[Congratulations, you have unlocked the Universal Uber System]
[Name: Alex Mercer]
[Cosmic Crime: Truck Kun Homicide]
[Punishment: Become the New Driver]
[Vehicle Control: Bound to the Key]
[Task Assigned: Drive and Deliver Cosmic Justice]
[Status: Pending]
[Attributes]
[Quick study carried out on host's race suggests the average attributes are within the range of 50]
• Strength: 51
• Speed: 51
• Endurance: 51
• Intelligence: 51
• Luck: 51
• Charm: 51
Alex stared at the floating screen in front of him, his hands still shaking from everything that had happened.
A system. Like the ones from the web novels he used to read during his lunch breaks. Back when his biggest problem was meeting deadlines.
He waved his hand through the display. His fingers passed right through it.
'This is real. This is actually real.'
The interface glowed with soft blue light. Stats listed out in neat rows. Strength, Endurance, Speed, Intelligence, Luck, Charm. All of them at 51.
Alex let out a hollow laugh. "Average. Even with this thing, I'm still just... average."
Of course he was. Why would anything change? The universe had already made it clear what it thought of him.
The screen flickered. The stats disappeared.
A new message took their place.
[New Quest Received]
[Crash the Gala happening in Paris tonight and find next target]
[Reward: 200,000 dollars]
Alex read it twice, his tired brain struggling to process the words.
"Paris." His voice came out flat. "I'm supposed to go to Paris. Tonight."
He sat down on his bed, still holding the key. His head was pounding.
'How am I supposed to get to Paris? I don't have money for a plane ticket. I don't even have a passport that's not expired.'
The absurdity of it almost made him laugh again. Cosmic beings had just sentenced him to eternal punishment, and now he was worried about plane tickets.
His phone buzzed.
Alex picked it up without thinking, expecting another spam email. Then he saw the notification.
[Credit Alert: 8000 dollars]
He stared at the screen. Blinked. Read it again.
Eight thousand dollars. Just sitting in his account. No sender information. No explanation.
"What the hell?"
His first thought was that it was a mistake. Banks made mistakes all the time. He'd have to call them, sort it out, probably get accused of fraud somehow.
Then he looked at the floating screen. The system. The quest.
'Did it send this?'
It was the only explanation that made sense. And nothing made sense anymore, so why not?
A new message appeared.
Alex hesitated. A voice in his head. Just what he needed. More things that weren't real talking to him.
But what choice did he have?
"Fine. Yes. Whatever."
The voice was female. Clear. Too cheerful for what was happening.
Alex closed his eyes. "Great. Now I'm hearing voices."
"Does it matter?"
Alex rubbed his face. His hands still smelled like sewer water, even though he'd washed them. Or maybe he was imagining it.
"June. Your name is June."
"Yeah. Sure." Alex looked at his phone again. At the money. "That came from you?"
"Right." He set the phone down. "And what am I supposed to do with it?"
[New Quest: Get a new suit]
Another message. Another task. Alex wanted to throw the key across the room. Wanted to scream. But what would that accomplish?
He looked down at his wrinkled shirt and old jeans. A gala. In Paris. He'd need to look presentable. Play the part.
'Just go through the motions. Figure out what this thing wants. Maybe there's a way out of this.'
He grabbed a clean shirt and jeans from his dresser and got dressed. The movements felt mechanical. His body on autopilot while his mind was somewhere else.
The key sat heavy in his pocket as he walked outside.
The truck was still there. Massive and wrong and impossible to explain.
Alex stopped in front of it, his stomach turning.
'I killed someone in this thing. There was blood everywhere. And now I'm just supposed to drive it around like nothing happened?'
"I can't take this into town." His voice sounded distant. "People will stare. Someone will ask questions."
"An illusion?" Alex looked at the truck. Then at his house. Then back at the truck. "Does it cost money?"
Of course they did. Nothing was free. Not even his punishment.
"How much?"
[Illusion Skill Activated]
[Cost: 700 dollars]
"Wait, I didn't...."
His phone buzzed.
[Debit Alert: 700 dollars]
Alex clenched his jaw. "You could have asked first."
"Right." He looked at the truck. It looked exactly the same. "What did I just pay for?"
Alex turned around. Through the glass, he could see his front yard. Where the truck should have been, there was a black Mercedes Benz.
He looked back at the truck. Still a truck from his perspective.
"An illusion." He felt nothing. No amazement. No excitement. Just exhaustion. "So other people see something different."
"Fine." Alex opened the truck door and climbed inside.
The interior still smelled wrong. Like copper and something else he couldn't identify. He tried not to think about the old man. About the blood. About any of it.
He put the key in the ignition and turned it. The engine roared to life, loud and angry.
"Do I have a choice?"
"Then why ask?"
June didn't respond.
Alex drove through the neighborhood, his hands tight on the steering wheel. People on the sidewalk didn't give him a second glance. They just saw a nice car. Not a murder weapon.
June's directions were precise. Clinical. Turn here. Continue straight. Arrive in three minutes.
The clothing store was upscale. The kind of place Alex would normally walk past without looking. He parked and sat in the truck for a moment, staring at the steering wheel.
'I don't want to do this. I don't want any of this.'
But he got out anyway. Because what else was he going to do?
Inside, everything was too clean. Too expensive. Classical music played softly through hidden speakers. Mannequins in perfect suits stood frozen in the windows.
A salesman appeared almost immediately, his smile practiced and empty. "Good afternoon, sir. How can I help you today?"
"I need a suit." Alex's voice came out flat. "For tonight."
"Formal occasion?"
"Something like that."
The salesman led him through the store, pulling suits off racks with efficient movements. He talked the entire time. About fabric quality and Italian tailoring and current trends. Alex barely heard him.
In the fitting room, Alex tried on a black suit. It fit perfectly. Too perfectly. Like it was made for him.
He looked at himself in the mirror. Clean. Presentable. Like a completely different person.
'Is this what they want? For me to look the part while I do their dirty work?'
The suit cost fifteen hundred dollars. Alex paid without arguing. What was the point?
Back in the truck, he sat in the driver's seat and stared at nothing.
"And how exactly am I supposed to do that?" Alex asked. "Fly? Drive across the ocean?"
Alex went very still. "Teleport."
"Of course there is." He closed his eyes. "How much?"
Two thousand dollars to be ripped from one place and dropped in another. To be thrown into whatever nightmare was waiting for him in Paris.
"And if I say no?"
Alex sat there for a long moment. He thought about not doing it. About driving this truck into a lake and walking away. About going home and pretending none of this ever happened.
But the key was in his hand. The system was in his head. And those cosmic beings had made it very clear he didn't have a choice.
"Do it."
[Travel Skill Activated]
[Cost: 2000 dollars]
The world twisted.
Alex's stomach lurched. His vision went white. Every nerve in his body screamed. It felt like being torn apart at the molecular level and reassembled wrong.
Then it stopped.
He was on his hands and knees on cold pavement, gasping for air. His suit was wrinkled. His head was spinning.
Voices surrounded him. French. People talking, laughing, living their lives while Alex tried not to throw up.
He looked up slowly.
The Eiffel Tower stood in the distance, lit up against the darkening sky.
Paris.
He'd actually been teleported to Paris.
Alex stayed on his knees for another moment, waiting for his vision to clear. Waiting for his heart to stop trying to beat out of his chest.
'This is my life now. This is what I am.'
He stood up slowly, brushing off his suit. People walked past him like he was invisible. Just another tourist in a city full of them.
"Right." Alex's voice was hollow. "Let's get this over with."
He started walking. One foot in front of the other. Through streets he didn't know, in a city he'd never been to, heading toward something he didn't understand.
But that didn't matter anymore.
Nothing mattered except surviving whatever came next.
---
[Author's Note: Thank you for reading. Please support with power stones and comments.]