He had awakened his past life's memories two days ago, on the night of his eighteenth birthday. It had come in the form of a vivid dream—strange, terrifying, and real. And when he woke the next morning, the chime of a system notification greeted him with words that changed everything:
[Congratulations! You have obtained the Ark System.]
At first, Ryoushi thought he was still dreaming. But the glowing screen hanging in midair, visible only to him, wasn't going away.
He experimented with it, and soon realized it really was almost exactly like Ark's HUD system—status screen, inventory, Engrams, equipment slots, everything. The difference, however, was clear the moment he looked at his own body.
His physique had changed. His muscles were sharper, his reflexes quicker, his stamina seemingly endless. His body had become the same as the humans inside Ark—a peak human specimen right from the start, as though nature itself had been cheated.
And yet, the Ark system wasn't the only gift. Alongside it, buried in his status screen, was something even stranger—his mutant ability.
At first, he hadn't thought much of it. It wasn't flashy, not something he could show off with explosions of fire or lightning. But when he read the details more carefully, his eyes had widened.
[Mutant Trait: Internal Absolute Defense.]
The words had burned themselves into his mind. No poison could enter his blood. No parasite could take root. No virus, no disease, no curse, no telepathic intrusion, no mind control, no dimensional phasing, no cosmic-scale energy manipulations inside his body.
His inner world was untouchable. He was a fortress on the inside, a vessel that could never be hijacked, broken, or corrupted.
Only the outside could hurt him. A blade, a bullet, claws, teeth—that was still danger. But everything else? He was untouchable.
Ryoushi had leaned back that day and laughed quietly to himself. "Not flashy, huh… but this is ridiculous."
Now, two days later, he sat cross-legged on his bed, pulling up his status again to check his progress.
---
[Status Window]
Name: Ryoushi Morikawa
Race: Mutated Ark Human
Level: 12
Vitals
HP: 220 / 220
Stamina: 200 / 200
Food: 86%
Water: 90%
Oxygen: 100%
Weight: – / ∞
Melee Damage: +15%
Movement Speed: +10%
Crafting Speed: MAX
Special Mutant Trait – Internal Absolute Defense (Passive/Active)
Current Status Effects:
Temperature: [Comfortable] (Room Temp 23°C)
Weather: [Stable]
Torpor: 0 / 100
Buff: None
Debuff: None
---
He stared at it for a while, then dismissed the screen with a flick of his hand. Mark's memories drifted into his mind—Mark who had never actually played Ark, but had spent hours memorizing creature names and taming guides from Dododex just for fun. Thanks to that, Ryoushi had knowledge he could use here.
And since Mark had been a native English speaker, Ryoushi now found the language flowing through his own thoughts as if it had always been his mother tongue.
"I owe you, Mark," Ryoushi muttered with a faint grin.
Then he stretched his body, trying to shake off the drowsiness lingering in his muscles.
"Guess I will start the day," Ryoushi muttered to himself as he got down from the bed.
He picked up the night pants he had tossed across the table the night before and slipped them on, then pulled a thin night shirt over his head.
He had gone to bed in nothing but his underwear—well, it couldn't be helped. Last night had been hot and stuffy, and even with the window cracked open, the air had stubbornly refused to cool down.
He glanced around the small room—the folded futon tucked in the corner, the faint hum of a streetlight outside, the early gray of morning filtering through the curtains.
Now dressed like a normal human being—without using the equipment slot function the Ark system provided—he opened the door quietly and stepped into the hallway. The house was still silent, the faint gray of morning light seeping in through the curtains. Everyone else was asleep.
His goal was simple: 'prepare breakfast before they woke up.'
After all, this wasn't his house. It was his friend's. He had been living here for years, taken in by his friend's mother—his "Aunt," though she wasn't related by blood.
She had always told him he didn't need to do the chores, that she could handle it, but Ryoushi couldn't bring himself to sit around while she carried the weight of everything.
His case wasn't like Mark's, who had lost his parents in a car accident. No, Ryoushi's story was different.
When he was eight, his parents had left for an urgent business trip overseas. They had asked his Aunt, their neighbor at the time, to look after him for a month. A month… that turned into ten years.
They never came back.
Instead, letters began arriving in the mail, always with money inside, always with the return address listed as some courier company. No way to write back, no explanation. Just letters that said, "Please take care of him."
Then, about five years ago, even that stopped. The last letter carried no money—only a cold line: "He's old enough now to earn for himself."
Ryoushi had been ready to take a part-time job then. He was even grateful for the excuse to become independent.
But his Aunt had refused, shaking her head firmly and telling him to just focus on his studies. "Don't waste your youth working for scraps," she had said. "Leave that burden to me."
And so, in a way, he had been abandoned. No relatives he knew of, no way to trace his parents, no explanations. Just silence.
But his friend's family never let him feel alone. Ten years under this roof had changed everything—it wasn't just " his friend's house" anymore. This was his family. And if it was his family, then he wasn't going to let his Aunt do everything by herself.
That was why he rose early, always before her.
Why he tiptoed down the stairs now, careful not to wake anyone, heading straight for the kitchen. Because if she caught him, she'd scold him again, tell him to stop. But as long as he was quick, he could get breakfast started before she stirred.
Ryoushi smiled faintly at the thought. "Let's see if I can beat her this morning too."
***
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