Chapter 1 – The White Expanse
The faint hum of a computer fan filled the cramped apartment room. Rain tapped lazily against the window, each droplet distorting the pale glow of the monitor. Kael's posture was slouched, his shoulders hunched forward, fingers dancing mechanically across the keyboard. His eyes were red, not from tears, but from hours—no, days—of staring at the screen.
In the real world, his body ached. In the game, he was untouchable.
Kael's gaze flicked to the corner of the screen—3:47 a.m. Again. He rubbed his eyes and took another sip from the lukewarm coffee by his side.
And then, without warning, it happened.
No sound, no sensation—just darkness. A deep, absolute black that swallowed him whole. It was as though his body had been erased, leaving only thought behind.
When the darkness cleared, Kael found himself standing barefoot in an endless, white expanse. The ground had no texture; the horizon curved away into infinity. And ahead, a figure approached—faceless, yet radiating presence, dressed in shifting light and shadow.
"Welcome, Kael," the voice echoed, deep yet warm, coming from everywhere at once.
Kael turned in a slow circle, trying to find the source. "...Who are you?"
"I am what your people might call a god," the figure replied, stepping closer. "But names are meaningless here. What matters is this—you have reached the end of your life in your previous world."
Kael's brow furrowed. "So I'm dead?"
"In the terms you understand—yes. But in truth, you have simply… moved beyond."
Kael crossed his arms. "And now what? Judgment? Heaven? Hell?"
The god chuckled softly. "Neither. I am offering you a choice. You may pass on into nothingness… or you may begin again. A life without the limitations you once knew. A world alive, dangerous, and yet… familiar to you."
Kael's eyes narrowed. "Familiar how?"
"You spent much of your life in games. In this new existence, the world itself will function with rules you might recognize—skills, abilities, growth. But it will not be a game. You will feel pain. You will bleed. And you can die."
Panels of light materialized around him, each bearing a single word: Strength. Magic. Dexterity. Endurance. Luck. Others shimmered briefly—Perception. Vitality. Charisma.
"You may choose one gift to carry with you," the god said. "It will be far beyond the ordinary, but not limitless."
Kael's gaze swept across the options until it rested on one: Luck.
"Luck?" he muttered. "That's not exactly a weapon."
"It is not a weapon… and yet, it can win wars," the god said. "It is the only attribute that can bend chance itself. In desperate moments, it can save you where all else fails. But luck is fickle."
Kael smirked. "Fickle's fine. I'll take it."
"Very well," the god said, his voice echoing with finality. "Your Luck shall be set to fifty—rare, but not unbreakable. Live well… and remember, fate can be bent, but never broken."
The white space dissolved into blinding light, and Kael fell.
Chapter 2 – Teeth and Claws
Kael awoke to the cool scent of damp earth. He was lying on a dirt path cutting through a dense forest, sunlight spearing through gaps in the leaves. Birds called overhead, and a faint breeze stirred the undergrowth.
He sat up, finding himself dressed in plain leather armor, a short sword at his hip. No HUD, no quest markers—just the faint hum of life around him.
"...Not a dream, huh?" he muttered.
Then came the scream.
It was faint, distant—but urgent. Kael bolted toward the sound, his boots pounding the dirt. Branches whipped against his arms as he pushed through the trees.
The forest opened into a clearing, and the scene before him snapped him into motion. Five villagers—two men, three women—were pressed against a fallen log, surrounded by massive, wolf-like beasts. Their fur was dark gray, their eyes glowing a sickly yellow.
One of the beasts lunged. Kael didn't think—he moved.
[Skill Activated: Pure Strike] – Mana Cost: 10
Steel met flesh. The first wolf went down with a sharp yelp, blood spraying into the grass. The others turned toward him, lips curling in snarls.
Kael ducked under a swipe, countered with a slash, and pivoted to drive his blade into another's side. His heart hammered, his breath coming fast. One by one, the wolves fell.
As the last collapsed, a faint chime echoed—not in his ears, but somewhere inside.
TP +8
TP: 8 / 100 – Level: 1
Kael blinked. "...Figures."
The eldest villager stepped forward, his voice shaking. "You… saved us. Please, come to our village. You must rest."
Kael nodded, wiping his blade clean before sheathing it. "Lead the way."
Chapter 3 – Berensford
The village sat nestled between rolling hills and a winding river. Modest wooden houses stood in neat rows, smoke curling from chimneys. Merchants called from stalls selling bread, cloth, and tools. Children darted between carts, their laughter carrying on the breeze.
Kael followed his escorts to a small inn. Behind the counter stood a young woman with auburn hair loosely tied back. A faint scar traced her left cheek to her jaw, but it didn't mar her beauty—it gave her face a quiet strength.
"Welcome," she said warmly. "I'm Lira. Rooms are five silver a night… but I hear you saved half our hunters. So, free of charge—for now."
Kael grinned. "I'll take it."
The next two days passed in a quiet rhythm. Kael hunted small game in the nearby woods, trading pelts for coin. Each time, that faint notification appeared: TP +1, TP +2—small, steady progress.
But one night, over ale by the inn's hearth, Kael overheard two traders speaking in hushed tones.
"Another disappearance near the northern marsh," one said.
"And the mist there… it's not natural."
Kael's curiosity stirred.
Chapter 4 – The Northern Marsh
The marsh was nothing like the gentle hills around Berensford. The air grew colder with each step, the ground soft and sucking at his boots. Pale mist curled over black water, coiling between twisted trees.
The further he went, the thicker the fog became, until even the path behind him was lost.
Then came the growl—low, guttural, from everywhere at once.
Shapes emerged from the mist—gaunt, gray-skinned creatures with limbs too long, their eyes glowing faint blue. Their movements were jerky, unnatural, as if pulled by invisible strings.
Kael drew his sword. The first lunged; he sidestepped, cutting deep into its side. Another came from behind—he spun, parried, struck.
TP +3
TP: 24 / 100 – Level: 1
His breath came ragged by the time the last fell. And still, the mist did not lift.
Then, through the fog, something moved—taller than the trees, its silhouette shifting like smoke.
For the first time since arriving, Kael felt truly watched.