The world had become a whirlwind of speculation and chaos after the telepathic broadcast from the mysterious voice. But in the remote province of Yunnan, China, a young woman named Ling Xi awoke with a quiet smile. Unlike the rest of the world, still dazed and fearful, Ling Xi and her family had always known something like this would come. Not the exact details, of course—but their ancient scrolls, passed from generation to generation, chronicled catastrophes, strange celestial events, and knowledge of human potential far beyond what modern science could explain.
She rose from the ground, adjusted her robe, and stepped barefoot onto the cool, wet grass of the forest near her house. Ling Xi was the fifteenth child in her massive family, which was both a burden and a blessing. Expectations were low; freedom was high. No one paid much attention to her, which allowed her to pursue chemistry in university, build her own lab, and read every sci-fi novel she could get her hands on. Martial arts was also a passion, something inherited from the elders.
Now, she carried something beyond her ancestors' wildest dreams: a sentient. A real, functional, intelligent one. It had appeared after the light entered her, analyzing her body and offering her a class and special abilities based on the creatures she had killed in the forest—snake, wildcat, wolf, and even a gorilla that had wandered from a nearby wildlife park.
"Choose your class," the system had said.
And without hesitation, she chose the class she always dreamed of: Battle Mage.
She felt her fingers tingle with both elemental energy and enhanced physical strength. She chuckled.
"If only Grandfather could see me now," she muttered, twirling her spear.
But she knew she had to hide this. Her clan had knowledge, but not this power. If they found out, they would seek to control or even eliminate her. She had to leave, fast, before any of her siblings—who may also have received the light—realized what she had become.
As she strolled out of the forest, dusting her pants and adjusting her satchel, she started to formulate a plan. Her eyes gleamed with excitement. The world was changing, and she would not be left behind.
Meanwhile, in the misty highlands of Scotland, Callum McCloud stood quietly, staring at the three creatures he had slain just hours before—a red deer, a wildcat, and an eagle. The system had acknowledged them all, listing their scientific names and traits in a mechanical yet familiar voice.
"Red deer: Cervus elaphus. Trait acquired: peak endurance and cold resistance."
"Eurasian wildcat: Felis silvestris. Trait acquired: Silent movement and predatory instincts."
"Golden eagle: Aquila chrysaetos. Trait acquired: Enhanced vision and aerial coordination."
Callum ran a hand through his thick beard, processing it all. At 25, he had spent almost his entire life in the mountains, hunting and surviving with little connection to the modern world. While his cousins left for city jobs, he chose to remain.
When the system asked for his class, he chose Ranger without a second thought. He had used a bow since he was five.
Pain began to shoot out from head to foot, and he almost lost consciousness, but he remained awake as the changes in his body began to manifest. After what felt like an eternity, he rose to his feet with conviction in his eyes.
"So all those novels weren't that far off," he mumbled, holding his handcrafted longbow. "The only difference is… this isn't fiction."
He chuckled, then glanced toward the horizon. He would keep this hidden. He wasn't stupid. Governments, corporations, and worse would come looking. And he didn't trust any of them.
"But I'll be ready," he said, stringing an arrow for practice. "Let them come."
In the foul-smelling back alleys of the Bronx, beneath a flickering streetlight barely holding on to life, Jaden Cruz crouched behind an overflowing dumpster. The cold seeped through the thin fabric of his stolen jacket, but he hardly noticed. His hands were slick with blood—trembling, twitching, like they didn't even belong to him anymore.
His breath came out in jagged gasps. His heartbeat thundered in his ears. His entire world had just changed—and he hadn't decided yet if it was for better or worse.
"I didn't want to kill him," he whispered to no one. "But it was him or me."
A few feet away, sprawled in a grotesque angle under a fire escape, was Big Tone—the brutal gang enforcer, a slab of a man with fists like wrecking balls and a history of making kids like Jaden disappear. A kitchen knife—a dull, rusted thing he'd snatched from a boarded-up bodega—was buried hilt-deep in the man's chest. Blood pooled around him in thick, black puddles, the kind that glistened like oil under the weak light.
Jaden doubled over and dry-heaved, retching up nothing but acid and panic.
Only ten minutes ago, they'd both been in the middle of a savage beating—Big Tone's fists doing the talking, punishing Jaden for stealing from the gang's stash house. The man had tossed him around like a chew toy, snapping ribs and splitting his lip, muttering curses through cracked knuckles.
But then…
The voice.
Like a dream made of thunder. Not just heard, but felt. Echoing inside his bones, tearing through the layers of his mind like fire through paper.
Big Tone had stopped mid-punch, eyes wide. His bruised knuckles hung in the air like he'd been frozen in time. Both of them had stood there—slumped, bloodied, stunned—as the alien broadcast played out inside their heads.
Then came the light.
A beam of golden-white brilliance that split the sky and slammed into Jaden like a bolt from the heavens. Big Tone screamed and covered his face, blinded. And in that split second, Jaden moved.
Pure instinct. Pure survival.
He grabbed the knife and lunged forward with everything he had left. He didn't remember screaming. Didn't remember the knife piercing bone. Only the warmth of blood and the horrible silence afterward.
Then the second voice came.
Calm. Mechanical. Unfeeling.
"Species match confirmed.
Human attributes acquired: strength. Stamina. Endurance.
Assimilation protocol initiated."
Jaden's eyes widened. "What the hell…?"
He stumbled backward, collapsing against the dumpster. Something was happening inside him—something he couldn't stop.
Then came the madness.
Desperate and reeling, Jaden looked around. The light hadn't just given him strength—it had opened a door. And in his panic, something primal took over. He hunted.
He staggered forward and drove the blade into a stray dog barking from behind a chain-link fence. Then a stray cat. Then a rat scuttling near a trash can. His hands moved without thought—guided by instinct, fueled by the silent system in his head.
With each death, the voice returned:
"Canine traits absorbed:
– Enhanced auditory range
"Feline traits absorbed:
– Reflex velocity enhanced."
"Rodent traits absorbed:
– Disease resistance improved."
And then came the pain.
Real pain.
It wasn't the searing kind—it was the tearing kind. Every nerve felt like it was being rerouted. Every bone felt like it was breaking and fusing back together in fast-forward. Jaden bit down on his tongue to keep from screaming, fists clenched so tight they cut into his own palms.
"Warning: Trait fusion may result in temporary neural disruption."
Class selection required. Please confirm class."
Jaden wheezed. His vision swam. His body was a raw bundle of agony and confusion. But somehow, the word came to him, rising from the depths of his pain like a truth waiting to be spoken.
"Warrior."
"Class confirmed. Warrior-Class Chosen.
Initial transformation: 6%.
Prioritizing skeletal reinforcement, muscle density, and organ recovery.
Estimated completion: 17 minutes."
He slumped against the alley wall, gasping, feeling his broken ribs begin to mend, knitting together with sickening cracks. His fractured leg straightened and realigned with a nauseating pop. Muscle swelled across his chest and arms, fibers strengthening and tightening with each breath.
Sweat poured down his face. He laughed once—a low, bitter sound.
When he finally stood, he was no longer the trembling boy who had taken a beating from Big Tone. He stood taller. Heavier. Heavier in presence. His eyes, once dull with survival, now gleamed with something else:
Power.
"Oh, hell yeah," he muttered, flexing his fingers. "Nobody's going to lay hands on me now."
He limped forward, not quite fully healed, but healed enough. As he passed Big Tone's corpse, he didn't look away. Instead, he gave it a long, quiet nod—like a soldier leaving behind a battlefield.
Then he turned toward the open street beyond the alley. The city was waking up—sirens, shouting, and somewhere a car alarm screamed. People were beginning to realize the world had changed. That something had come.
And Jaden Cruz? He had changed with it.
"This city took everything from me," he muttered. "My mom, my dignity, my freaking future. But not anymore."
He stepped out of the shadows, rolling his shoulders, feeling the system inside him—dormant now, but waiting.
"I'm taking it all back."
There were gangs to crush. Territories to claim. Power to seize. And if anyone stood in his way?
Well.