"They survived," said a calm voice in a dark room filled with glowing screens. One of the monitors showed the boy lying unconscious in the alley, bleeding badly. Another screen showed the assassins disappearing into the shadows. A third screen was just static—it had glitched right when the old man touched the boy.
"We lost the signal for a few seconds," said a technician, typing quickly. "That's when the transfer happened."
A woman with glowing eyes and a coat full of tech stepped closer to the screen. "He's not ready," she said. "But the power is active. We'll need a plan to control him."
"Or push him," said the first voice. "Let him use the power. The more he does, the more we learn."
The room went quiet as the boy twitched on screen, groaning in pain.
"He's waking up," the technician said.
"Good," the woman replied. "Let the next phase begin."
I woke up gasping.
My body jerked upright, drenched in sweat. The room was dark, quiet—too quiet. Moonlight spilled through the window, casting pale lines across the floor. I blinked, trying to make sense of where I was.
My room.
Not the alley. Not the blood. Not the assassins.
I touched my shoulder—bandaged. My forehead—cool and damp. Someone had cleaned me up. But who?
I tried to stand, but my legs wobbled. The pain was real. The fight hadn't been a dream. I remembered the man in white, the powers, the assassins, the leader with the silver mark… and the dagger in my back.
I should've died.
I stumbled toward the mirror, needing to see myself. My reflection stared back—same messy hair, same tired eyes. But something was off. My pupils flickered, just for a second, like static on a screen.
Then it happened.
A soft ding echoed in the room, like a notification—but not from my phone. A glowing blue rectangle appeared in front of me, hovering in the air between me and the mirror.
I froze.
The screen pulsed gently, words forming in sharp, digital text:
[SYSTEM UPDATE COMPLETE]
[NEW USER DETECTED]
[PLEASE ENTER USERNAME TO CONTINUE]
A blinking cursor appeared, waiting.
I blinked, confused. "What is this?" I muttered. "Some kind of… void?"
The moment the word left my mouth, the screen flashed violently.
[USERNAME ACCEPTED: VOID]
[ENTITY CLASS: GLITCH TYPE-B]
[STATUS: UNSTABLE]
[MISSION: UNKNOWN]
I stared at it, stunned. "Wait—no! I didn't mean that!"
The screen didn't care.
[WARNING: You are being monitored]
[Power Sync: 12%]
[Abilities: Locked]
[Next Trigger: Imminent]
I reached out, trying to undo it, but my hand passed through the screen like mist. It flickered once more, then vanished.
I stood there, heart pounding, staring at the empty space.
I hadn't chosen the name. I'd accidentally spoken it. But now it was mine.
And somehow… it felt right.
I stared at the floating screen, still pulsing faint blue in front of the mirror. It hadn't disappeared yet. My fingers twitched.
Curiosity won.
I reached out slowly, brushing my hand against the edge. The screen shimmered, reacting to my touch. A new menu appeared:
[SETTINGS]
[ENTITY PROFILE]
[POWER SYNC]
[COMMUNICATIONS]
I hovered over Settings. Just wanted to see what was inside. Maybe a way to undo the name—Void. Maybe something to explain what was happening.
I tapped it.
The screen didn't open.
It twitched.
Then it screamed.
A high-pitched digital screech filled the room, like a thousand corrupted files trying to play at once. The screen turned red, then black, then static. Symbols flashed—some familiar, most broken.
[ERROR DETECTED]
[REASON: ███████████████████]
[SYSTEM INSTABILITY: ESCALATING]
[WARNING: Unauthorized Access Attempt]
"What the hell?" I whispered, stepping back.
The mirror behind the screen cracked slightly—just a hairline fracture, but enough to make me flinch. My reflection glitched. For a second, I saw someone else. Not me. Not human.
Then the screen blinked again.
[Incoming Message…]
The text loaded slowly, like it was struggling to form. Most of it was broken, scrambled, or hidden behind strange symbols.
[H̶e̶l̶l̶o̶ ̶V̶O̶I̶D̶]
[Y̷o̷u̷ ̷a̷r̷e̷ ̷n̷o̷t̷ ̷s̷a̷f̷e̷]
[T̴h̴e̴y̴ ̴k̴n̴o̴w̴ ̴y̴o̴u̴ ̴e̴x̴i̴s̴t̴]
I blinked. The letters were warped, broken, like someone was trying to speak through a cracked speaker.
Another line appeared, but most of it was unreadable:
[Y̶o̶u̶ ̶m̶u̶s̶t̶ ̶g̶e̶t̶ ̶t̶o̶ ████████ b̶e̶f̶o̶r̶e̶ ████████ f̶i̶n̶d̶s̶ y̶o̶u̶]
"What is this?" I whispered, heart pounding.
The screen glitched again, then showed one final message:
[D̷o̷n̷'̷t̷ ̷t̷r̷u̷s̷t̷ ████████]
Then it vanished.
I stood there, stunned. The room was silent again, but my mind was racing. Someone—or something—was trying to reach me. But the message was broken, corrupted… or censored.
And whoever they were… they knew my name.
I stood there, still shaken from the glitch, the broken messages, the eerie silence that followed. My heart was pounding, but my brain was racing faster.
Then it hit me.
"This is just like those Korean web-comics," I muttered. "The ones where the guy gets powers through a system window and levels up in a world full of monsters."
I blinked. "Wait… if this is a system, then maybe…"
I cleared my throat, feeling ridiculous. "Status window."
Ding.
The screen reappeared instantly, hovering in front of me like it had been waiting.
[STATUS WINDOW – USER: VOID]
Level: 1
Health: 100/100
Stamina: 100/100
Strength: 6
Agility: 5
Intelligence: 7
Luck: 2
Power Sync: 12%
Skills: None
Titles: None
Achievements: None
I stared at the numbers, nodding slowly.
"Okay… not bad," I said to myself. "Strength six? That's probably above average. Intelligence seven? I mean, I did pass math last year. Luck two… eh, maybe it's bugged."
I had no idea what a normal stat looked like. No comparison. No baseline. But in my head, I was already imagining myself as the next overpowered protagonist.
"Skills: None," I read aloud. "That's temporary. I'm just a late bloomer."
I flexed my arm, which still ached from the fight. "Yeah. Definitely above average."
The screen pulsed once more, as if judging me silently.
[Note: Comparative data unavailable. Confidence level: 97%]
I grinned. "See? Even the system agrees."
Then the screen flickered again—just for a second. A line of text appeared and vanished too fast to read.
I frowned. "Wait, what was that?"
But the screen had already closed.
I was alone again. In my room. With a cracked mirror, a glitchy system, and a whole lot of misplaced confidence.
Want to follow this with a scene where he tries to "train" his powers based on those web-comic tropes? Or maybe Sonia walks in and roasts his delusions? We could go full comedy or twist it into something darker. Your call.
I was still riding the high of my "above average" stats when the screen dinged again—soft, cheerful, like a game notification.
A new window popped up, glowing gold around the edges.
[QUEST UNLOCKED]
Title: "Beginner's Protocol – Train to Become Powerful"
Objective: Increase Power Sync to 20%
Reward: Unknown
Time Limit: 3 Days
Status: Active
I blinked. "Train to become powerful?" I muttered. "Why?"
I looked around my room. No monsters. No dungeons. No portals opening in the sky. Just my cracked mirror, a half-eaten packet of chips, and a very confused teenager.
"What's the point?" I said. "This isn't some apocalypse webcomic. I'm not in Korea. There's no demon king waiting outside my window."
Then I remembered.
[WARNING: You are being monitored]
My stomach dropped.
I glanced at the mirror again. The crack had spread. My reflection flickered—just for a second. Like someone else was watching through it.
I turned back to the screen. The quest window pulsed gently, waiting.
Train to become powerful.
Not because I wanted to.
Because someone—or something—was watching.
And in three days… they might come back.
I stared at the quest window, still pulsing like it had secrets. "Increase Power Sync to 20%," it said, like that was a normal thing people did between homework and dinner. I tapped the objective line, hoping it would explain *how* I was supposed to train. The screen buzzed, blinked twice, and opened a new window titled:
> **[Training Method: Strength & Endurance – Beginner Level]**
Finally. Something useful.
The list popped up like a digital gym coach with no chill:
---
> **[Training Protocol: Strength & Endurance – Beginner Level]**
> **Step 1: Body-weight Circuit: 30 push-ups, 40 squats, 20 lunges per leg. *No whining* .**
> **Step 2: Stamina Drill: Jog in place for 10 minutes. *Furniture collisions are part of the experience* .**
> **Step 3: Core Routine: 25 sit-ups, 20 leg raises, 60-second plank. *Regret optional but expected* .**
> **Step 4: Recovery Stretching: Touch your toes (or wave at them), hamstring stretch, shoulder stretch. Hold each for 30–60 seconds.**
> **Step 5: Hydration Protocol: Drink 500ml of water. Not soda. Not juice. Just water. Seriously.**
> **Step 6: Collapse Gracefully: Lie on the floor. Reflect on your choices. Pretend this was fun.**
---
I blinked. "This is just PE class with a threatening tone."
Still, I rolled up my sleeves like I was about to duel gravity itself. The screen had given me a list—push-ups, squats, lunges, sit-ups, planks, stretches, hydration. Basically, a full-body betrayal. I started with push-ups, confident for the first three. By number ten, I was already bargaining with the universe. "If I survive this, I swear I'll stop skipping leg day," I whispered to no one in particular.
Squats came next. Forty of them. I did the first ten with enthusiasm, the next ten with regret, and the last twenty with the emotional energy of a man questioning every decision that led to this moment. My thighs were staging a protest. My knees were filing for early retirement.
Then lunges. Twenty per leg. I lunged like a warrior. A very tired, slightly wobbly warrior who kept forgetting which leg was supposed to go forward. By the fifteenth lunge, I was convinced my legs had developed independent personalities and were no longer speaking to me.
Jogging in place for ten minutes sounded easy—until minute three, when I realized my room was too small, my socks were too slippery, and my stamina was a myth. I bumped into my chair, tripped over a pillow, and nearly knocked over a lamp. The system didn't care. It just pulsed quietly, probably logging my clumsiness as "combat simulation."
Sit-ups were next. Twenty-five of them. I lay down, stared at the ceiling, and tried to remember how sit-ups worked. I did five, then paused to reflect on life. Did ten more, then paused to reflect on pain. Finished the last ten while pretending I was dodging invisible punches from my own self-doubt.
Leg raises? Betrayal in motion. I raised my legs like they weighed 200 kilos each. By the end, I was just flopping around like a fish trying to do Pilates.
Then came the plank. Sixty seconds. I held it for ten, blinked twice, and checked the time. Still ten seconds. Time had slowed down just to mock me. My elbows were shaking. My soul was considering escape.
Stretching was supposed to be the cool-down. Touch my toes? I waved at them from a respectful distance. Hamstring stretch? More like hamstring negotiation. Shoulder stretch? I just hugged myself and hoped it counted.
Finally, hydration. The system demanded 500ml of water. Not soda. Not juice. Just water. "Don't be dramatic," it said. I drank it like it was a potion of survival.
I collapsed on the floor, sweaty, sore, and spiritually offended. My arms felt like noodles, my legs were filing HR complaints, and my core had gone on strike somewhere around sit-up number twelve. I stared at the ceiling, wondering if this was how heroes were made—or just how teenagers got tricked into doing cardio.
"Okay," I panted. "Power Sync better be impressed."
The screen buzzed softly, like it was trying not to laugh. A new window popped up, glowing with the smug satisfaction of a gym coach who watched me trip over my own shoelaces.
> **[Power Sync Progress: 0.1%]**
I blinked. "Zero point one?"
I sat up, offended. "I did push-ups. I did lunges. I drank water. I *touched my toes*—well, I waved at them. That counts!"
The screen pulsed again, and another window appeared:
> **[Notice: Power Sync Progress is tied to Daily Quests]**
> **To improve your Sync rate, complete assigned physical or system-based tasks within 24 hours.**
> **Failure to complete a quest may result in random teleportation within a 200 km radius and mild disappointment.**
> **Next Daily Quest unlocks in: 00:00:00**
I stared at it. "Wait—*teleportation*?"
I looked around my room like it might suddenly eject me. "You're telling me if I skip leg day, I could wake up in a wheat field?"
The screen didn't respond. Just pulsed quietly, like it was judging me. Probably added a note: *User survived. Barely. Style points: zero. Threat level: mildly inconvenient.*
Day one: completed. Muscles: confused. Dignity: missing. Progress: microscopic. Motivation? Still here. And now… I had 24 hours to avoid becoming a surprise tourist.