"Gusto kriminell, you scored a 21. At this rate, you're going to fail math. Do you realize how much this will affect you?"
In front of me, my math teacher sat at his desk, staring at my test paper while adjusting his silver glasses.
The classroom seats were empty, and it was just the two of us—me and the teacher.
"I've heard your grades in other subjects aren't exactly stellar either. Do you want to repeat the year or what? You're ruining your own future."
The teacher kept rambling, but my attention was fixed on his bald head. I considered leaning closer to see if I could catch my reflection in it, but he'd probably notice.
I didn't pay much attention to his words. I'd heard the same lecture countless times before.
It seemed the teacher was worried I'd drag down the class's average grade with my scores.
It might be kind of fun to see this annoying teacher despair over his own failure, but I didn't want to fail either.
"Hmph, you have a high IQ, but you don't know how to use it," the math teacher sighed, rubbing his shiny bald head.
I thought about what he said. He wasn't wrong. I scored 149 on an IQ test, which didn't just mean I was smart—it meant I was practically a genius.
But a high IQ doesn't automatically make you a genius. In fact, ever since I started high school, I've struggled with focus, my mind constantly juggling multiple thoughts at once.
When you hear someone can think about several things at the same time, it sounds impressive. But in reality, it's the opposite—it makes it hard to focus properly on any one thing.
Even now, instead of listening to the teacher's lecture about diligence, I was more focused on his bald head. Half the reason, of course, was that I didn't care about what he was saying.
After about half an hour of being scolded, I walked out of the classroom, closed the door, and hurriedly left the school.
I walked down a wide, crowded street filled with people. The road was packed with cars and trucks. It was Monday, so the traffic was heavy. I stood at a traffic light, and when it turned green, I quickly dashed to the other side of the road.
'I wonder what Mom made for lunch today,' I thought to myself.
My mom was an amazing cook, especially when it came to chicken. I hoped for chicken every day.
But right now, I wished my parents weren't home. I didn't want to show them my test score. I'd be the one getting eaten alive.
I sighed deeply as I walked toward home, but something unexpected shifted my train of thought.
[Rehabilitation Program is about to begin.]
"What…"
Before I could step back in fear from the sudden mechanical voice, I looked around and found myself inside a dark building. I saw unfamiliar patterns through the dim light. The interior was completely different from any building I'd seen on Earth. My mouth dropped open instinctively at the sight of something I'd never encountered before. I'd never been inside a pyramid, but this is probably what it would feel like.
I blinked, overwhelmed by the surreal situation. Just moments ago, I was walking down the street.
"What in the world happened…"
And what was that mysterious voice?
My legs started trembling, unable to process the situation. Finding myself in a place I'd never seen before was naturally disorienting.
The atmosphere here was terrifying. Maybe it was because the surroundings felt like a scene from a horror movie, but everyone here seemed terrified too.
I looked at the men and women around me. There were probably 80 to 100 people here.
Many of them looked dangerous—some covered in tattoos, others looking like hardened mercenaries. Only a few seemed ordinary.
Still, most of them acted like me, looking around with dumbfounded expressions.
Before I could think further, I heard whispers around me.
"What is this place?"
Don't ask me. I don't know either.
"I… is anyone else here? What is this place… and why are there swords, shields, and weapons?"
Would we be standing here like this if we knew? It seems everyone's in the same situation as me.
"Excuse me! Is anyone there? Hello!"
People started talking and acting in their own ways. One person was sitting on the floor, another pinching their cheeks to check if they were dreaming.
'This isn't a dream.'
It wasn't a dream, and I wasn't alone. Nothing felt strange—everything felt real.
As I swallowed hard, the mechanical voice echoed again in the mysterious prison.
[Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to the Rehabilitation Program. Here, it will be determined whether you are worthy of living or not.]
"What is this? What are you talking about?"
"Is this some hidden camera prank? I'll sue you!"
"Stop messing around and come out, you bastards!"
"I'm calling the police, you hear me?"
[Everyone here has committed at least an 'inhumane' level crime. Therefore, you've been given a chance to atone for your unpunished crimes by becoming 'heroes.' However, only a few of you will be granted the opportunity for rehabilitation.]
"What the hell are you talking about?!"
[Please pay attention to what I'm about to say. It is directly related to your survival.]
When I heard the word 'survival' in this strange room, I snapped back to reality.
[I'll repeat: only a select few will leave here alive, and they will be eligible to proceed to the world where you will be rehabilitated.]
"What… are you saying you're going to kill us or something?"
[Listen carefully. What I'm about to tell you concerns your survival. These will be essential elements for moving forward. This is not a dream—it is the reality you face. I advise against denial. As your guide in this hero selection process, my role is to assist you all.]
"Stop playing around! Damn it!"
"Please, let me out. Please!"
I heard many voices, but the mechanical voice continued explaining calmly.
[I will begin the guide. First, you are all standing at the designated starting point, a waiting area before the hero selection process begins. You can think of this place as a waiting room. At the starting point, you will find the basic items you'll need—water, food, and weapons you'll use from now on. All the weapons here are of the 'common' type, so use them carefully.]
My attention was drawn to some objects. In the corner of the room, there was a leather flask, not a plastic bottle like you'd find on Earth.
But that wasn't the only thing that caught my eye—the weapons stood out even more. Bows and arrows, swords and shields, spears and maces—all common weapons from the Middle Ages.
This is real.
They weren't fake. Most of the weapons were either cracked or old, but they looked sharp.
I began to grasp the reality of my predicament.
[With these weapons, you will be able to protect yourselves. For your information, the goal of this process is survival and self-defense. In addition to you, there are also creatures known as magical beasts that will target you, and you will need to fight them.]
It felt like something out of a fantasy novel.
Funnily enough, the people's screams quieted as they focused on the echoing voice. But some began trembling in fear.
[Your strength may not be enough to fight them. But don't worry, that's not the only thing prepared for you.]
"What's happening in the world…"
[You are all criminals chosen to atone for your sins. You've come here from different places with different traits. This place enhances those traits and helps you grow. If you say 'Status Window,' you'll understand what I mean.]
I didn't say 'Status Window.' I thought it was better to act cautiously in such an unknown situation.
Luckily, at that moment, someone muttered, "Status Window."
"Kya!"
I saw a woman scream toward the sky, and people stared at something invisible with shocked expressions.
[Status Window is an indicator that displays your condition. Based on your efforts, your stats will rise or fall. Next comes your class, but you won't receive one until the hero selection process is complete. Each of you has been granted a 'special talent.' This talent may be shared by several of you or unique to one. The level of your talent was determined based on the severity of the crime you committed. The worse your crime, the lower the talent rank you were given. Those who committed crimes beyond the 'inhumane' level will receive an E-rank talent. Of course, to make things significantly unfair, those at the inhumane level will only receive a D-rank talent. The lowest rank here is E. There are many ways to grow, and the direction of your growth depends on your choices.]
"Oh…"
[Your class will be determined based on the results of the hero selection process.]
"Class."
The more I listened, the more it felt like a story I'd heard before. It was like a video game.
If monsters really existed and targeted this place, most people would likely avoid working together, especially if their abilities were lower, as they'd have to protect others.
Moreover, according to the mechanical voice, everyone here was a criminal who had committed past sins.
That means they're the scum of the earth.
Not necessarily all of them—some might have committed crimes unintentionally, and others might regret their actions.
But according to the voice, everyone here committed an 'inhumane' level crime. While I didn't fully understand what that meant, it likely referred to something extremely serious.
But wait.
If that's true…
Then why am I here?
I'm just an ordinary high school student. I've never committed a crime in my life. The worst thing I've done was use my dad's credit card without permission, and that was just once.
This doesn't make sense.
I noticed a few people who looked around my age or even younger. It seems whoever designed this damned game didn't care about age.
The question is whether I'm the only one who ended up here by mistake or if there's someone else.
Maybe I should tell the mechanical voice it made a mistake, but the people around me would hear, and it's better to stay as mysterious as possible.
Damn it, I'm starting to focus on other things and overlook the important stuff again.
For now, I need to focus on figuring out my current abilities and how I can survive with them.
I spoke immediately.
"Status Window."
[Name - Gusto kriminell]
[Title - None]
[Age - 15]
[Class - None]
[Stats]
[Strength - F]
[Agility - F]
[Endurance - D]
[Magic - 0]
[Inevitability Power - None]
The screen that suddenly appeared in front of me was unfamiliar.
I didn't really know if these stats were good or not.
'inevitability?'
Looking back at the words on the screen, I remembered there was a phrase, 'inevitability Power,' printed there.
Other things like magic and strength were understandable to me since they resembled systems in novels, but inevitability Power wasn't entirely clear from its name.
And strangely, the mechanical voice explained almost everything except this feature.
It felt like I was in a game. As I quietly opened my mouth, I heard the mechanical voice again.
[You will learn about your special talents through the Status Window. These talents can significantly affect your growth path, so please pay attention to the available options.]
I couldn't focus on its words because I saw white text at the bottom of the Status Window.
[Talent - F]
'Huh?'
I stared at the white text with a lifeless expression.
'Wait a second, didn't it say earlier that the lowest talent rank here is E? Why do I have an even lower talent?'
I wasn't sure how to process this or if the situation was even real, but it definitely wasn't good.
And the frustrating part was that I couldn't even ask about it.
I sighed miserably and tapped on the talent.
[Talent - F - Observation]
[Allows you to think slightly deeper about every event, action, form, and everything in general.]
"…"
'No thanks, I'd like a redraw,' I really wanted to say, though it wouldn't change anything.
This ability is useless in combat.
And even if observation is important for survival, the effect of this talent isn't significant.
I tried not to show my disappointment so the people around me wouldn't notice, sighed, and tried to accept it. After all, having something is better than nothing.
Everyone's reactions were different. Some were discussing with others, some men were either tinkering with their swords or looking for allies. I wasn't sure what was happening, but it seemed they were searching for ways to survive since danger was near. There was a woman crying on the floor, a middle-aged man shouting continuously, and even a kid who looked like a student like me.
I wanted to collapse on the ground and scream too, but I didn't have time for that.
The voice said survival was the goal.
'Survival.'
I needed to survive. Whether this situation was fake or real, I'd do my best.
"…What about my parents…"
When I remembered my family waiting for me at home, I bit my lip hard.
'I have to go back, no matter what it takes.'