Author's Note:
Due to a platform ordering issue, please read Chapter 5 next for correct story flow.
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"Damned voice, what the hell is this place?!" Maxwell shouted, his hands flailing around wildly, reaching for anything close enough to grab—anything he could smash against something else.
"That woman-stealing, backstabbing monster! I hope you die!" Maxwell cursed relentlessly, until his hands finally touched something.
It was cold and smooth to the touch.
He instinctively reached out to grab it.
"Ouch! What the hell is this?!"
As he tightened his grip, his hand closed around something sharp. A searing pain shot through his palm as the object sliced his skin, leaving a shallow but stinging cut on his right hand.
Maxwell felt like he was going to explode from anger.
It was all that vile, impure, unholy, evil voice's fault. If that bastard hadn't sent him here without explaining anything—without telling him what to do or how to leave—he wouldn't have been so furious that he tried to smash something.
And because of that, he now found himself bleeding, freezing, and lying on the ground like an idiot.
Maxwell slumped down onto the snowy floor, clutching his injured hand as pain pulsed through it. His spirit felt completely crushed.
"Giving me a sword and… something I can't even use," he muttered bitterly.
'What the hell is this place…?'
Tears streamed down Maxwell's eyes.
'Is this how I die? In a place I don't even know…? No one knows I'm here.'
His thoughts spiraled.
'If I don't make it out alive… how are those two going to feel? Who's going to teach them after school? Who's going to make them food when they're hungry? Who's going to comfort them when they're sad?'
His breathing grew shaky.
'Hell… who's going to comfort me when I'm at my lowest?'
"I must not die," Maxwell whispered.
"I cannot die."
"I cannot die."
"I cannot die!"
With grim determination burning in his eyes, Maxwell pushed himself up from the ground. If that mysterious bastard wanted him dead, then he'd just have to try even harder.
Because Maxwell wasn't going down easily.
Standing up, he assessed his situation.
And it was terrible.
His right hand was injured, making the thought of wielding a sword almost impossible. The temperature was unbearably cold, and his body was already beginning to shiver. If he wasn't careful, he'd freeze to death sooner or later.
The place he found himself in was a small, circular cave—barely wide enough for four adults to lie side by side. Dust coated the floor, and a single rock rested near the center.
He moved toward the entrance, which was only wide enough for one person to pass through at a time. Outside, a thick veil of snow blocked his view entirely. He couldn't tell where he was or what the surrounding landscape looked like—only that it was night, judging by the oppressive darkness.
After confirming that the cave had no occupants and showed no signs of recent visitors, Maxwell retreated back inside. He sat down against the wall, resting his back as exhaustion weighed on him.
He searched for his backpack.
After finding it, he returned to his spot and emptied its contents onto the ground.
There wasn't much.
Two phones—one flip phone and one touchscreen. A flashlight, which he always carried since he lived near the woods.
The battery levels read seventy-three percent for the flip phone and ninety-eight percent for the touchscreen. The flashlight was fully charged.
Next, he checked his food supply.
It was… not good.
Four loaves of bread.
Four cans of soda.
Two hamburgers.
After devising a rough food plan, Maxwell unwrapped one of the burgers.
'Good thing I stopped by the shop near the train station,' he thought. 'If not, I'd be in serious trouble.'
With careful rationing, the food might last five days—maybe six if he was lucky.
'Until then… I'll document everything that happens.'
Maxwell's Compilation of Suffering at the Hands of the Evil Mysterious Voice
Day 1
"Wow, isn't that a lovely title?" the voice chuckled.
"Yes, totally agree with you on that one. Totally agree—w-wait… what the hell? How are you here?" Maxwell snapped, staring at the mysterious voice in shock. He had no idea how long it had been standing there, watching him scribble nonsense into his book.
"Calm down. I didn't see what you wrote—only the title. And I haven't been here long, so don't worry," the mysterious voice said casually. "Since I don't have much time, I'll get straight to the point."
"In order for you to get out, you need to complete a certain task."
The voice laughed softly.
"There is a temple to the south—in the direction of the tallest mountain. Go there, and you'll find a list of tasks you can complete. Each task has its own difficulty level. Naturally, completing a level one task and a level six task will grant different rewards. You'll see the details once you arrive."
"As for food—you're on your own."
"You can hunt neovano creatures, or gather food by scavenging and looking for plants. The second option sounds better, but due to the terrain, it's nearly impossible."
"As for the first option…" the voice paused. "Hunting neovano beasts will allow you to collect their neovano cores—or other useful items, which you'll have to figure out yourself."
"Their neovano cores can be used to increase your neovano points, strengthening your body and improving other aspects as well. The specifics? You'll discover them on your own."
"And as for the promise earlier…" the voice chuckled darkly. "Those two flowers can be used with quite a bang. Haha…"
With that, the voice fell silent once more, leaving Maxwell to believe it had finally left.
Then—
"And before I forget," the mysterious voice returned, like a cold winter breeze. "Take this piece of advice: even good luck is a skill. Don't brush things off as impossible just because they seem too good to be true."
"With the right balance of rationality and greed, you might just be the first to break the trend and succeed."
"Personally, I'm rooting for you—so try not to let me down."
And just like that, the voice went silent again.