Light still burned behind his closed eyelids.
Somewhere in the blur of awakening, a new presence emerged—one he could not explain.
A faint sound, almost like a chime, echoed softly through the vast chamber.
When Zev opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was not stone, nor the statues looming above.
It was a message, floating in mid-air, glowing faint blue against the dark.
[Hello, Zev. Welcome.]
[To use the system, just say "Status."]
Zev blinked.
'What... is this?'
The words hovered, as though written on a screen that didn't exist. They pulsed gently, patient, waiting for him.
His thoughts were still a storm of confusion, fragments of questions he couldn't answer. But this—this strange message—was clear.
'System? Like... a game?'
He shook his head slightly. There was no point hesitating now. Not after everything.
Breath steady, voice hoarse, he spoke aloud:
"Status."
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then the air shimmered faintly. New lines of light appeared in front of him, sharper this time—structured, deliberate.
[Welcome.]
[Name: Zev]
[Age: 16]
[Race: Semi-Dragon (Half Human, Half Dragon)]
[Soul: Zev + Primordial Dragon]
[Bloodline: Dragonic]
[Abilities: Fated]
[Affinity: Lightning]
[Essence: Mana]
[Items: None]
Zev stared at the words, blinking slowly.
'Name: Zev... so it recognizes my name.'
A faint comfort stirred inside him, fragile and fleeting. At least one thing made sense.
But as his gaze dropped to the second line, his breath caught.
Age: 16.
For a heartbeat, the chamber seemed colder.
A weight pressed down on his chest.
'...Sixteen years.'
The number burned in his mind, refusing to fade.
'I've... been trapped in there for sixteen years. Sixteen winters, sixteen summers... stuck in the dark, asking questions no one could answer.'
A hollow ache spread through his ribs, sharp and relentless.
Sixteen years. Sixteen years of nothing but thought.
No memories, no voices, no warmth—only his own mind, circling endlessly in the dark with the same questions again and again.
'It was hell. Worse than hell.'
A shudder ran through him. The air felt thinner now, colder. He swallowed hard, forcing himself to breathe.
'But... I'm still here.'
His eyes drifted back to the screen. The words were still there, calm and indifferent, as if the last sixteen years meant nothing.
His pulse still raced.
'No use drowning in it,' he thought. 'Keep going. You need answers.'
Race: Semi-Dragon (Half Human, Half Dragon).
'Right... that's new.'
He exhaled slowly, mind trying to catch up.
'So... I'm half dragon. Guess that explains the egg.'
A bitter smile tugged at his lips. Strange how such a simple line could unravel a dozen questions—and spark a hundred more.
Soul: Zev + Primordial Dragon.
'Primordial Dragon?'
The words resonated somewhere deep inside him, stirring something old and vast.
But whatever it was, it remained just out of reach.
'I guess... Zev is me. The current me. But I'm also... part of something else. Something ancient.'
His fingers twitched unconsciously. The weight of those words pressed against his chest—half-understood, half-feared.
Bloodline: Dragonic.
'Not exactly normal blood running through these veins, huh?'
He flexed his hands, watching them. No scales, no claws—yet the word Dragonic lingered in his mind, a promise of something dormant.
Abilities: Fated.
'Fated... destined?'
The term unsettled him more than the others.
'What does fate have to do with me? Is this why I'm here?'
Another question with no answer.
Affinity: Lightning.
A flicker of curiosity sparked in the haze.
'Lightning... does this mean I can use magic?'
The thought felt distant, strange—yet something about it felt right, as if his very blood thrummed in response.
Essence: Mana.
'So... that confirms it. I can use magic. Or at least... I should be able to.'
A faint ember of determination lit in his chest.
Items: None.
'Figures.'
No weapons. No gear. No memories. Just... himself.
Zev let the screen fade as the reality of it all pressed closer.
'I don't remember where I came from, or what my purpose is... but these words... they form so clearly in my mind. Words like game... fantasy... new world.'
He froze.
'Wait... wait... have I... reincarnated? Is that even possible?'
A sharp pulse of frustration and fear gripped him.
'Agh—damn it! I can't remember anything!'
Zev exhaled sharply, chest rising and falling in shallow bursts.
'I need to move,' he thought. 'I can't just... stand here thinking.'
But the thought was easier than the act.
He looked down, at limbs that felt both familiar and foreign. His body existed, yes—but it felt wrong somehow. Unused. Disconnected.
Like a puppet with new strings.
He shifted his weight forward—and nearly collapsed.
"Shit," he hissed through gritted teeth, catching himself against the cold stone.
Every muscle felt sluggish, as though it had never moved before.
He forced his legs to respond, taking a halting step. Another. The floor seemed to tilt beneath him.
'Why... is this so hard?'
Frustration flared hotter than before.
'I've spent sixteen years trapped in that damn shell. Thinking. Waiting. Now I'm finally free, and I can't even walk straight?'
He clenched his fists, jaw tight.
'No. Not like this.'
Another step—stumbling, awkward.
Another—better.
Then a sharp misstep sent him sprawling to the ground.
His palms scraped against rough stone. He cursed again, low and bitter.
"Dammit...!"
For a moment, he stayed there, shoulders shaking, teeth grinding.
'Move, damn you. You're out now. You're alive. Don't let this beat you.'
Gritting his teeth, he pushed himself up once more—legs trembling, arms stiff.
One more step. Then another.
It wasn't graceful. It wasn't strong.
But it was forward.
Each step came a little easier now, though the tension in his limbs remained.
Zev's breath was ragged, chest rising and falling with effort.
But he moved.
'Finally... at least I can walk.'
His gaze swept the chamber, still vast and unfamiliar.
Then something caught his eye—a faint glimmer near the far edge of the altar.
A shard of crystal, jagged and half-buried in the stone.
Curious, he staggered toward it, legs stiff but determined.
As he drew closer, the crystal caught the dim light, casting back a warped reflection.
He froze.
Slowly, carefully, he knelt before it.
A face stared back—his face.
Pale skin, smooth as snow.
Jet-black hair, tousled and falling to sharp cheekbones.
Eyes—amber, sharp and vibrant, glowing faintly from within.
Golden lines, barely visible, traced subtle patterns along his shoulders and collarbone—marks of something ancient.
For a long moment, he simply stared.
'That's... me?'
His fingers reached up, hesitant, tracing the contours of his cheek.
The reflection mimicked him perfectly.
'I'm... that hot?'
The thought surfaced unbidden—ridiculous, absurd—yet somehow it grounded him more than anything had since waking.
Then his gaze dropped lower—
—and widened.
"HOLY SHIT, I'M PACKING."