The forest was dense and terrifying to behold. It was a place where no ordinary soul dared to tread; only those gifted with superpowers could enter this realm. Deep in the heart of these woods lay a body, covered in deep cuts, with blood flowing freely from his wounds.
Suddenly, his eyes snapped open.
"Where am I?" he whispered, confused. "I was sleeping peacefully at home. How did I end up in this jungle? And why am I in so much pain?"
He pressed a hand against his stomach, where the blood was gushing out.
"How did I get these injuries?" he gasped. "It feels as though I have been brutally tortured."
He looked around frantically, his eyes widening in sheer shock. A scream tore from his throat.
"How did I get into this jungle, and why am I so badly injured?"
He couldn't comprehend what was happening. He desperately hoped it was just a terrifying nightmare. He tried to force himself back to sleep, wishing to wake up in his bed, but everything felt undeniably real.
"What is happening?" he panicked. "What kind of mess have I fallen into?"
Suddenly, a mechanical sound chimed in his ears. A translucent screen materialized before his eyes, flashing the words:
[Processing...]
[You have awakened the System.]
Fear gripped his heart. I'm terrified, he thought. I even tried slapping myself to wake up, but nothing worked.
[Hello, Master.]
"Who are you?" he asked, his voice trembling with fear. "What do you want from me?"
[I am the System. I am here to assist you. You have passed away in your previous world; your soul has now inhabited this body.]
The color drained from his face, leaving him pale with shock.
"How... how is that possible?" he stammered. "I was just sleeping in my room!"
[Master, I will provide answers later. First, I must repair your vessel. You are in critical condition and on the verge of death.]
[Healing process initiated...]
Miraculously, his body began to mend itself. The torn flesh knit back together, and the profuse bleeding from his stomach ceased instantly. He watched in bewildered awe.
This is magic, he thought, unable to believe his eyes. How is this even possible?
"Fine, the pain has vanished," he said, standing up.
"Now tell me—who are you, and what is your true purpose?"
[I have told you this before. I am the System. I am here to assist you.]
"Assistance for free?" He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "You definitely want something from me. A wise man once said that nothing in this world is truly free; everything comes with a price."
[Master, is that truly what you think? What could you possibly possess that I would covet. Master You were broken and dying; I restored you. Without my intervention, you would perish in this unforgiving world within moments.]
"Very well," he sighed, conceding defeat.
"For now, I shall entrust my fate to you. But let us dispense with the trivialities and address the most pressing question: Where exactly am I? Into what strange World have I been cast?"
[Master, you have awakened in a world governed by magic]
His face contorted with pure astonishment. "What? Truly? Am I in a fantasy world... akin to the ones depicted in novels and films"
[Precisely, Master]
"Then... can you display my status"
[STATUS WINDOW]
[ Name: Lysander ]
[ Race: Human]
[ Age: 20]
[ Class: Civilian (Grade F-)]
[ Bloodline: None]
[Magic Affinity: None]
[Level: 1 (Exp: 0/100)]
[Attributes]
[Strength: 3]
[Agility: 4]
[Intelligence: 9]
[Vitality: 5]
[Mana: 0] (Locked)]
[Skills: None]
[Unique Trait:Demon God System]
Lysander stared at the dismal numbers floating before him, his face twisting into a grimace of utter disdain. He looked as though he had been handed a broken toy instead of a legendary weapon. The thrill of reincarnation momentarily withered, replaced by the cold, hard truth of his incompetence.
"So weak?" he scoffed, his voice dripping with incredulity. "Is this truly the extent of my power? It is pathetic."
[Master, do not be mistaken. These attributes represent the current limitations of the vessel you have possessed. This body was frail and untrained before your arrival]
Lysander clenched his fists, feeling the weakness in his muscles. He took a deep, steadying breath, his eyes burning with a newfound resolve. He refused to remain a bottom-feeder in this dangerous new world
"Fine," he declared, his voice firm. "If this frailty is merely my starting point, then I shall accept it. But I have no intention of remaining in this wretched state. Tell me, System—is there a method to temper this vessel. How do I transcend these pathetic limitations?"
[Affirmative, Master. The potential of this body is not fixed; it can be forged into a weapon of war. To survive in this perilous domain, you must evolve.]
A sudden chime echoed in his mind.
[Initiating the path to power...]
[Ding!]
[DAILY QUEST: THE AWAKENING]
[Objective: Forge the foundation of a warrior.
Tasks]
[100 Push-ups]
[100 Sit-ups]
[100 Squats]
[Time Limit: 24 Hours]
[Penalty for Failure: DEATH]
[Reward: Status Recovery + Mystery Box]
Lysander read the screen, his jaw tightening.
"Death" he whispered, a cold sweat forming on his brow. "You certainly don't believe in gentle encouragement, do you"
Lysander suddenly paused, his gaze drifting away from the floating screen. A frown etched deep lines onto his forehead as a realization struck him—a gaping void where knowledge should be.
"Wait," he murmured, his voice laced with confusion and urgency. "We have overlooked a crucial detail. The memories... they are absent."
He tapped his temple frantically. "I inhabit this vessel, yet I am a stranger to its history. Who was this man Why was he discarded in this wilderness like garbage? System, you failed to grant me the past of this body."
[Master, the host's memories were fragmented due to the severe trauma of death. However, they can be retrieved.]
[Initiating Memory Assimilation.]
Before Lysander could finish his sentence, a searing pain shot through his skull. It felt as though a red-hot iron rod was being driven into his brain. He clutched his head, falling to his knees as a deluge of foreign images flooded his mind.
He did not see a humble village. Instead, he saw the towering, obsidian walls of a grand estate.
He saw the fluttering banners of an ancient and prestigious Noble House.
He felt the crushing weight of a powerful bloodline—a legacy he was born into, but failed to inherit.
He heard the cold, echoing whispers of "disgrace" and "waste." He possessed the blood of kings, yet his body held zero talent for magic or swordplay.
He saw the heavy iron gates slamming shut in his face. He had been stripped of his title, disowned by his kin, and cast out like a broken tool because he was too weak to bear their name.
But the most agonizing memory was not the visual of the closing gates-it was the final words that echoed from the shadows, cold and devoid of all love.
"Do not look back," the voice had hissed,
cutting deeper than any blade. "To us, you are already dead. Your birth was a stain upon our legacy-a mistake that we are finally correcting today. Go, and have the decency to perish where no one knows your name."
The memory faded, leaving only the bitter taste of rejection and a heart shattered into dust.
And finally, amidst the humiliation of his exile, he saw the cold, smiling face of the man who had murdered him