Arc 0: Awakening
It began with darkness.
Not the peaceful, velvety kind that accompanies a deep slumber, but a heavy, suffocating void. It was a crushing weight that pressed against the chest, as if the world itself was holding its breath, waiting for something to break.
There had been no warning. No dramatic screech of tires, no blinding flash of light, no descent of a benevolent god to explain the cosmos. There were no final, poignant words left on his lips.
He reached into his mind for a memory—a name, a face, a moment before the blackness—but grasped only smoke.
He didn't remember dying. He didn't remember living.
There was no dramatic screech of tires, no blinding flash of light, no final words. There was only a terrifying, blank silence where a life should have been.
Then—
A sharp, jagged pain stabbed through his skull, shattering the void.
His eyes snapped open.
The sensation of reality rushed back in all at once. Cold stone pressed unforgivingly against his back, biting into his skin. The air was heavy and damp, thick with the primal, earthy scent of wet moss and the metallic tang of old iron. Somewhere in the dark distance, water hit stone in a slow, maddening rhythm.
Drip… drip… drip…
He drew a ragged breath and looked up. The ceiling curved unnaturally above him, the stone carved rather than built, oppressive and ancient. Faint blue symbols pulsed along the walls like the heartbeat of a dying star—cracked, fading, but undeniably alive.
With a groan, he pushed himself up.
The movement felt wrong. His body felt lighter. Stronger. The undefined heaviness of a previous existence—one he couldn't quite recall but felt in his bones—was gone, replaced by a terrifying vitality. He felt… younger.
He looked down at his hands.
They were strangers' hands. Smooth. Unblemished. He clenched his fist, and the tendons flexed with a responsive power that felt alien to him. He felt a phantom sensation of old scars, of calluses earned from a life of labor, but when he looked, there was nothing.
He tried to force a memory. Who was I?
The answer was a blank wall.
I don't know who I was, he realized, a cold shiver running down his spine. But I know I am not on Earth anymore.
The thought had barely formed in his mind when the air in front of him shimmered. Reality seemed to fracture, and light coalesced into shape.
📜 SYSTEM INITIALIZING…
[Welcome, User]
World Sync: Complete
Existence Status: Rewritten
Memory: Fragmented [Error]
Lines of translucent blue text floated in the stale air, burning with the clarity of a hologram. He stared, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. He blinked, but the text remained, hovering expectantly.
Then, a new prompt expanded with a soft chime.
🔓 UNIQUE AUTHORITY DETECTED
Cheat Ability Unlocked:
『Unlimited Gacha System』
A circular interface manifested before him, rotating slowly. It was a massive, ornate wheel divided into countless glowing segments, each labeled with possibilities that defied logic: Characters · Items · Skills · Artifacts · ???
At the very center of the wheel, a single number pulsed with an ominous red light:
🎰 Available Pulls: 1
He froze, trying to comprehend the absurdity of it, when a voice echoed. It didn't come from the cave, but from inside his own mind—soft, emotionless, and terrifyingly clear.
"This world operates on power," the voice whispered. "Luck is also a form of power."
Before he could respond, the ground beneath him shuddered. The dungeon trembled, shaking dust from the glowing symbols above.
From deep within the shadows, far down the corridor, a sound tore through the silence.
It was a growl. Low. Hungry. Distinctly non-human.
He scrambled backward, his back hitting the cold wall. Whatever this place was, it wasn't waiting for him to remember who he used to be. It wasn't waiting for him to get comfortable.
It was waiting to feed.