Alex had been a soldier once. Not the kind who came home to parades and medals, but the kind who came home with scars no one could see. Civilian life was supposed to be easier — quieter — but for him, it was just another battlefield. Bills, sleepless nights, and the gnawing emptiness that came when the adrenaline was gone.
The only thing that kept him tethered were the worlds between pages — the smell of old paperbacks, the glossy covers of comics, the impossible heroes who always found a way to win.
He loved games and thanks to his new online buddy, got hooked on novels and fanfiction.
Then came the day that changed everything. A screech of tires. A child frozen in the road. Alex didn't think — he moved. The impact was a thunderclap through his bones, and then… nothing.
No pain. No sound. No light.
The silence was absolute. Alex's eyes fluttered open to a dim, colorless ceiling. For a moment, he lay still, his mind sluggish, trying to piece together the last thing he remembered.
He pushed himself up. The movement sent a shiver through him — the floor beneath was ice‑cold, the kind of cold that bit straight into bone. His bare feet recoiled instinctively, but there was nowhere else to stand.
A tremor ran through him, not just from the chill but from the creeping thought that slithered into his mind: A morgue…? The sterile air. The stillness. The cold. It all fit.
He lifted his hands to rub warmth into his arms — and froze.
These weren't his hands. They were small. Smooth. The skin pale and unscarred, the fingers delicate, nails neatly trimmed. Not the calloused, weathered hands of a soldier who had carried rifles and bled in the dirt.
His breath quickened. "What…?" The word came out higher, softer — a child's voice.
His breath came faster now, each inhale sharp in the cold air. The room was bare — insultingly bare. A single bed sat against one wall, its thin mattress naked, no blanket, no pillow. The kind of bed you'd expect in a prison cell, not a hospital.
There were no windows. No lamps. No visible bulbs or fixtures. Yet the place wasn't dark — the walls and ceiling themselves seemed to glow faintly, a pale, ghostly light that reminded him of deep‑sea creatures or the eerie shimmer of phosphorescent algae. It was just enough to see by, but it made the shadows feel wrong.
He turned in a slow circle, searching for any sign of escape, and that's when he saw it.
A door. Or at least, something shaped like one — a seamless panel in the wall, smooth and metallic, without a handle or knob. Beside it, embedded into the wall, was a strange console.
It wasn't like any keypad or touchscreen he'd seen before. The surface was a dark, glassy black, faintly pulsing with light from within, as if it were breathing. Symbols — not letters, not numbers — drifted lazily across it, rearranging themselves in patterns he couldn't decipher.
Curiosity overpowered caution. Alex — or whoever he was now — reached out and pressed his palm against the strange console. The surface was cool and smooth, almost like glass.
A soft hiss broke the silence. The seamless panel in the wall split down the middle and slid apart with mechanical precision.
A wave of air rushed in, sharper and colder than the room he'd just left. It bit at his skin, making him flinch. He stepped through instinctively, his bare feet meeting an even icier floor.
The new chamber was circular, its walls curving away into a perfect ring. The same eerie, sourceless glow lit the space, but here it seemed dimmer, shadows pooling in the edges.
On one side, a rack of weapons stood in silent formation — swords, spears, halberds, and axes, their metal gleaming faintly in the cold light.
Opposite the weapons was a low, raised platform covered in smooth mats — a meditation area. No cushions, no warmth, just a place to sit and endure the chill.
Like the first room, there were no windows. No sign of the outside world.
The longer he stood there, the more the pieces refused to fit.
At first, waking on that cold floor, he'd thought it was a morgue. Then, maybe, some kind of hospital — a sterile, windowless ward for the dying. But now… now it felt different.
The air here was too sharp, too clean. The walls hummed faintly with hidden power. And those weapons — racks of swords, spears, and axes — didn't belong in any hospital. They didn't even belong in the same century as the softly glowing walls and seamless, handle‑less doors.
It was like stepping into a dream where the centuries had collided — medieval steel standing shoulder to shoulder with alien circuitry.
Alex's — no, his — breath misted in the cold. He rubbed his small hands together, still not used to the sight of them. Child's hands. Smooth, unscarred. Not the hands of the man who'd died in the street.
Reincarnated. The word had been circling in his mind since he'd first seen those hands. But where he was, or who he was now, remained a blank.
His gaze drifted to the two other doors in the curved wall. Both were as featureless as the first, each with its own strange console pulsing faintly in the dim light.
The nearest door slid open with a whisper, revealing a narrow space divided neatly in two. On the left, a row of compartments — like wardrobes — each holding neatly folded clothing in muted colors. On the right, a small shower stall and a set of utilities, all sleek and seamless, their design alien yet functional.
He stepped inside, the cold following him like a shadow.
At the far end stood a mirror — or something like one. Its surface wasn't glass, but a smooth, liquid‑looking panel that shimmered faintly, as though it were alive.
Alex approached slowly, his bare feet whispering against the floor. The panel brightened as he drew near, and then, without a sound, it showed him his reflection.
The breath caught in his throat.
A child stared back at him. Dark grey hair, messy and uneven as if it had grown without care. Eyes like molten silver, their unnatural gleam almost metallic. Skin so pale it seemed untouched by sunlight. By his guess, no more than forty to forty‑two inches tall. Five years old, at most.
He lifted a trembling hand, and the boy in the mirror did the same. The fingers were thin, delicate — the same hands he'd seen earlier, but now framed by a face that was not his own.
The truth settled over him like the cold in the air.
He rummaged through the wardrobe, fingers brushing over neatly folded stacks of clothing until they found something heavier — a long, dark coat and a pair of sturdy boots. The fabric was strange to the touch, smooth yet dense, almost humming faintly with warmth.
He slipped the coat over his small frame, the hem brushing just above his knees. The boots were a perfect fit, their inner lining soft against his bare feet.
The change was immediate. The sting of the cold air — that biting, needling chill that had been gnawing at him since he woke — melted away as if it had never been there. The air still felt cool, but no longer hostile. It was like stepping from winter into the calm shade of early spring.
He exhaled slowly, tension easing from his shoulders. For the first time since opening his eyes in this place, he felt… not safe, exactly, but less exposed.
His gaze drifted back toward the circular chamber. The weapons. The meditation platform.
Whatever this place was, it wasn't meant for comfort. The bare rooms, the biting cold, the racks of weapons — it all felt deliberate, like someone had stripped away every softness to leave only what was necessary.
A training ground. That was the closest thing his mind could grasp. Not the kind with cheering instructors and padded mats, but the kind where you either adapted… or you broke.
The coat and boots dulled the cold, but they didn't erase the unease crawling under his skin. Every surface here was too clean, too precise. The air was still, heavy, as if the walls themselves were watching.
Jin was still turning over the pieces in his mind — the cold rooms, the weapons, the strange consoles — when the final door slid open without warning.
A man strode in, his steps sharp and purposeful, the air seeming to shift around him. "Jin. You are late."
He was tall — impossibly tall to Jin's small frame — at least six and a half feet, his black robe flowing with each movement. His hair was the same dark grey as Jin's, but neatly trimmed, every strand in place. His eyes were not silver, but a deep, storm‑cloud grey that seemed to cut straight through him with a single glance.
And then Jin saw it — the thing that froze him in place.
Floating above the man's head, clear as day, were glowing words:
Xue Li [LVL ???]
The sight stole his voice. His mind screamed questions, but his mouth stayed shut.
Xue Li's expression tightened at Jin's gawking. "Training ground. Five minutes." His voice was cold, clipped — the kind of tone that didn't invite argument.
He turned to leave, muttering under his breath. Words like leech and useless drifted back to Jin, each one landing heavier than the last.
The door slid shut behind him, leaving Jin alone again.
Jin didn't take the man's muttered insults to heart. If anything, they gave him something solid to hold onto — a name. Xun Jin. That was who he was now.
The thought had barely settled when a sharp ding cut through the cold air.
A translucent blue panel blinked into existence before his eyes, floating in the air as if projected from nowhere. The text was crisp, glowing faintly against the dim light of the room:
[New Mission – Be at training ground in time]
Description: Xue Li came here with annoyance to make sure you attend training in the special Xue Family training ground.
Task: Be there in 5 minutes.
Reward: 50 EXP.
Jin stared at it, his silver eyes reflecting the glow. The words hung there, waiting, as if the world itself wouldn't move forward until he acknowledged them.
His pulse quickened. This wasn't just some hallucination — the panel felt real, as tangible as the cold floor beneath his boots.
Something else began to gnaw at the edge of his awareness. His thoughts were… sharper. Faster. At first, he'd chalked it up to the new body — a child's brain, flexible and quick to adapt. But no. This was more than that.
It was like watching dominoes fall in his mind, one revelation knocking into the next. And then, without him even speaking, the thought formed: Status.
The world seemed to pause. A blue panel shimmered into existence before his eyes, as if it had always been there, just waiting for him to notice.
[Status Panel]
Name: Xue Jin (Alex Thomas)
Occupation: The Gamer
Level: 1
HP: 50/50
MP: 150/150
Strength: 4
Dexterity: 4
Vitality: 5
Intelligence: 15
Wisdom: 25
Luck: 5
Jin's jaw went slack. "...Damn my monkey ass," he muttered, half‑laughing, half‑reeling. How could he have forgotten? Every reincarnator's story had one thing in common — the cheat.
And his? His was the holy grail. The Gamer. A god‑tier ability that turned life into a game, with all the rules, stats, and exploits that came with it.
His pulse quickened, a mix of trepidation and exhilaration. If this was real — and every instinct screamed that it was — then the only limit was how far he was willing to push it.
Xue Li was long gone, the echo of his footsteps swallowed by the cold corridors.
Jin forced himself to think — really think — the way his sharpened mind now allowed. The mission panel… there had to be more to it. He willed it back into view, scanning the text. That's when he noticed it: a faint icon in the corner, pulsing softly.
Directional Guide: ON
The moment he focused on it, a thin, glowing arrow appeared in the air before him, pointing down the hall. It hovered just above his head, shifting smoothly whenever he moved his head.
A grin tugged at his lips. "Well… that's convenient."
He took off at a sprint. The cold air burned in his lungs, his small legs pumping hard, boots thudding against the floor. The corridors blurred past — turns, intersections, all navigated without hesitation as the arrow adjusted in real time.
By the time he skidded to a halt, chest heaving, less than three minutes had passed. And there he was.
Xue Li stood in the center of a wide, open space — the training ground. His towering frame was as imposing as before, black robe still as a shadow, those storm‑grey eyes locking onto Jin the instant he appeared.
Jin straightened instinctively, forcing his breathing under control.
[Dextarity + 1] Jin Smiles that.
Xue Li's storm‑grey eyes locked onto Jin the moment he arrived, a deep scowl cutting across his face.
'If not for my… situation in the Second Sanctuary, Xue Li thought bitterly, I, a Sacred‑Blood Evolver, would never have accepted the task of training this useless boy. A child who, even in a year, couldn't master the first layer of the Frozen Sutra…'
His gaze swept over Jin's small frame, noting the quick, shallow breaths. 'Out of breath in minutes. Disappointing.
After today's session, I'll report to the Dean Xue Wu. This trash has no reason to remain in the Xue Family's training ground.
Jin didn't hear the words, but he didn't need to — the man's expression said enough.
A soft ding chimed in his mind.
[Mission Complete – Be at training ground in time]
Reward: 50 EXP
EXP: 50/100
The panel faded, leaving him standing in the middle of the training ground. The air here was even colder than the corridors, the chill seeping into his bones despite the coat. Around him, the space was littered with training tools — climbing walls, balance beams, weighted sleds, and obstacle courses marked by low hurdles and rope nets.
Xue Li's voice cut through the cold like a blade. "Run the obstacle course. High jumps. Climb the wall. Then repeat. Basic drills. Nothing complicated."
Nothing complicated for a normal trainee, maybe. But Jin's small body and low stats meant every task would be a grind.
Jin flexed his fingers, still catching his breath from the sprint. 'One point in Dexterity… from just that?'
He could feel it — not in some vague, imagined way, but in the way his body responded. His balance felt steadier, his steps lighter, the cold air no longer biting quite as sharply at his lungs. It was subtle, but undeniable.
'So this is it… real‑time improvement. Not weeks of training, not months of grinding — instant, tangible growth. The Gamer system really is a beast. '
A slow grin crept across his face. 'If a short run can do this, then what's going to happen when I push myself for hours? Days?'
The thought sent a thrill through him. This wasn't just training anymore — this was leveling up, and every bead of sweat was now worth something measurable.
He rolled his shoulders, feeling the coat shift against his skin. The stiffness in his legs was already fading, replaced by a faint hum of energy.