"WHAT THE FUCK!!"
The sky shuddered.
A voice exploded like thunder dipped in pure attitude, like a dragon punched mid-nap, hungover on cosmic wine. The clouds scattered. The wind panicked. Birds bailed out of the stratosphere like they knew what was good for them.
And on top of a jagged stone peak, high above a modern city that had long forgotten legends, stood something both divine and extremely pissed.
Not quite human. Not quite beast.
A storm wrapped in flesh and fur.
---
Golden-white hair whipped around him like it had never known gravity, streaked with threads of lightning that hadn't cooled since the heavens first cracked. His tail flicked the air, so fast it left afterimages. His upper body was lean, carved like a warrior god from myth. Bronze skin radiated heat. His face? A wild contrast of divine angles and untamed fury. His eyes—
Void-purple.
Glowing with the kind of cosmic violence that didn't just kill, it erased.
And across his body, faint glowing lines hummed beneath his skin—runes from a forgotten seal that once held him down.
Sun Wukong.
The Monkey King.
Unbound.
Awake.
And confused as hell.
He cracked his neck, once to the left, once to the right. The mountains trembled with each pop.
Then he squinted at the horizon.
What he saw made him scowl.
Metal beasts on wheels zipped by on black paths. Towers of glass and light stabbed the sky. Humans wandered about, faces glued to glowing rectangles. Machines buzzed. Drones hovered. Screens blinked from the sides of buildings.
The divine aura of the world had thinned like cheap tea. Qi? Barely breathable. Cultivation? A joke. There was no Immortal Presence. No Celestial Flow. Not even a decent demonic taint.
It was… pathetic.
He folded his arms. His tail lashed behind him.
"Where the hell are the Sects? Where are the immortal clans? The Heavenly Courts? The battles that lasted seven days and seven skies?"
Silence.
Just the low hum of air conditioners and cars.
He sniffed.
"Don't tell me… they all died? Or did they get lazy and let the mortals take over?"
His expression darkened.
"...Soft. They all went soft."
But then, he froze.
A twitch in the air.
Like the world had coughed up something it shouldn't have.
His eyes locked onto a point in the far cityscape—above a collapsed building, just past an abandoned highway.
A rip.
A glowing, vertical wound tearing into reality. Red and violet energy spilled out, forming a ring of runes around a swirling vortex of chaos. The pressure coming from it wasn't natural. It didn't belong to the Dao, nor any path he recognized.
A Gate.
And it stank of artificial spirit energy. Like someone had built a dungeon, shoved monsters inside, and fed it glitches for breakfast.
Then came the screams.
Figures in armor were already near the Gate, shouting orders.
Some wielded spears that crackled with energy. Others fired compressed spells from rune-rifles. They had formations—loose ones, but practiced. Teams. Roles.
One shouted, "Pull aggro off the healer!"
Another screamed, "Ultimate cooldown not ready! HOLD THE LINE!"
Wukong arched an eyebrow.
They were trying. But this wasn't strength. This was survival.
This was mortals playing dress-up with death.
---
Then, he saw her.
A girl stumbled out of the Gate, blood matting one arm. Her blade, chipped and cracked, dragged slightly behind her. Her long hair, a storm of violet-black, was soaked in sweat and spirit ash.
She wasn't screaming.
Just running.
Not from the horde.
From one.
A beast burst through the Gate after her—a towering abomination of muscle and armor. Four meters tall, plated in abyssal carapace, its eyes glowed like radioactive coals. It howled—a warped sound of thunder, static, and cruel joy.
It was playing with her.
Chasing her like prey already half-caught.
Wukong's gaze sharpened.
The girl tripped but didn't cry out. She caught herself on her elbow. Pushed herself back up. Her sword—cracked as it was—never left her hand.
The others didn't notice.
They were too busy fighting the Gate spawn.
But Wukong watched her.
Something about her caught his eye—not power. Not beauty. Grit. The kind that reminded him of someone who once stood beside him on the battlefield long ago. Before heaven broke.
"…Interesting," he muttered.
And then he vanished.
One moment, the Monkey King stood on a mountaintop.
The next?
A few meters from the Gate.
Out of sight.
In a narrow alley, untouched by the monster's chaos, Wukong closed his eyes.
"Let's try this human thing again…"
His form shimmered.
Golden fur receded.
White-gold hair shortened into a layered cut, falling stylishly over his brow. His frame narrowed—still lean, still strong, but no longer beastly. Glowing runes condensed into sleek golden tattoos across his arms.
His tail? Gone.
He zipped up a dark jacket, embroidered with a symbol no mortal would recognize: the mark of the Defiant Heaven.
Loose black pants, boots made for jumping between clouds. And a quiet, controlled presence that hinted at storms beneath still water.
To mortals, he now looked like a man in his mid-twenties.
Cool. Dangerous. Beautiful.
Wukong ran a hand through his hair and smirked.
"Let's see how you worms handle this."
---
The beast raised its claw.
The girl braced, lips bleeding, ready to die standing.
But death didn't come.
Because someone snapped their fingers.
A casual flick.
Like swatting a bug.
BOOM.
The monster's head detonated.
No warning. No explosion visible to the naked eye. Just the sudden, violent separation of skull and flesh. One half of its head flew left, the other right. The core burst midair, releasing a pulse of crimson light.
Gore rained. Silence followed.
Even the Gate seemed confused.
Then—
[DING!] [Gate Boss Eliminated.]
[XP Awarded.]
[Loot Dropped: Core of Ashen Rhino Lord // Trait: Berserker Rampage (Unclaimed)]
[Level Up! USER is now Level 1.]
[Congratulations, USER!]
[Please Select Your Starter Class: Warrior / Mage / Assassin / Support]
Wukong's eyelid twitched.
"Level one? I just scratched my damn finger."
Another screen popped up.
[Please select your Starter Class to unlock your first Skill Tree!]
His glare deepened.
"You dare… reduce me to a starter? I INVENTED these classes. I trained the ancestors of your damn System."
He slapped the screen.
It dodged.
The girl, meanwhile, blinked in disbelief.
The monster—the same one that had slaughtered a squad moments ago—was gone. Obliterated.
And standing in its place was a man.
Not glowing. Not radiating killing intent. Just…
Present.
Like he belonged anywhere he stood.
She gripped her sword tighter, but didn't raise it.
"…Thank you," she said quietly, voice shaky but strong.
He looked at her—took in her wounds, her cracked sword, her trembling legs still holding firm.
Wukong gave her a small nod.
She opened her mouth.
"Who… who are you?"
---
Wukong rolled his neck again. Then exhaled.
His tattoos dimmed.
The divine weight behind his eyes faded—just a little.
He reached up and brushed his hair back, revealing just a bit of that otherworldly gold behind his gaze.
And then he smiled. That lazy, cocky grin. The kind that had once sent Celestial Generals sprinting for backup.
"My name is—"