The final bell of the day echoed across the campus courtyard, the sound strangely final in Ethan Black's ears
Students spilled from the main hall in bursts of chatter and laughter, their robes swishing against the stone pathways. Sunlight painted the campus in soft gold, catching the proud banners of Westmere College as they swayed in the summer breeze.
Ethan lingered at the steps for a moment, holding the certificate in his hands. It felt heavy—not because of the paper itself, but because of the weight it carried. Years of study, late nights, missed meals… all bundled into a single sheet that declared he was ready for "the real world."
He chuckled to himself. The real world. As if the one I've been in so far wasn't real enough.
Around him, groups of graduates were gathering for celebration. Friends clapped each other on the back, lovers exchanged tearful hugs, families stood proudly in the shade. Ethan felt the usual emptiness tug at him. No one waited for him. No proud parents. No siblings.
He had been told the story countless times: how his parents had died in an accident when he was barely a year old. There were no details. No family heirlooms, no journals, not even a photograph. His foster parents had been kind enough, but they were older, busy people. They provided food, shelter, and the occasional pat on the shoulder—nothing more.
Now, with his studies behind him, there was no home to return to except the cramped apartment he rented alone in the lower district.
He adjusted his satchel and started down the main road, his boots crunching against loose cobblestone. The crowd thinned as he left the campus gates. The afternoon sun dipped lower, and long shadows stretched over the streets.
His mind drifted. What now? Find a job? Join the guild? I've got no family to help me, no noble name to lean on. Just me. And whatever the world decides to throw my way.
The wind picked up, carrying the distant toll of a church bell. He took the familiar path through the market square, weaving past merchants as they packed away their goods for the day. The air smelled of spice, sweat, and roasted nuts. A stray cat darted across his path, its tail flicking.
Somewhere, a child laughed. Somewhere else, someone shouted a curse.
It was all normal—until it wasn't.
Ethan stopped mid-step. A strange sensation prickled along the back of his neck, as if unseen fingers brushed against his skin. The noise of the market seemed to fade, muffled, as though he had stepped into another place entirely.
He looked around. People moved in the square, but their motions were sluggish, like they were walking through water. A merchant's raised hand hung in the air too long before lowering. A bird flapped its wings overhead, but each beat was unnaturally slow.
The world had gone… wrong.
Ethan's breath quickened. "What the hell…?"
A shadow passed across the cobblestones, but when he glanced up, the sky was empty. No clouds, no bird, nothing. Yet the shadow lingered, stretching impossibly far, bending at angles that made no sense.
Then came the sound. A whisper, close to his ear, though no one stood beside him. It wasn't words—more like the memory of words, a murmur carried from another room.
His knees felt weak. He turned toward the street that would take him home, but his vision blurred. The buildings around him seemed to fold inward, their lines twisting until they no longer resembled structures at all.
The shadow thickened.
Pain lanced through his skull, white-hot and immediate. He cried out, clutching his head, but the world was gone before the echo of his voice faded.
When Ethan opened his eyes, he was lying on a smooth, cold surface.
The first thing he noticed was the silence. Not the muffled hush of a library or the pause before thunder—this was deeper. Absolute.
He pushed himself upright. The room was dim, its walls smooth and seamless, made of some pale material that seemed to glow faintly from within. No doors. No windows. No furniture except the platform he had been lying on.
His own breath sounded too loud in his ears. "Hello?"
No answer.
Then, without warning, images began to pour into his mind. Not like remembering—more like insertion. His vision swam as faces, landscapes, and events he had never seen flashed behind his eyes. Names and voices that didn't belong to him rattled in his skull. A battle in a ruined city. A sky filled with fire. The cold gaze of a figure in silver armor.
He gasped, gripping the edge of the platform. "What… what is this?!"
The stream of memories ended as suddenly as it began, leaving him shaking and breathless.
Where did that come from?
The answer didn't come.
Before he could think further, a soft chime sounded in the air—though there was no visible source. A voice, calm and mechanical, spoke directly into his mind.
> [EXP Amplification System activated.]
Ethan blinked. "…What?"
> [Welcome, Ethan Black. You have been selected as this cycle's Host.]
"Host? Host of what?"
> [Host privileges granted: Battle EXP will be amplified by a random multiplier between ×2 and ×1,000,000.]
He stared into the empty room. "That's… a massive range."
> [Amplification amount will be randomized after each eligible battle. Boosts must be manually claimed by Host. Caution: revealing the existence of this system to others will result in immediate Host termination.]
A chill ran through him. "Termination… as in death?"
> [Affirmative.]
He swallowed hard. "…Noted."
> [Awaiting first battle. System standby mode engaged.]
The voice faded, leaving him with only the echo of his own heartbeat.
Ethan took a deep breath. Wherever he was, whatever had happened in that street—it was clear that his life had just changed completely. For better or worse, he had no idea.
But something told him he'd find out soon.