The desk felt solid against my cheek, but in that moment, nothing had ever felt so comfortable. My breathing slowed, syncing up with Mr. Harrison's droning history lesson. He was rambling on about some treaty signed ages ago. His voice sort of went up and down, sounding exactly like the background noise teenagers can't help but ignore. Treaties, kings, dead empires—none of it mattered to me. My whole universe was the cool surface of my desk and the heavy pull of my eyelids.
The classroom buzzed with typical Tuesday sounds. Pens scratched quietly against paper—those belonged to the kids who cared. Someone coughed now and then, chairs shifted as people got bored, and the air conditioner gave its usual low, useless hum. I was floating in that perfect haze, not quite awake, not fully out. If anything, I was paying for last night, sacrificing consciousness after burning hours on video games. I'd never felt so tired.
I moved my head, searched out a less warm spot on the desk. My eyes blinked open for a second—caught the back of the girl in front of me, glimpsed the messy handwriting on the whiteboard—and then sank shut again. I just wanted to stay here. I hoped the bell wouldn't ring. I wanted to remain in this boring, peaceful bubble forever.
And then, everything shifted.
At first, I thought I must be dreaming. Light started bleeding through my eyelids—a weird neon blue, not sunlight or fluorescent glare. It pulsed, and tingling static crawled up from the soles of my sneakers to settle in my stomach.
I blinked, squinting against the brightness. I expected Mr. Harrison's disappointed stare, or someone poking me awake—but instead, I looked down, and the floor was gone.
A huge, glowing magic circle was shining right through the tile beneath my desk.
It was gorgeous and terrifying. Thin, glowing lines burned my eyes, and symbols I'd never seen spun like gears, clicking into place as the light grew stronger.
Someone screamed, "What is that?"
I snapped upright. My heart beat like it was trying to punch out of my chest. No more sleepiness—just raw adrenaline. Around me, students scrambled for safety. The girl in front of me stood so fast her chair clattered over. Mr. Harrison froze mid-sentence, staring down at the floor, chalk poised but forgotten as his face drained pale.
The circle grew. It ignored desks and walls, spreading out until it covered every inch of the room. The blue glow began to hum, vibrating right through my teeth. It ramped up, drowning all other noise.
"Stay back! Get away from it!" Mr. Harrison yelled. Like we had anywhere to go. The spell engulfed all of us, every single one trapped inside a glowing ring.
The light rose, thick as mist. I reached out—my skin looked blue and almost see-through. The kid next to me, Kevin, clawed for his desk, but his hand phased right through the wood. He yelped, sounding muffled, like underwater.
The brightness went from intense to unbearable. It felt like someone had turned on a thousand suns. The classroom walls, posters, clock—they all vanished into blinding white. I couldn't see anyone anymore. Just me, floating in the void.
"What the fuck," I said, not loud enough to matter.
The roar ended so suddenly it was like someone popped the universe's sound bubble. Silence pressed in, thick and physical. I squeezed my eyes shut, head spinning. The air shifted—a damp, pine-scented coolness replaced the stale classroom breeze.
I blinked, half expecting more craziness.
But I wasn't in class. Or school. Or anywhere I recognized.
I stood in a forest. Trees stretched overhead, ancient and dense, their branches lattice-worked so only scraps of sunlight poked through. The ground was thick with moss and leaves. Ferns grew waist-high, swaying in a breeze so clean it almost hurt to breathe.
I looked myself over—the same school uniform, sneakers. I scanned the area, hoping for Kevin or Mr. Harrison or really anyone.
Nobody. No desks. No whiteboard. Just endless green.
I took a long breath. It was so fresh, my chest stung. Then I grinned—big, stupid, uncontrollable. I felt giddy, not scared or lost. Instead, joy bubbled up and out.
"Yes!" I hollered, my voice echoing through the trees. "Finally!"
I couldn't help but laugh, spinning around, taking in the birds flashing color overhead and the towering trees everywhere. I'd finally broken out. My old life was a loop: wake, school, bored teachers, homework, video games, sleep—gray and unchanging.
But here? This was an Isekai, just like the stories I'd devoured, the shows I'd binged. I'd been transported, dropped in a world of magic and monsters. No more tests, no more bland Tuesdays.
"I'm finally done with that boring life!" I shouted. If something heard me, so what? I felt unstoppable. I was the protagonist now—wasn't that what everyone wants?
As if on cue, a transparent box flickered into existence, floating before my face, just like a game's HUD.
I blinked, thinking maybe I was hallucinating from that crazy light, but the box stuck, following my gaze. Its background was a dark grey, the text glowing bright white.
[ Hacks ]
"Hacks?" I murmured, confused.
Most protagonists in Isekai get something like "Heroic System" or "Sage's Wisdom." Me? I got "Hacks." I poked at the menu, and more options appeared.
[ Aimbot – 100M ]
Next Upgrade – 500 points
"'Aimbot?'" I read, and then felt a sly grin creep onto my face. I absolutely knew what an aimbot was. Years spent in shooters, countless rage-inducing matches against cheaters. I remember that kill-cam feeling—the crosshair snapping to a head with inhuman speed.
In gaming, an aimbot is the ultimate cheat. Misses don't exist. Anything in range, already dead. And I had a hundred-meter radius, right off the bat.
"Aimbot in real life?" I muttered. "Oh, this is gonna be broken."
I looked around—no gun, no bow, not even a stick. But the system just needs a projectile. I knelt and scooped up stones. Smooth, dense, palm-sized. I gathered a pocketful until my pants sagged.
For the first time ever, I felt real confidence—not the fake kind I wore around school. Here, I had a cheat code. Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I trekked deeper into the woods.
The forest felt dangerous beneath all the beauty. Every little rustle made my stomach jump. I clambered over roots, ducked through ferns, venturing in for maybe ten minutes. Things got weirder—a patch of flowers glowed, vines pulsed like they had heartbeats.
That's when I heard it: high-pitched chattering, then a wet tearing sound.
I dropped low, hiding behind an iron-hard tree. Peeking around, holding my breath, I witnessed three creatures in a sunlit clearing about thirty yards away.
Four feet tall. Sickly green skin. Long, pointed ears. Hooked noses. Ragged leather loincloths. Goblins.
They clustered around a carcass—rabbit-like, but huge, fur shimmering grey, and a single ivory horn on its head. Horned rabbit, real fantasy stuff.
The goblins tore into the rabbit with claws and teeth, snarling and fighting over scraps.
Seeing them on a screen is nothing like seeing them here. The smell hit hard—wet dog, sour sweat, blood, metallic and thick. They looked deadly. Like if they saw me, I'd be toast.
Fear kicked in; hands shook. This wasn't a game—no respawn. Sweat prickled on my brow.
But excitement simmered just beneath. This was exactly what I wanted. This was adventure.
I grabbed a stone, nerves buzzing.
"Okay," I whispered. "Let's see if this works."
Focusing on the middle goblin, a red diamond appeared over its head in my vision. I didn't aim—it just snapped to target, like a magnet. My arm felt guided by an invisible force.
I stepped out from cover—bold, reckless.
They missed me at first, busy tearing at rabbit meat.
I cocked my arm back and threw, hard.
My hand moved faster than I thought possible. The rock speared through the air—no arc, no wobble.
THWACK.
A disgusting sound—the stone punched into the goblin's temple, lodging deep. Its head jerked, eyes rolled, and it slumped, dead. It never saw me coming.
Bullseye. All I felt was a cold thrill—it worked.
The other goblins froze. Silence hung, except for the thud of the first body. They searched for the attacker, shrieked, panicked. But the boy in school uniform stood unnoticed.
By the time they spotted me, another stone was already in my hand.
The second diamond locked in. This goblin was bigger, scar across its chest. It snarled, grabbed for a rusty knife.
No chance. I flicked my wrist, sending a stone flying.
Crack! Dead center in the forehead. Its head snapped back, legs collapsed. It fell among the ferns.
Two down.
The smallest goblin panicked, shrieked, and charged at me, crawling fast, teeth and claws aiming for my throat.
Fear tried to bubble back—but the system was faster.
Stone three. Red diamond locked. I threw.
Direct hit—the stone punched into its eye socket, stopped it cold. It flipped mid-leap, crashed against a tree, and dropped. A quick twitch, then nothing.
Silence.
I stood, chest pounding, hand raised. The air stank of goblins and coppery blood. I looked at the bodies—three gone, just like that. I'd never hurt anyone before. Now, I'd killed.
But I felt powerful. Like I finally belonged.
Then, another box appeared.
[ 3 points received. ]
Small, unimpressive font.
"Three points?" I said, annoyed. "Seriously, only three?"
Quick glance at the upgrade cost—five hundred points for a better aimbot. That meant hundreds more kills for a single upgrade.
"You've gotta be kidding," I grumbled, kicking a mushroom, sending purple spores everywhere. "Three points for risking my neck? That's stingy."
I sighed, shaking my head. I'd hoped to hit level ninety-nine in a day, but it looked like the Hacks system wasn't making it easy, even with the cheat powers.
I looked at the horned rabbit—shimmering fur ruined, blood everywhere. I felt a pang of pity, but hunger came first. I hadn't eaten since yesterday's lunch.
Still, no clue how to dress a rabbit—or build a fire. Not yet.
I left the clearing. Three points were a start, but nowhere near enough. If I wanted to survive, to become powerful, I needed way more. I wanted to see what the Hacks menu held deeper down.
I checked my pockets—a dozen stones left. It wasn't much, but with aimbot, that meant twelve more kills.
Looking deeper into the forest, trees thickened, shadows grew. I'd only scratched the surface. Goblins wouldn't be the only thing out there—maybe orcs, dragons, dark knights, who knew? The world felt enormous.
I adjusted my collar, started walking. My steps crunching leaves broke the silence. I was no longer the bored classroom kid—I was a hunter.
Heading into the deeper woods, eyes searching for the next red diamond, I realized something simple: If points were stingy, then I'd just have to grind harder. If there's one thing I'm good at, it's grinding for XP.