James took one slow step forward, then another.
The woods breathed around him — all shimmer and shadow, alive in a way that didn't sit right. Trees arched too high. Mushrooms pulsed faintly with blue light. The air itself felt thick, like it was watching him.
He turned in a slow circle.
Still no sign of another human. No road. No clothes. No clue.
And then—
Chimes. Soft and crystalline, like someone tapping glass with a silver spoon.
James turned just in time to see a light flicker into existence mid-air — pale gold, with curling white tendrils around it like wings. It hovered just out of reach.
Then it spoke.
"There you are, you fleshy mess."
James recoiled. "What the hell—?"
The light pulsed, the glow peeling back just enough to reveal a tiny, floating figure — no taller than his forearm, with wings like torn parchment and hair like spun starlight. His eyes glowed violet, and his voice dripped with sarcasm and theater, like someone who loved hearing himself talk.
"You may call me Nysilus."
He twirled in the air like a smug firefly.
"Divine appointee of Spear-bound transitions. First-class system interpreter. Professional babysitter of angry men with unresolved trauma. That's you."
James blinked. "I've officially lost my mind."
"Hardly." Nysilus beamed. "You've just been reborn in a new world powered by mana, ruled by beasts, and mostly indifferent to your survival. Congratulations!"
He flared his wings dramatically.
"I'll be your guide until your contract is fulfilled."
James's fists clenched. "What contract?"
"One thing at a time, James." Nysilus wagged a finger. "First — open your system window. That'll give us a sense of what you're working with."
James glared. "How?"
"Just imagine it. Say 'System Window' in your head. Magic does the rest."
James shut his eyes. He'd already been executed, bargained with a voice in the dark, and dumped naked in the woods. What was one more hallucination?
System window.
A chime rang inside his skull.
And then—
BAM.
A glowing interface burst into the air before him like a sheet of glass suspended in midair.
[SYSTEM WINDOW – USER: James Whitlock]
Level: 1
Class: Spearbound (Soul-bound contract)
Status: Alive, Contracted, Bound
[REWARDS CLAIMED FOR ACCEPTANCE OF CONTRACT:]
– 1,000 Coins
– Skill: Sprint (Lv.1)
– Skill: Mana Control (Lv.1)
– Skill: Fast Recovery (Passive)
– Access Granted: Inventory, Weapon Wheel, Map Sync
– Unclaimed Missions: 1
The panel flashed through several unreadable languages before settling on English. James stumbled back like he'd been hit. Light flared across his vision. Every word seemed too loud.
He dropped to one knee, groaning. "Is this what migraines feel like when the gods get them?"
Nysilus snorted, doubled over in mid-air. "Oh, that reaction never gets old. Humans and information — like toddlers with a loaded crossbow."
James rubbed his temples. "Why am I getting coins? What the hell's a weapon wheel?"
"Glad you asked!" the fairy chirped. "Open your Weapons tab."
With a muttered curse, James swiped through the window — surprisingly intuitive for a magical death tablet — and a new screen glowed into view.
A faint shimmer pulsed in his palm… and then a spear snapped into existence.
Smooth shaft. Iron tip. Light, but solid.
It felt… crude.
James turned it over. "This… is it?"
"Behold!" Nysilus proclaimed. "Your starting weapon: a proud, reliable G-Class spear!"
James squinted. "What does G-Class mean?"
"It means that spear is complete shit."
James stood up fast. "Then why the hell did you give it to me?!"
Nysilus doubled over again, laughing so hard he nearly fell into a fern. "Because you'll find better weapons later! And besides—"
He zipped right up to James's face.
"It's not the weapon that kills. It's the hands that hold it. Even a stick, in the right grip, can be a guillotine."
James scoffed. "I don't play with sticks. And I've damn sure never used a spear."
"Then you'll learn." Nysilus pirouetted in the air. "That's what this world is for. Lessons. Trials. Pain. You're going to hate it."
James looked down at the weapon. It pulsed faintly, almost like a heartbeat.
"Alright," he muttered. "So now what?"
"Now, your first order of business is simple…" Nysilus gestured east. "Kill a magic beast."
From the distance came a rustling. A low growl. Something breathing heavy in the brush.
James tensed.
"You'll find low-level creatures that way," Nysilus added helpfully. "Perfect for warming up. They're only deadly if you suck."
James muttered, "Fantastic."
He started walking.
The deeper he went, the quieter it got. The trees pressed closer. Shadows danced without wind. The forest felt… sentient.
Every step dragged. He was naked. Cold. Pissed.
Until he spotted something between the roots.
A puddle.
Still. Dark. Reflective.
James crouched down and leaned over — more curious than anything — and froze.
The face staring back wasn't his.
The jaw was sharper. The stubble gone. The lines worn by decades of corruption and scotch had vanished. His skin was younger, taut. Eyes clearer, but still burning with rage.
He looked… twenty-five. Maybe younger.
"What the hell…" he whispered, touching his cheek.
"Ah, the realization hits."
James spun around.
Nysilus hovered behind him — no longer in fairy form, but as James himself, down to the smug expression and dirt-smudged jaw. He wore a parody of a three-piece suit stitched from bark, moss, and feathers.
"Look at me, I'm James Whitlock," Nysilus boomed in a mock deep voice. "I'm rich, powerful, morally bankrupt, and now I'm twenty again! What could possibly go wrong?"
James stared. "What the hell are you wearing?"
"It's what I imagine your personality smells like." He struck a model pose. "Rotting cash and whiskey sweat. Sexy, no?"
With a puff of gold smoke, the fairy returned to his original form, fluttering like none of it happened.
James wiped his face. "Why do I look like this?"
"You asked for power." Nysilus floated upside down. "Power needs a younger chassis. That old sack of bones you were dragging around? Please. I've seen better posture in graveyards."
"…Fair."
James stood again. "So where is everyone? Shouldn't there be towns or villages? Roads?"
Nysilus cackled. "People? Around you? Absolutely not." He spun slowly. "You were dropped into the eastern wilds — one of the few places still mostly empty. Well, except for the monsters. We wanted you to grow."
James blinked. "We?"
"Shhh. Focus on the trauma." Nysilus pointed at him. "You've got the soul of a fire, but the instincts of a bruised peach. You needed space. Solitude. Danger. If you survive it, you'll come out stronger."
"And if I don't?"
"Then something fuzzier eats well tonight."
James sighed. "I'd kill for one straight answer."
"You'll be killing something either way."
A low snarl echoed from the trees ahead.
Nysilus drifted lazily behind him, voice light.
"Also, you still look ridiculous."
James glanced down. "I'm literally naked."
"Exactly!" Nysilus sang. "Like an angry newborn holding a butter knife. It's adorable."
James shook his head. "Just point me to what I need to kill."
"Gladly. East. Something's waiting."
James gripped the G-class spear tighter.
"Let's test that theory."
"Ohhh, baby steps, James. Baby steps."