Ram Sharma walked down the crowded hospital corridor, the smell of antiseptic burning at the back of his throat. Every step echoed against the cold tiles, a reminder that life could be measured in lonely, hollow sound. At sixteen, he had grown used to this echo.
Savitri Sharma:"Ram… you're back so soon?"
Her voice was weak, almost swallowed by the sound of the oxygen machine beside her bed. Ram's mother lay pale under the thin blanket, her eyes flickering with the dim light of the monitor.
Ram Sharma:"I just came from school… I grabbed some food for you and Aarav."
Aarav Sharma, his younger brother, peeked from behind the doorway, holding a worn notebook like a shield. He was only ten, but his wide eyes reflected more worry than most adults carried.
Aarav Sharma:"Will mother be okay, Ram?"
Ram didn't answer. He had no answer. He couldn't fix this—not yet.
The monitor beeped softly. Red numbers climbed slowly, a heartbeat out of sync with the rest of the room. Ram's gaze flicked to Dr. Nandini Rao, who was scribbling notes at the foot of the bed.
Dr. Nandini Rao:"The mana decay is accelerating. If we don't find a solution soon… her time could be very short."
Ram clenched his fists. His father had died ten years ago, walking into a dungeon that swallowed him whole, leaving nothing but rumors and a tarnished memory. Now the system of life was cruel enough to threaten the last person who kept their family together.
He glanced at the television in the corner, where a news broadcast blared in the background.
"S-rank hunter raid successful! Elite guilds celebrate victory…"
The camera panned over a massive glowing gate, dwarfed by towering mountains. Ram's jaw tightened. That could have been his father… if things had been different.
By the afternoon, Ram found himself walking through the narrow lanes of the city, weaving past street vendors and dusty roads, towards the outskirts where the guilds sometimes sent low-rank porters. He didn't want to be there, but the hospital bills didn't wait for feelings.
Rakesh Verma:"You're late, Sharma. Hurry up or the team leaves without you."
Ram nodded and fell in behind a group of porters, each carrying crates of supplies to a nearby dungeon entrance. None of them looked at him. That was the way of the world—weaklings were invisible until they were useful.
The gate loomed ahead. A jagged crack in the sky, glowing faintly orange against the dull gray of the city. Ram's heart beat faster, not out of fear, but a strange, inexplicable pull.
No one noticed him when a small tremor ran through the ground. Small debris fell, and one of the porters cursed, looking around in panic.
Suresh Pal:"Move! Don't dawdle! Nobody cares if you die out here."
Ram swallowed the lump in his throat and stepped forward. His body felt alive, electric, almost aware. Something deep inside him thrummed in response to the gate—something he had never felt before.
And then it happened.
The ground beneath his feet cracked. The air seemed to fold, and time narrowed to a pinpoint. Ram fell into darkness, and the sounds of the city, the porters, the chaos—all of it faded.
And then, in the silence, a voice spoke.
[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION]
Trial Accepted
Difficulty: Fatal
Reward: Survival
Ram's eyes snapped open. No one else was there. Only him, the darkness, and a whisper that carried both promise and terror.
A screen appeared, glowing faintly, impossible yet undeniable. Lines of text scrolled, listing stats, quests, and something called "Candidate Status."
Ram didn't know what it was, but he understood one thing instantly:
This was not help.This was judgment.
Ram stands alone, the System glowing before him. He is about to take his first step into a world that does not forgive, does not wait, and does not care.