Howl!!!
The wind screamed through the endless white expanse, a relentless banshee that drowned out everything else. It whipped past Tan Duyi's ears, carrying flurries of snow that stung like needles against his exposed skin. The world was a blur of gray skies and swirling powder, visibility reduced to mere feet. He couldn't hear his own footsteps crunching into the drifts; the gale swallowed them whole.
"This is not good," he muttered, his voice lost in the storm. Helplessness washed over him as he scanned the horizon—or what little he could see of it. One moment, he'd been in the awakening auditorium, his class upgrading in a flash of glory. The next, an error had hurled him into this frozen hell. No warning, no preparation. Just isolation on a forsaken planet where survival seemed like a cruel joke.
'Hooh...'
A shiver racked his body, deeper than before. His hands were going numb, fingers stiffening into useless claws. The cold was insidious, seeping through his thin academy uniform, which was never designed for anything beyond controlled training environments. He tried to push forward, seeking any form of shelter—a rock outcrop, a dip in the terrain, anything to break the wind. But his legs protested with every step. The snow was knee-deep, thick and unyielding, turning each movement into a laborious heave. He glanced back, squinting through the blizzard.
Only five footprints trailed behind him, already filling in with fresh snow. The trail vanished into the white void as if he'd never existed.
'Oh no, I'm really doomed,' he thought, panic rising like bile in his throat. His reincarnation had been a second chance, a fresh start in a world of spaceships and dungeons. But now? This icy tomb would claim him before he even leveled up once. Would he reincarnate again, or simply fade into nothingness? The uncertainty gnawed at him worse than the frost.
Ding!!
A chime pierced the mental fog, holographic text materializing in his vision like a lifeline.
[Detecting an anomaly.]
[Fixing it.]
[Anomaly fixed.]
[Delaying deletion.]
[Deploying emergency measures to preserve host life.]
Relief flooded through him, warm despite the chill. 'Ah... System, system, you're really like a father in times like these.' He wanted to shout it aloud, but his lips were too numb, his jaw locked from the cold that had already begun to infiltrate his bones.
[Deploying temperature control aura around the user.]
[Increasing temperature.]
The effect was immediate. A subtle hum enveloped him, invisible but palpable, like a bubble of warmth pushing back the arctic assault. The biting wind still howled, but it no longer clawed and gnawed at his skin. His body temperature climbed steadily, thawing the ice cold sensation in his veins. Fingers flexed, legs regained sensation. He exhaled a visible breath that no longer fogged instantly into crystals.
"Hah, that's good. I survived," he gasped, slumping against the snow for a moment. "Thank you, system."
Gratitude swelled in his chest. Having skirted death—nearly frozen into a forgotten statue—he praised the system's digital ancestors silently, as if it were a benevolent deity.
But the reprieve came with a caveat. More text scrolled across his HUD.
[This system miscalculated the effect of your compatibility. It is a wonder how you were transferred to this place, which is not even easy to locate.]
[It is advised that you find some form of protection and survival method hurriedly, as this system will not be able to protect you forever.]
[The system's energy is not endless, and this open space will drain it faster. It is recommended that you find shelter from the wind first.]
Shock replaced his elation. His system wasn't omnipotent like the ones in the stories he'd read in his past life? No infinite power, no god-mode cheats? "Ok, ok!" he replied aloud, voice steadier now. The cold no longer clouded his judgment; his mind sharpened with urgency.
He scanned the surroundings with renewed focus. The aura buffered the temperature, but the wind still tugged at his clothes, and visibility was poor. There—beyond the swirling snow, a darker shadow loomed. It could be a hill, a boulder formation, anything substantial enough to block the gale. Hope flickered. Gathering what energy he had left, he pushed toward it, legs pumping through the drifts. Each step was a victory, the snow yielding grudgingly underfoot.
The journey felt eternal, minutes stretching into an agony of effort. His breath came in ragged puffs, but the aura held, keeping hypothermia at bay. Finally, the shadow solidified into a jagged hill of rock, its face protruding from the frozen plain like a sentinel. Ice coated the protrusions, turning them into glistening spikes, but the leeward side offered respite.
Howl!!!
The wind still roared, but here, behind the natural barrier, it no longer battered his face. The difference was profound—a pocket of relative calm where the snow fell more gently, accumulating in softer piles.
"Hah, these few minutes of my life can be said to be the most exciting ever. And I do not want to experience it again," Tan Duyi sighed, leaning against the cold stone. His heart raced from the exertion, but relief tempered the adrenaline. He didn't want to tempt fate with another brush with death.
While catching his breath, he walked slowly along the hill's base, fingers trailing the icy wall in search of an opening—a cave, a crevice, anything to hunker down in. The system's warning echoed in his mind: energy wasn't endless. He needed permanence resident, not a temporary shield.
"Now that the worst has passed, even if only for a while, I need to check the skills," he murmured. His class skills. From the underwhelming Grade C Commander to the exalted Grade X RTS Commander—the name alone evoked memories of his past-life games. Real-Time Strategy: building empires, summoning armies, outmaneuvering foes. But would it translate the same here?
Focusing inward, he willed his status window to appear. Holographic text bloomed in his vision.
[Name: Tan Duyi
Mana: 100
Class: RTS Commander
Level: 1
Battle Tier: 0
Unit Cap: 5
Skills: Rifle Trooper Summon.]
'What? There's no worker to build a base?' Confusion furrowed his brow. In every RTS game he'd played, the foundation was construction—harvesters for resources, barracks for troops, defenses to hold the line. But here? Only a combat summon. No builders, no economy starters. His survival odds plummeted in his estimation. How was he supposed to thrive on a hostile planet without infrastructure?
The Unit Cap caught his eye: five. So, a hard limit on summons for now—scant few for an "army." Battle Tier zero made sense; he was fresh off awakening, powerless in direct combat himself. No personal strength buffs, just command potential.
Curious, he delved into the Rifle Trooper Summon description.
[Rifle Trooper Summon:
Cost: 20 mana.
Health: 100.
Mana: 50.
Summon a trooper carrying a rifle as the weapon. Has the skill to deploy grenades.]
Not bad for a starter. A basic infantry unit with ranged capability and an explosive option. But questions swirled. "System," he queried aloud as he continued tracing the wall, boots crunching on frozen gravel. "How does this work exactly? Do I bear ongoing costs? What about independence?"
The system responded promptly, text scrolling efficiently.
[Summoning requires an upfront mana cost from the host. Once manifested, units operate independently with minimal commands, drawing from their own mana pools for actions such as firing, reloading, or skill usage.]
[For example: Grenade deployment deducts from the trooper's mana. Bullet replenishment manifests magazines via mana conversion. If a unit's mana depletes to zero, the host may substitute their own mana as a replacement, though this is inadvisable for prolonged periods due to drain on personal reserves.]
Astonishment lit his face. "What a good skill," he whispered. Independent units with self-sustaining mana? It was efficient, almost too perfect for his gamer soul. No constant micromanagement of resources—just summon and strategize. The troopers could fight on autopilot, reloading via magical manifestation. And the fallback option meant he could clutch a battle if needed, though at personal risk.
His mana pool was modest at 100, regenerating slowly—perhaps 5-10 per minute in this calm spot. Five troopers would cost 100 exactly, maxing his cap and emptying his reserves. But once out, they'd handle themselves. Perfect for scouting or defense while he can also use to searched for that elusive cave.
The wall curved ahead, and excitement built as a darker indentation appeared—a potential entrance. Snow piled at its base, but it looked deep enough to shelter him. "This could be it," he said, quickening his pace.
As he approached, a low rumble echoed from within—not wind, but something alive. Eyes widening, he froze. The system's aura hummed steadily, but its energy warning loomed. Time to test his class.
Focusing, he channeled 20 mana. A glow formed in the air before him, coalescing into a humanoid figure. The Rifle Trooper materialized: clad in tactical gear that seem to contrast toward the cold temperature, rifle slung across its chest. It saluted crisply, eyes alert.
"Scout ahead," Tan Duyi commanded, voice steady despite his nerves. The trooper nodded, advancing into the shadows, rifle at the ready.
Survival was distant, but with this, perhaps not impossible.