Orion's birthday started the same way every other day in his life did - disappointing.
The alarm on his cracked phone screamed at 7:30 a.m. He smacked it until it shut up, then groaned and rolled out of bed like a corpse refusing to stay buried.
Cold air bit his skin as he shuffled to the bathroom and splashed water on his face. He blinked at his reflection.
Same tragic sight as always.
Average height. Slender build that made gym class feel like a public execution. Messy hair that couldn't decide if it wanted to be golden or black - streaks of both clashed together like his genetics were in an identity crisis.
Dark eyes stared back at him, half-lidded and perpetually unimpressed, carrying the energy of someone who'd already given up on Mondays, life, and the concept of effort.
"Congrats," he muttered to himself. "Eighteen. Officially an adult. Which means... what? Still broke, still a virgin, but hey, I can now go to jail like a grown-up. Living the dream."
He rubbed his face and sighed. Another year, another level of mediocrity unlocked.
Throwing on his uniform, he grabbed a half-burnt piece of toast and stepped out into the grey morning. Same streets. Same cracked sidewalk. Same faint smell of disappointment in the air.
By the time he reached school, he'd already gone through the motions enough to forget it was even his birthday.
-
Orion's days followed a sacred, unbroken cycle: school, webnovels, sleep, repeat.
Friends? None that mattered, just classmates who sometimes remembered his name.
Enemies, though? He had one of those..
That role was proudly filled by Mason, a walking ego in human form. Ever since the "Great Lunch Tray Incident" - a tragic accident involving a full tray of spaghetti and gravity- Mason had declared eternal war.
So, when Orion heard that nasal, smug voice call out after class, "Hey, Orion!" he already regretted being born.
He didn't even turn around. "If I ignore him, maybe he'll vanish like my will to live," he muttered.
Spoiler: Mason did not disappear.
The guy strutted up with his pack of discount hyenas, hair slicked back like he'd dunked it in motor oil. "Not gonna say hi to your old buddy?"
"Oh, my bad," Orion deadpanned, flipping him off. "Hi."
The lackeys cackled. Mason didn't.
The punch came fast, burying itself in Orion's gut. Air whooshed out of him as he doubled over. Routine. Mason got his power trip, his crew got their laughs, and Orion got new bruises.
"Classic," Orion wheezed. "Really completing the high school cliché as always."
Still, he always swung back. Not because he thought he could win, God no. But if he was about to get beaten up anyway, he might as well try to get in a hit of his own.
His fist grazed Mason's jaw, which earned him nothing but amusement from the larger youth who played sports. His crew laughed harder. Then they thrashed him around until they got bored.
Slumped on the ground outside the school gates, Orion eventually got up and limped home. His body aching, his hoodie stained, and the sun already dipping low.
"Happy birthday to me," he muttered. "Celebrated by getting my ass kicked. Lovely."
Home was no better. Silence. Parents deceased. Older brothers, off doing their own thing. No cake, no presents. Just Orion, his hoodie, and sore ribs.
He crashed into bed, napping until hunger dragged him back up.
"You know what? I'm going to order a pizza. That's going to be my cake today."
Adulthood meant independence, and independence meant choosing to drown in greasy cheese.
While waiting, he did what he always did: drowned himself in webnovels. Losers turning into legends, nobodies handed second chances. He wasn't a main character, but it was nice to pretend.
The doorbell rang.
"Pizza salvation," Orion muttered, dragging himself up.
Nobody stood at the door. Just a box, steaming in the night air. Weird, but fine. If anything, he preferred the contactless delivery, no pressure to leave a big tip.
He bent to grab it, then froze.
Hovering above the box was an eyeball.
Not a picture. Not a trick of light. A real, floating eyeball. Veins spider-webbed across the white, a blood-red iris staring at him, pupil widening as it locked on.
"What the fu-?!"
The pizza slipped from his hands, splattering across the porch. Orion didn't care. His brain screamed: slam the door, run, pretend this never happened.
But before he could, the eyeball shot forward.
Straight into his face.
"ARGHHHH!"
Blinding light detonated in his vision, like a flashbang set off inside his skull. His world went white, then seared red, pain ripping through his veins like liquid fire laced with acid.
Orion screamed, clawing at his face as if he could rip the invading eye back out. His nails scraped skin, but there was nothing to grab. Nothing to fight.
It was too late.
Something had already burrowed inside him.
And in that instant, the Orion who was addicted to webnovels and coasted through life had died.
What rose in his place was someone else entirely.
His life would never be the same from this moment on...