The screech of tires cut through the rain like nails on a chalkboard.
Alex Chen had exactly 2.7 seconds to process what was happening. His engineering brain automatically calculated velocity and impact force even as his textbook went flying. The bus lurched sideways.
Someone screamed.
Through the rain-streaked window, two headlights rushed toward them like the eyes of some mechanical demon, and Alex thought, *Well, shit. This is how I die.*
Not in some heroic way. Not saving anyone or doing something meaningful. Just because some idiot ran a red light on a Tuesday night while Alex was cramming for his thermodynamics final.
The truck hit them at exactly 47 miles per hour.
His brain supplied the number helpfully even as the world exploded into twisted metal and breaking glass.
Then everything went black.
And then...
...
"Ow. Ow. Ow."
Alex opened his eyes and immediately regretted it. The sky was wrong—not blue or gray, but this weird twilight purple that made his head throb.
And there were islands.
Floating islands.
Just... hanging in the air like someone had decided gravity was more of a suggestion than a law.
"What the actual hell?"
He tried to sit up and nearly face-planted. His body felt all wrong—lighter, smaller, like he'd shrunk in the wash. His hands looked like a teenager's hands. Smooth. No calluses from shop class or the scar from when he'd been an idiot with a soldering iron.
"Oh good, you're awake. I was starting to wonder if your brain had leaked out."
Alex spun around so fast he almost fell over.
A woman stood there watching him with the kind of expression teachers get when they catch you sleeping in class. She looked maybe thirty, with short red hair and wearing robes that belonged in a fantasy movie. Dark blue, almost black, with silver threading that actually glowed.
Because of course it did. Because apparently his life had become an anime.
"I'm Professor Crimson," she said, like that was supposed to mean something. "Combat Instructor at Valtara Academy."
She paused, studying him with those sharp eyes.
"You're Alexander Chen. Recently deceased in what I believe you'd call a 'vehicular collision.'" She said it like she was ordering coffee. "Congratulations on your reincarnation. Try not to waste it."
"Reincarnation." Alex stared at her. "Right. Okay. Sure. Because that's totally how physics works."
Her laugh was about as warm as liquid nitrogen.
"Physics? Oh honey, physics is adorable. Quaint, even. But here?" She gestured at the floating islands with their impossible bridges of solid light. "Here we work with slightly different rules."
Alex looked around properly for the first time.
The islands weren't just floating—they were *busy*. Students walked around on platforms that definitely shouldn't be able to support their weight. Some of them literally walking through the air like it was solid ground. One kid flew past on what looked like a sword.
An actual sword. As transportation.
"I'm having a psychotic break," Alex said. "That's what this is. I'm in a coma and my brain is making this up."
"Could be," Professor Crimson said cheerfully. "But if you are, then coma-you is about to fail your entrance evaluation and get expelled into the Void. So maybe play along?"
"The what now?"
"The Void. Endless nothingness. Very boring. Extremely permanent."
She checked something that looked like a pocket watch but with too many hands.
"Nine minutes until evaluations begin. I'd run if I were you."
And then she just... left. Walked away like she hadn't just told him he might get fed to some cosmic garbage disposal.
Alex stood there for a moment, trying to process. This was either the most elaborate hallucination in medical history, or he was actually dead. Reincarnated. In what appeared to be Magic Hogwarts: Floating Edition.
"Well," he said to nobody in particular, "this is not how I imagined my Tuesday going."
...
The evaluation courtyard looked like someone had dumped every fantasy trope into a blender and hit frappe.
There was the silver-haired girl with violet eyes standing by herself, dark energy crackling around her fingers like she was cosplaying as a Final Fantasy boss. The huge guy who looked like he bench-pressed small cars for fun. The tiny girl with glasses frantically writing in a glowing notebook.
Because apparently even magic academies had the studious type.
Alex felt like he'd wandered into the wrong anime. These people looked like they belonged here—powerful, confident, probably born knowing how to shoot fireballs and commune with dragons or whatever.
He was a mechanical engineering major who spent his free time playing mobile games and arguing about Star Wars sequels on Reddit.
"Attention, first-years!"
Professor Crimson's voice cut through the chatter like a fire alarm. Everyone shut up instantly, which told Alex everything he needed to know about her reputation.
"Welcome to your entrance evaluation," she continued, that same cheerful tone that probably meant several people were about to die. "You have twenty-four hours to complete the Tutorial Dungeon in teams of four."
She paused, letting that sink in.
"Failure results in immediate expulsion. Death inside the trial causes permanent injury to your real body. Severe injuries may result in—"
"Yeah, yeah, we get it," snapped the silver-haired girl. "Death is bad. Can we move on?"
Professor Crimson's smile could have frozen hellfire. "Elena Nightshade, I presume. Charming as always."
Her eyes swept the crowd.
"Form your teams. Choose wisely. The Academy doesn't resurrect the stupid."
That's when the panic hit.
Alex watched other students immediately start forming groups, comparing abilities, discussing strategies like they'd been doing this their whole lives. Which, knowing his luck, they probably had.
A translucent screen popped up in front of his face, making him stumble backward.
Text scrolled across it like a video game interface. Something about authority systems and power levels and abilities he didn't have. The words "Pathetic" featured prominently.
"Oh, come on," Alex muttered. "Even the magic system is insulting me."
"Talking to yourself already? That's not encouraging."
Alex looked up to find the silver-haired girl—Elena—standing in front of him. Up close, she was even more intimidating. Not just because of the whole 'dark magic crackling around her fingers' thing, but because she had that particular brand of confidence that came from never doubting you were better than everyone else.
"I'm Elena Nightshade," she said, like her name should mean something. "Noble family, dark magic specialization, top scores in preliminary evaluations."
"Uh. Alex Chen. I... died in a bus crash?"
Elena's violet eyes narrowed. "What's your combat specialty?"
"My what now?"
"Magic type. Weapon proficiency. *Something* useful." She was looking at him like he was a particularly disappointing birthday present.
"I'm good at math?" Alex offered weakly.
The silence stretched just long enough to be really, really awkward.
"Perfect," Elena said finally. "We get the dead weight."
"Hey now," rumbled a voice like distant thunder.
The huge guy stepped up beside them, offering Alex a hand the size of a dinner plate. "I'm Marcus Ironwill. Don't mind Elena—she's been nobility her whole life. Doesn't understand us regular folk."
Alex shook Marcus's hand and immediately wondered if his bones would survive the experience. "Thanks, I think?"
"Marcus specializes in body cultivation and weapon mastery," Elena said, apparently deciding to just power through the team-building process. "I handle dark magic—illusions, fear effects, shadow manipulation. We need a fourth."
"Um."
The tiny girl with glasses appeared beside Marcus like a nervous ghost. "I'm Lily Starweaver. I know support magic and theoretical analysis."
She pushed her glasses up nervously.
"Also, um, I've read about Authority Systems. They're supposed to be legendary artifacts that let you absorb powers from completed trials."
Elena's expression shifted from dismissive to interested. "Supposed to be?"
"Well, they're mostly theoretical. But if Alex has one..." Lily glanced at him. "That could be really valuable. Assuming he doesn't die before figuring out how to use it."
"Gee, thanks," Alex said. "Really feeling the team spirit here."
Thunder cracked overhead.
Reality twisted like someone was adjusting the contrast on the universe, and a doorway opened in front of them. Beyond the threshold, Alex could see stone corridors lit by flickering torches. The air that drifted out smelled like old dungeons and bad decisions.
A voice from nowhere announced something about tutorial dungeons and time limits and how death was bad, actually.
"We heard you the first time," Elena snapped.
She looked at their little group—herself, Marcus, Lily, and Alex.
"Well, this is what we're working with. Try not to get us all killed, Alex."
"Why is everyone assuming I'm going to get you killed?" Alex asked, but Elena was already walking toward the portal.
"Because," Marcus said, not unkindly, "you look like someone who's never held a weapon in your life."
"I haven't," Alex admitted.
"And you probably don't know any magic."
"Not even a little bit."
"And you just got reincarnated, so you're still figuring out your new body."
"Yeah, that's... accurate."
Marcus clapped him on the shoulder, nearly knocking him over. "Don't worry about it. We've all got to start somewhere."
Lily gave him an encouraging smile. "Besides, if you really do have an Authority System, you might surprise us. The theoretical applications are quite fascinating."
Alex looked at the portal, then at his teammates. Elena, who clearly thought he was useless. Marcus, who seemed nice but probably wouldn't hesitate to leave him behind if things went bad. Lily, who was treating him like an interesting research project.
Behind them, Professor Crimson called out one last piece of encouragement: "Remember, children—the Academy only remembers the strong. Everyone else becomes a cautionary tale!"
"Well," Alex said, stepping toward the portal, "at least if I die horribly, it'll make a good story."
The magic screen flickered with helpful information about survival probabilities and tactical advantages. Even his mystical interface was being a smartass.
Alex followed his team into the dungeon, the portal sealing behind them with ominous finality.
In the sudden quiet, he could hear water dripping somewhere in the darkness ahead. The distant sound of something moving in the depths.
And underneath it all, the quiet hum of possibilities.
Because for all his fear and confusion, Alex was starting to realize something important.
He might not know magic or swordplay, but he understood how things worked. How they were built. How forces distributed through structures. How systems could be exploited if you understood their underlying principles.
Even fantasy dungeons had to follow certain rules.
And Alex was really, really good at finding the loopholes.