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Chapter 1
Ren had learned something early in life.
If you stayed quiet long enough, people would forget you were there.
He sat near the back of the classroom, close to the window, where the sunlight softened just enough to make the world feel distant. His uniform fit poorly—too loose around the shoulders, too tight at the waist. Not fat enough to be mocked openly, not fit enough to be respected. Just weak. Forgettable.
The kind of person who never got picked first.
Or second.
Or at all.
At the front of the room, laughter burst out again.
"Bro, that was clean!"
Ren didn't look up. He didn't need to.
Marcus Hale stood near the teacher's desk, basketball spinning lazily on one finger as if gravity itself respected him more than others. Tall. Broad. Muscles earned from the gym and sharpened by the court. Confidence clung to him like a second skin.
Captain of the basketball team. Natural leader. The guy everyone trusted without knowing why.
When Marcus spoke, people listened.
When Marcus smiled, people followed.
"Relax," Marcus said, catching the ball without even glancing at it. "We're winning regionals this year."
A few students clapped. Someone whistled. Even the teacher allowed a small smile before clearing her throat.
"Enough. Take your seats."
Marcus obeyed easily, rolling the ball under his chair as if rules were optional suggestions meant for others.
Ren stared at his notebook.
Blank.
He had opened it with good intentions, like always. But somewhere between the noise, the jokes, and the constant reminder that he didn't belong anywhere important, his thoughts drifted.
To games.
Not flashy action games. Not competitive shooters.
Survival games.
Games where the world didn't care about you.
Where strength mattered, yes—but preparation mattered more. Where players who rushed died first, and those who observed lived longer.
Ren liked those games because they were honest.
No favoritism. No popularity.
Just rules.
A sudden vibration ran through the room.
Ren frowned.
At first, it felt like a heavy truck passing nearby. The desks trembled slightly. Pens rolled. Someone laughed nervously.
"What was that?" a girl asked.
Before the teacher could answer, the lights flickered.
Once.
Twice.
Then everything went dark.
Gasps filled the classroom.
"Hey, my phone—!"
"It's not turning on!"
Ren felt it then.
Not fear.
Pressure.
The air thickened, pressing down on his chest, his thoughts slowing as if submerged underwater. A faint ringing echoed in his ears, sharp enough to make him wince.
The windows began to glow.
Not white.
Green.
A translucent, unnatural green—like a digital overlay forced onto reality. Thin lines traced across the glass, forming sharp angles and grids, too precise to be natural.
Someone screamed.
Marcus stood up so fast his chair fell backward. "What the hell is that?"
The green light spread.
Walls. Ceiling. Floor.
It wasn't coming from anywhere.
It was everywhere.
Ren's heartbeat thundered in his ears.
This wasn't a power outage.
This wasn't an earthquake.
The pressure intensified.
Then—
Everything stopped.
Sound vanished.
The laughter, the screams, the ringing in Ren's ears—all of it cut off instantly, like someone had muted the world.
Marcus was frozen mid-step, mouth open.
A girl's scream hung silently in the air, her face twisted in terror.
Ren tried to move.
He couldn't.
A faint green shape flickered in front of his eyes for less than a second—too incomplete to read, too fast to understand.
A glitch.
Then the world shattered.
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Ren slammed into the ground.
Pain exploded through his shoulder, knocking the breath from his lungs. He gasped, coughing as dirt filled his mouth and scraped his palms.
He rolled onto his back, staring upward.
The sky was wrong.
Too dark. Too wide. Clouds drifted slowly overhead, tinged with a sickly green glow. Strange stars—if they were stars—hung motionless in unfamiliar patterns.
"Where… are we…?"
Voices erupted around him.
"This isn't the school!"
"Is this a prank?!"
"I want to go home!"
Ren pushed himself up, ignoring the burning pain in his shoulder.
They were standing in an open field surrounded by ruined structures—half-collapsed buildings, cracked roads swallowed by weeds, rusted streetlights leaning at unnatural angles.
It looked like a city.
A modern city.
But broken. Forgotten. Primitive in its decay.
Civilization had been here.
And then it hadn't.
Panic spread fast.
Students scrambled, some crying, some shouting, some frozen in shock. No teachers. No authority. No instructions.
Marcus was already standing.
Of course he was.
He scanned the area quickly, jaw clenched, instincts kicking in. "Everyone calm down!" he shouted. "Don't scatter. Stay together!"
People listened.
They always did.
Ren stayed near the edge of the forming group, unnoticed as usual.
Then Marcus froze.
His eyes narrowed, focused on something Ren couldn't see.
"What… is this?" Marcus muttered.
A faint green glow reflected in his pupils.
Ren's stomach tightened.
Marcus raised his hand slowly, fingers brushing through empty air. His expression shifted—from confusion to realization.
Then he smiled.
Small. Confident.
"Okay," Marcus said quietly. "I get it."
"What do you see?" someone asked urgently.
Marcus hesitated, then straightened. "Looks like… stats. Information. Like a game interface."
Murmurs rippled through the group.
"A game?"
"No way…"
Ren's heart pounded.
He stared straight ahead.
Nothing.
No green window.
No floating text.
Just ruined buildings and an unfamiliar sky.
Why can't I see it?
A sharp, shrill sound cut through the air.
High-pitched. Grating.
Not human.
Everyone froze.
From between the broken buildings ahead, a small hunched figure stepped into view.
Green skin.
Long pointed ears.
Jagged teeth pulled into a crooked grin.
It held a crude blade made from rusted metal and bone.
A goblin.
It hissed, eyes locking onto the students.
Then it charged.
Someone screamed.
Marcus grabbed a broken pipe from the ground without hesitation. "Get back!" he shouted, stepping forward.
The goblin leapt.
The pipe swung.
Metal struck flesh.
Blood sprayed across the dirt.
The goblin shrieked—not dying, not weak. Just furious.
It slashed wildly, the blade cutting deep into a student's leg.
Blood poured out.
The scream that followed was raw and endless.
Ren stood frozen as the truth slammed into him.
This wasn't a game.
There was no pause.
No reset.
And whatever rules governed this world—
They didn't care who was strong back on Earth.
They didn't care who was weak either.
They only cared about survival.
And Ren still couldn't see the interface.
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