aaron didn't complain.
Because deep down, he wasn't just working for money,
He was chasing a dream.
A dream of awakening. A dream of power.