Kaelen Drake had never thought he would die like this. Not today, not at seventeen, not before he had seen the last page of the novel he was reading or finished the thesis that had taken him months to perfect. The rain slicked streets of the city were empty, the neon reflections stretching along the asphalt like distorted mirrors. He had been walking home late, clutching his leather satchel, eyes downcast, immersed in thought about probabilities and human behavior, about plots and counterplots in the stories he read.
And then she appeared. A girl, no older than fifteen, darting across the road. He reacted before thinking, the weight of instinct heavier than any rational consideration. He sprinted, calculating angles, speed, time. The truck came faster than it should have, the screech of tires slicing through his focus. Pain, red and hot, exploded in his side as metal and concrete collided with his body. Everything went white.
The world felt unreal. Every sound was distant, every movement slowed. He wanted to live. He wanted to breathe. He wanted to see his father again, to sit at the dinner table and watch him laugh as he tried to explain the difference between entropy and chaos theory. His lungs burned, his vision swam. He thought he was dreaming.
[Choice: survival is possible. Accept system assistance. Body restoration and continued existence guaranteed. Decline: death is final.]
His mind froze. What kind of hallucination was this? He was dying. Hallucinations were supposed to be comforting, not giving choices like a program interface. But the clarity of the words, the flatness of the voice, the absolute absence of emotion, compelled him.
'Accept.'
[System activated. Core parameters established. Physical integrity restored. Consciousness preserved. Transmigration pending. Mission framework initializing.]
He blinked. Nothing hurt. No blood, no broken bones, no lingering pain. He was alive. His lungs filled with air with no effort. But his heart still raced. Something in the tone of the system, the monotone precision, told him this was not reality. Not entirely.
He barely had time to think. The world around him began to shift subtly. The rain became heavier, the lights sharper, colors too vivid for a normal night. He stumbled but caught himself on the wet pavement, looking around. Nothing had changed. Yet everything had.
[Transmigration will commence within sixty seconds. Prepare for reassignment.]
Kaelen pressed his hands to the ground, the asphalt cold and solid beneath his fingers. He wanted to call out, to scream, to demand explanation. But the voice did not respond to emotion. It did not care.
[Destination: Questism Universe. Goal: Assist in the recruitment of key allies to achieve mission objectives. Survival dependent on completion of one hundred consecutive missions. Failure to meet mission criteria results in immediate reassignment. Streak reset. Physical limitations maintained. Growth tracked.]
The world spun, his vision fractured into shapes, then reformed. The neon city, the asphalt, the rain, dissolved into the sharp lines of a classroom. The smell of paper and chalk filled his senses. He blinked at the board, at the students seated in rows. Everything was quiet. Too quiet.
Kaelen opened his eyes. A teacher's voice called his name. He squinted at the board. The question on the board made no sense at first but his mind moved automatically. He stood, walked toward the front of the class, and answered. The words formed clearly in his mouth even though he had never spoken this language before. His voice sounded steady. He turned back to his seat and sat, feeling an unusual attentiveness, as if every neuron in his brain had aligned itself.
The students around him looked strange. Faces were unfamiliar. Clothing was different. Something about the room was foreign and yet familiar. He blinked rapidly, taking in the details. The chalk dust in the air, the muted sunlight coming through the windows, the sound of pages flipping in textbooks. Everything was sharp, precise.
Then he saw it. A faint glow in the eyes of the boy across the room. The glow was soft, almost imperceptible, but it burned with focus. Kaelen recognized it immediately. Observation. Measurement. Analysis. The boy's gaze flickered over each student, pausing briefly on him before continuing.
Class continued. Kaelen kept his eyes on the board, though his awareness was higher now. He noticed subtle details. The faint hum of energy in the air. The small marks on the desks. The way light reflected off the windows at a certain angle. He catalogued it all quietly.
The bell rang. Students gathered their things. Kaelen remained seated, processing everything. The boy with the glowing eyes moved toward him. Step by step. Kaelen did not flinch. He did not react immediately. He simply watched.
"You," the boy said, stopping beside Kaelen's desk. His voice was calm. Certain. He did not ask a question. He made a statement. "You are coming with us."
Kaelen tilted his head slightly. "I do not understand," he said. His voice carried a measured calm.
"I will explain on the way," the boy replied. There was a flicker in his eyes. Something passed between them. Kaelen could not name it.
The boy gestured for him to stand. Kaelen rose, noting the precision in his own movements. No hesitation. No wasted energy. He followed. Every step was deliberate. Every calculation of distance, timing, balance, instinct, performed automatically.
Then the system spoke again. Flat. Monotone. Unfeeling.
[Mission parameters confirmed. Destination: Questism Universe. Objective: Integrate into Suhyeon Kim's crew. Assist in achieving mission goals. Survival requires completion of one hundred consecutive missions. Failure to meet criteria will result in immediate reassignment. Streak reset. Physical limitations remain. Growth tracked.]
Kaelen processed the information silently. He understood the weight of the words. The world would not stop. He would be judged by his actions. By his performance. By his ability to survive and achieve. There was no mercy. There was only precision.
He followed the boy down the corridor. Every movement was precise. Every sound, every echo, catalogued. The system did not explain what he could or could not do. It only stated facts. Only gave objectives. The rest he would discover himself.
The classroom, the sunlight, the chalk dust, and the students dissolved from his immediate perception. His mind focused on the objective. He would integrate. He would survive. He would complete the mission.
Kaelen did not speak. He did not hesitate. He only observed and moved forward.
The boy beside him glanced at him once, then continued walking. Kaelen matched his pace. A quiet resolve settled over him. The first step of the mission had begun.