My new name glared at me from the menu: Lachlan Malcum.
I kept scrolling, the red glow of the interface casting harsh shadows across the empty room.
Attribute Points: 20
Strength – Physical ability: how much force you can put behind a strike, how much punishment your body can endure. Intelligence – Mental acuity: how well you think, plan, and manipulate the world around you. Wisdom – Magical insight, judgment, and understanding beyond ordinary senses. Money – Your starting wealth, the tools and leverage you bring into this life.
A blinking note warned me in cold, unfeeling text:"Please note: any selection you choose will directly affect your future. Choose wisely."
Strength was tempting. Pure muscle. Power. A body that could shrug off blows, crush foes. But… I didn't want to be just a tank of brawn. Full muscle, empty head—that was a trap waiting to happen.
I wanted control. I wanted options. I wanted to survive, think, outmaneuver.
I clicked.
Intelligence.
Twenty points flowed in, filling my mind with subtle, sharp awareness. A tingling hum ran along my thoughts. Not a physical powerhouse—yet—but a mind that could turn any situation to my advantage.
"…This should do," I muttered.
But the warning echoed in the silence. Every choice mattered here. Every decision could make the difference between life and death—or death multiplied across the multiverse.
And I didn't plan on being anyone's cannon fodder.
Initializing… please stand by.
Progress: 20%
A sharp pain lanced through my neck, icy fingers closing around my throat. Damn… this was painful. I clawed at it, swung my legs, twisted—trying to fight—but my body didn't fully obey.
Progress: 60%
The pressure intensified. My head felt like it was splitting apart, tiny shards of fire exploding behind my eyes. Breathing… impossible. Every inhale rasped like sand through metal pipes. Panic clawed at me, but my mind—my new mind—kept observing, analyzing. Pain was pain—but fear could be studied.
Progress: 80%
Something shifted inside me. I could feel it… the body, or whatever force controlled it, moving differently, responding strangely. I couldn't control it yet—but I could sense it.A faint sound reached my ears: wind whistling through gaps, wood creaking under weight, like some giant invisible machine around me. Movement, or just the system's test—I didn't know.
Progress: 100%
The blackness shattered.
I was inside him.
Inside the body of a young man dangling from a rope in a decrepit barn. The coarse fibers bit into my neck, burning, shredding skin. Every heartbeat sent shards of pain radiating down my shoulders, into my arms, through my chest. My lungs screamed, each gasp tearing at throat and rib alike. My vision tunneled, red and black bleeding into white light from cracks in the walls.
Dizziness washed over me in waves. My stomach pitched, bile rising, muscles spasming violently. My fingers clawed at the rope, at nothing. Each movement sent sparks of agony up my arms, and every shift of weight twisted my spine into new torment.
Blood pounded in my head, veins throbbing violently as the oxygen-starved body struggled to survive. My thoughts were fragments—jagged shards of panic—but somewhere, deep in the mind now fully mine, I started to think. Analyze. Plot. Calculate.
Then—snap.
A loud crack echoed.
The rope jolted; the fibers shredded. My body fell, slamming to the ground with a bone-jarring thud. Pain exploded through every limb, every joint. My neck burned, skin raw where the rope had shredded it. My shoulders screamed. Each breath rasped like knives in my lungs.
The world spun. Pain screamed in every nerve, but I forced my trembling body upright. Blood pounded in my ears. My legs wobbled like wet branches. Fingers shook violently, rope burns still smoking, tender to the touch.
The system interface buzzed cold and precise. Teleportation ready. Lesser Strength inactive. Intelligence active.
I breathed harsh, ragged gasps.
The farmer had cut the rope from my neck, but the fire of pain still roared through every fiber of my body. My arms shook as I struggled to my feet, knees scraping against the rough barn floor, muscles trembling like frayed rope.
I crawled first, dragging my legs behind me, each movement agony incarnate. My lungs burned, my head throbbed, the rope burns stinging with every shiver. It felt impossible. Almost too much.
But I forced it. Slowly, agonizingly, I pushed myself upright. The barn tilted around me as if it were spinning, but I found a staggered balance. My legs protested with every step, threatening collapse—but I did it. Inch by agonizing inch, I began walking.
The farmer's presence was a shadow over every step. He didn't move, but his gun followed me with silent precision.
"Get, boy," he barked, voice rough as gravel. "And stay off my land."
He pointed down the dirt road. No mercy. No hesitation. Move—or suffer the consequences.
Each step was a battle. Pain lanced through neck, shoulders, knees. My body screamed to fall, to surrender—but my mind held me together.
The road stretched ahead, dusty and silent, the barn shrinking behind me. The farmer's eyes never left me, gun steady.
I walked. Slowly. Painfully. One wrong move, one stumble… and it would all be over.
And yet… I was alive.
For now.