π‘ CHARACTER INFORMATION π‘
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Name: Marfin
Age: 16
Race: Human
Appearance: Orange-shaded hair (currently black), artificial raccoon-like ears, black eyes
Height: 5'8''
Weight: 140 lbs
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𧩠ATTRIBUTES π§©
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Strength: 12
Agility: 18
Intelligence: 20
Stamina: 15
Mana: 50
Luck: ??? (Hidden)
Stat point: (00)
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β SKILLS β
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- Inventory (Lvl 1) β Allows retrieval of stored items
- Survival (Lvl 2) β Increases efficiency in hunting & gathering
- Gravity Magic (Lvl 1) β Unlocked, requires activation
- Combat Reflexes (Passive, Lvl 1) β Enhances reaction speed in danger
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"No matter how much I look at it, it's truly fascinating," the boy muttered as he stared at the interface floating in front of him, exposing nearly everything about his current state.
He extended his hand to touch it; however, it passed straight through the text.
Strange.
It was neither physical nor magicalβat least, not in any way he understood. With his limited knowledge of the world, he couldn't infer what it truly was.
And that wasn't the strangest part.
What fascinated him most was that he somehow understood it. Not its origin, but its purposeβits uses and benefitsβcame to him naturally.
'It's a game-like system⦠no.
It's something far more superior than that.'
The thought sent a shiver down his spine.
After all, the boy didn't even know what a game was supposed to be. Such a concept didn't exist in his vocabulary.
But here he was, speaking of games and systems as if he had been born knowing them.
It had started the moment he woke after that cruel intrusion. His mind had been flooded with informationβthings he had never learned, never questioned, never even imagined in his entire life.
Back then, he had wondered:
Is this good? Or is this something evil?
Yet despite that doubt, his thoughts had begun to tilt quietly, unnervingly,toward acceptance. Toward this strange system that had lodged itself inside his consciousness.
Perhaps it was because of something simple.
Those twenty stat points.
A so-called beginner's privilege.
With them, he had bought breadβreal bread, enough to stave off hunger. Something tangible. Something that had kept him alive.
Stat points.
A concept he understood without being taught. Points that could be distributed among attributes, increasing their numerical values.
He knew, instinctively, that allocating those points would strengthen him. That higher numbers meant greater power.
And yetβ¦
'Can strength and weakness truly be measured by numbers?'
The question lingered, heavy and unresolved, echoing in the quiet corners of his mind.
Pushing those thoughts aside, he refocused on the interface.
"Inventory," he murmured under his breath.
Almost instantly, the world before him shifted. The translucent panels dissolved, rearranging themselves with mechanical precision as a new display unfolded before his eyes.
πΌ INVENTORY πΌ
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Bread Γ15
Goblin Meat Γ12
Magic Lantern (Mana: Low)
Artificial Raccoon Ears (Hidden Functionality)
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His gaze lingered.
Food. Supplies. Tools.
"Things I can keep hereβ¦"
The realization settled quietly.
"Store," he muttered.
The interface responded at once.
The inventory panel slid aside, its contents dissolving into faint motes of light as a new display assembled itself with ruthless efficiency.
π SYSTEM STORE π
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Currency: Stat Points
Available Points: 00
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A single line of text surfaced beneath the panelβcold, sterile, and utterly indifferent to his circumstances.
π¦ CATEGORIES π¦
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β’ Food
Basic sustenance required for survival.
Purchased items are delivered instantly to Inventory.
β’ Potions
Consumables with immediate or temporary effects.
Usage beyond tolerance may result in adverse reactions.
β’ Weapons
Tools designed for combat.
Compatibility with the user is not guaranteed.
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Select a category to proceed.
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Zero points.
His eyes lingered on the number, unblinking.
He didn't feel frustration. Not yet. He already understood how stat points were earned.
The system's rules weren't a mystery but a pattern, waiting to be exploited.
He scanned the Store categories with practiced ease. Then, almost under his breath, he muttered, "System features."
The interface shifted once more, responding instantly to his command, as though acknowledging that this was no longer a casual curiosityβit was a deliberate inspection.
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SYSTEM FEATURES
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Feature Slot: 01
Status: Locked
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β’ Artificial Intelligence
An autonomous analytical entity designed to optimize conquest outcomes.
Primary functions include:
β Strategic analysis
β Pattern recognition
β Predictive modeling
β Behavioral adaptation
Current State: Dormant
Synchronization Rate: 0.00%
Unlock Condition:
βΈ ???
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"This A.I. feature could be very useful⦠I wonder what its unlock conditions are," he exhaled softly.
Stretching, he raised his arms above his head, pressing against the tension in his muscles as an invulnerable yawn escaped him.
"There's still one interface left," he murmured, eyes narrowing slightly. "The most important one⦠The Mission System. It's the only way to earn the so-called stat points for now."
"Mission," he whispered, and the interface responded again, shifting seamlessly at his words.
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π‘ SYSTEM MISSION INTERFACE π‘
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Mission Authority: Absolute
Failure Tolerance: Zero
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π CONQUERER'S MISSION
Objective: Conquer the fantasy world known as Eryndor
Difficulty: Impossible
Rewards: ???
Time Limit: None
Penalty for Failure: Undefined, but likely catastrophic
β³ MAIN SCENARIO MISSION
Objective: Become the first conquerer of a Demiplane, a nation founded by the Demi-human race
Difficulty: Impossible
Time Limit: 5 Years
Rewards: ???
Penalty for Failure: Death
𧩠SUB-MISSIONS
Status: Null
Description:
βΈ Can be triggered under any circumstances, anytime, anywhere
βΈ Time limit: Determined by the scale of the mission
βΈ Rewards: Dependent on the scale of the mission
βΈ Penalty: Determined by the scale of the mission.
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It truly wants me to conquer Eryndor⦠an entire fucking world?"
His brow twitched, the information slamming into him like a blunt ΡΠ°Ρ to the gut.
"And what's thisβDifficulty: Impossible?" A hollow laugh slipped out. "Aren't you being a bit of a hypocrite right now?"
His gaze flicked across the interface, disbelief curdling into something sharper.
"And on top of thatβ¦" He paused. "β¦what is this? Five-year time limit?..Be the first Conqueror of Demiplane?"
His jaw tightened.
"Does this stupid system seriously think conquering a land ruled by monsters clad in strength and power is easy?" His lips curled. "For someone like me?"
Sigh.
"A kid who lives in a tree house," he continued flatly. "Wears filthy clothes. Eats disgusting goblin meat just to survive."
The words hung there as bitter, absurd, and painfully real.
Impossible difficulty.
Five years.
A world to conquer.
The system wasn't asking for success.
It was demanding the impossible.
He stared at the interface a moment longer before finally dismissing it. His body slumped onto the bed, exhaustion catching up all at once.
His eyelids grew heavy.
Then heavier.
Just as sleep began to claim him,
A violent jolt of electricity tore through his body.
"Urgh! Wh-what the hell?! Why?!"
He lurched upright, breath hitching. Pain still crawled along his nerves.
Before a frown could even form, his eyes froze.
Floating before him was an interface,
Not translucent.
Not neutral.
But blood-red.
Pulsing slowly, like a living thing.
β MISSION INITIATION β
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[A submission has been initiated.]
𧩠SUB-MISSION
Objective: Reach 2 kilometers north
Time Limit: 10 Minutes
Rewards:
βΈ Stat Points Γ2
Penalty:
βΈ Destruction of the Tree House
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Countdown has begun.
Deviation is not advised.
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"A sub-mission? Right now?" His breath caught. "Objective: travel two kilometers north⦠in ten minutes?"
His tongue clicked in irritation. "Why?"
His gaze drifted instinctively to Mirai.
She slept nearby, gently stirring as leaves shifted around her small body.
'Sh-should I go?
B-but Miraiβ¦'
His eyes slid back to the interface.
To the penalty.
"Destruction of the tree house�" His voice dropped. "How is that even connected?"
It didn't make sense.
And that was what frightened him most.
Something was wrong. Deeply wrong. His gut twisted, screaming that this mission wasn't anything made up nor ordinary.
It could be a trigger.
Without another second wasted, he reached into his inventory.
The raccoon ears emerged.
As he placed them on his head, his long black hair receded, shifting into a short orange hue. Large raccoon-like ears twitched atop his head, unfamiliar yet disturbingly natural.
He glanced back at Mirai one last time.
"I'll be back soon," he whispered.
A promise.
Or a lie he desperately hoped wouldn't become one.