O**Chapter 1**.
***
My head was pounding. Not the "I-had-one-too-many-last-night" kind of pounding, but the "I-think-someone-just-used-my-skull-as-a-djembe-drum" kind of pounding.
I groaned, forcing my eyes open. The light stung. "Ugh, did I pass out at my desk again? I told myself not to grind for that legendary loot past 4 AM..."
Blinking away the blurriness, my surroundings came into focus. This wasn't my room. My room was a monument to chaos: pizza boxes, energy drink cans, and a laundry pile that was slowly achieving sentience. This room was… clean. Alarmingly clean. Beige walls, a simple wooden desk, a closet with a door that actually closed. It was depressingly normal.
"Where the hell am I? A particularly boring IKEA display?"
Then it hit me. Not a thought. A freight train of information, images, and sensations that plowed into my brain with the subtlety of a wrecking ball.
*Memories.*
*Another life.*
*A face in the mirror that was mine, but... better.*
*The same name: Ron Sanches. But the resume was drastically different.*
I clutched my head, a strangled gasp escaping my lips. It was like downloading a 100-terabyte file in two seconds. The firewall of my old reality crumbled, and the new one installed itself with brutal efficiency.
I saw it all. I wasn't *just* Ron Sanchez, the 24-year-old gamer and professional procrastinator. I was now also Ron Sanchez, an 18-year-old orphan in a world that had decided to take the "hardcore" server setting a little too seriously.
One hundred years ago, the world cracked. Literally. Spatial fractures—tears in reality itself—started appearing at random, vomiting out every fantasy RPG monster you could imagine, from slobbering goblins to mountain-sized ogres. The "Spatial Cataclysm." It wasn't a quiet affair. Fifty percent of humanity wiped out in the first decade. One billion lives, gone. The old world, with its borders and squabbles, ended there.
What emerged from the ashes was the Union, a single global government with one purpose: don't let the demons eat us all.
And humanity, pushed to the brink, fought back the only way it could: it evolved. On their eighteenth birthday, every person now undergoes an "Awakening." It's like a cosmic lottery, and the prizes are… professions.
The information sorted itself in my head, like a morbidly exciting PowerPoint presentation.
**Slide 1: Power Professions.** The big one. The rockstars. These are the combat classes. Think Pyromancer, Blade Master, Arcane Archer. But here's the kicker: it's not just about *what* you get, but *how good* it is. A Pyromancer could be a world-saving S-Rank, summoning suns to vaporize demon lords, or an E-Rank who can barely light a cigarette on a windy day. The class name is the same, the rank is everything. These awakened are called **Hunters**.
**Slide 2: Lifestyle Professions.** The support cast. Blacksmiths, Alchemists, Architects, even Chefs. Absolutely vital to society—you try fighting a hellhound on an empty stomach—but not exactly front-line material. Still, a high-ranked Blacksmith can forge gear that makes an S-Rank Hunter even more ridiculously overpowered.
**Slide 3: Unique Professions.** The legendaries. The ultra-rare drops. These are one-of-a-kind classes that don't fit any mold. The most famous one is a Hunter known as the "Enchantress." She's not *a* mage; she *is* magic itself, able to enchant and empower anything she touches. She's a living cheat code.
The cracks themselves are ranked too, from F (a few pesky goblins in a back alley) to S (a city-leveling apocalypse event). The system is simple, brutal, and terrifyingly familiar to anyone who's ever grinded an MMO.
The memory download finished. I was left sitting on the edge of the bed, breathing heavily.
"So," I said to the empty, beige room. "I got Isekai'd. Cool. Great. Awesome. Just casually playing *Demon Souls 7* and now I'm in the *actual* demon souls edition. And my character got a graphics update." I stumbled to the mirror. Yeah, same messy black hair, same lanky build, but the eyes were sharper, the jawline more defined. "Huh. Parallel universe me moisturizes. Good for him."
The initial shock began to recede, replaced by a cold, sinking feeling. My old life... my family, my friends... my girlfriend, Lisa. We'd just ordered a pizza. Extra pepperoni. Did it ever arrive? Was she wondering why I vanished from the face of the Earth? A wave of homesickness so intense it felt physical washed over me.
I had a life. A good one. And it was traded for this... this death world where my biggest concern was no longer a laggy internet connection, but a laggy spatial rift opening over my head.
I was alone here. No family. Just me, this apartment, and a date with destiny.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow is my Awakening.
A hysterical laugh bubbled up in my throat. "No pressure, Ron. Just go get a superpower. No biggie. Hopefully it's something useful. Please, oh please, don't let me awaken as an E-Rank [Professional Couch Potato]. Although, to be fair, I do have prior experience..."
My head throbbed again, the exhaustion from the mental onslaught pulling me down. The emotional whiplash was too much. Fear, confusion, a stupid bit of excitement, and crushing sadness all fought for dominance.
I fell back onto the bed, the cheap springs squeaking in protest.
"My head hurts..." I mumbled into the pillow. "This is just a dream. A weird, detailed, high-definition dream. I'll wake up, my pizza will be cold, and Lisa will be mad I fell asleep..."
The thought was a comforting lie. And clinging to it, I fell into a deep, uneasy sleep, dreading the sunrise.