"Hey, you! Get that pile of bricks over here right now!"
A loud shout rang out, carrying with an overbearing tone, without the slightest concern for the other person's expression.
"Yes, understood, boss," a voice replied, without a hint of resistance.
"Grab a few more bags of cement, too!"
"Got it."
"And once you're done, remember to move the rest of those materials over to the storage. Hurry it up, or someone else will replace you!"
"Understood..."
***
Break time had come.
Jawed slumped down beneath a makeshift shack at the construction site, letting out a faint sigh.
His job was to carry all kinds of materials and assist with the construction work.
Why did he choose this job? Simply because he just didn't have the knowledge for anything easier.
In his previous life, he grew up in an orphanage, never even had the chance to go to school.
Now, the only thing he had was the bit of strength he had built up through years of struggling to survive, so he had no choice but to take a job that relied purely on physical labor.
The problem was, this world already had advanced machines capable of doing most manual tasks, so jobs like this were rare, and the pay was miserable.
Perhaps, the only reason such jobs still existed was so that people with little education, people at the very bottom like him, could at least continue to survive.
"Hey, rookie, how's it going?"
A voice called out. A coworker walked over, two cold drinks in hand.
"Here, let off some steam."
"Thanks," Jawed replied, catching the can tossed to him. The two of them sat under the shelter, staring blankly off into the distance.
"Gulp, gulp.... ahhh, now this is life!"
Letting out a satisfied sigh, the colleague turned to him and asked:
"By the way, you're not overworked, right? That boss guy really is a jerk, huh? For over a month now he's been bossing you around just because you're new. You must be sick of this job already, right?"
At those words, Jawed simply smiled faintly, replying softly:
"I'm fine, senior. Honestly, this is nothing for me. As for this job, as long as it lets me earn enough to get by, that's already more than enough."
"Huh? That's enough for you? Man, I'm sick to death of this job. If I ever got the chance to change my life, I'd drop it in a heartbeat and chase after my dream career. Hey, do you know what my dream job is?"
"What is it?" Jawed asked casually, clearly uninterested.
In reply, the colleague burst out laughing, pointing toward a massive hologram screen mounted on a steel pillar in the distance.
On the screen at that moment, was broadcasting live the roaring excitement of a racetrack, where a grand motorcycle tournament had just entered its most intense stage.
"My dream job, obviously, is to become a motorcycle racer, own my own Mecha human, fly like the wind on the track, and make a fortune," he said.
Jawed remained silent, not the least bit surprised.
Naturally so, after all, in this world, motorcycle racing was the most developed field, surpassing the very definition of a sport. It had become a way of life, the very truth of the world.
Especially, the vehicles blazing across the racetrack weren't ordinary motorcycles, but fantastical beings known as Mecha humans.
Normally, Mecha Humans looked like people. But once on the track, they could transform into racing motorcycles.
Becoming a racer also meant becoming the owner of a Mecha Human. Owning motorcycles that could transform into handsome men or beautiful girls, who wouldn't want that?
In short, the Quadrant Realm was every racer's dream. And logically, for Jawed, upon arriving in this world, he should have been jumping with joy.
After all, back on Earth, he had been the number-one motorcycle racer in the world, the man who shattered countless records, collected endless trophies, and was even known by the title [Godslayer of the Racetrack]
Yet, when Jawed learned that this was a racing world, not a hint of excitement stirred inside him.
There was only a faint sigh, weary and disinterested.
"Hey, don't you think the same?" the coworker's voice cut through his thoughts again.
"Huh?" Jawed replied blankly.
"I mean, becoming a racer is amazing, right? Racers are admired by everyone, live in luxury, get surrounded by girls. Look, you see the guy racing on that screen? His face is printed right on the drink I'm holding! Racing really is a noble profession, a dream job, isn't it?"
Hearing that, Jawed said nothing, but inwardly let out a scornful chuckle.
Noble? Worth dreaming of? In this motorcycle racing industry?
A place filled with glory-hungry racers, who would resort to the filthiest, most despicable tricks just to snatch the championship trophy.
Where newcomers had to cling to racing clubs just to survive, oppressed by seniors, and had to claw for scraps of resources with their own sweat and blood.
Where every time a racing tournament was held, underground gambling ran rampant, sometimes even openly.
And where companies and financial conglomerates stood behind the scenes, manipulating every race down to the tiniest detail, turning each competition into a scripted play in order to profit from such bets.
Were those things supposed to be noble and worth dreaming of?!
On his path to becoming the top racer, Jawed had witnessed, even experienced those very filth-ridden things.
To him, the racing world was nothing but a graveyard of corruption and injustice, a money-printing machine for the wealthy.
It had been that way in his previous life, and this life was unlikely to be any different. Because, no matter how the world may change, human greed would always remain.
Seeing that Jawed showed no enthusiasm at all toward his words, the man's face fell.
At that very moment, the hoarse voice of the boss rang out:
"Hey, break time's over! Get back to work, move it, or I'll dock your pay!"
Hearing that nasty shout, the coworker stopped paying attention to Jawed, hurriedly running off while calling back:
"Come on, hurry, or he'll yell at you again!"
Jawed still said nothing. He quietly stood up, and instead of hurrying after, lifted his gaze toward the blue sky.
Inside him still swirled the messy thoughts he'd been carrying since the moment he transmigrated.
Then, letting out a breath, he clenched his fist and made his decision.
In his previous life, he had endured all the filth and corruption of the racing world. To the point where the love and burning passion he once held for this sport had long since vanished.
In this life, he chose to live a peaceful life, without smoke and fire, without the roar of racing engines.
Even if it meant living poor, he no longer wanted anything to do with the racetrack.
Jawed told himself that. He turned, looked toward the construction site, toward his new life, and quietly walked forward.
But then, the very moment Jawed turned away, out of nowhere, dark clouds suddenly gathered, swallowing the sky behind him.
The once-clear sky, now had turned gloomy, oppressive, and suffocating.
Drip—
A raindrop suddenly fell onto the ground. And the very next second—
BOOM—!
A blazing bolt of lightning ripped across the sky, followed by a thunderclap that shook heaven and earth.
....