Earth,Brazil,São Paulo.
In the very bustling city of São Paulo, amidst the endless hum of traffic and the neon glare of billboards, there stood a towering skyscraper that pierced the sky like a silver blade. This was no ordinary building. Within its walls operated The Amphibian Games, the company behind one of the most revolutionary and popular games of the 21st century—"The Myth of Gods."
The building buzzed with energy, the constant click of keyboards, muted discussions, and the low hum of VR machines creating worlds that blurred the line between reality and legend. Lucas Silva, a mythology enthusiast and researcher, walked through the sleek lobby, his eyes tracing the holographic displays of ancient gods, monsters, and epic battles. For Lucas, this was his dream come true, a place where he can use his myth related knowledge for the development of the game and help it reach more users.
After a long day at The Amphibian Games, Lucas Silva finally stepped out of the skyscraper at 6:30 p.m. The streets of São Paulo buzzed with life, neon lights reflecting on wet asphalt from an earlier drizzle. Sliding into his BMW sedan, Lucas grabbed his phone and froze for a moment—today was Sofia's birthday.
Not his niece by blood, but the three-year-old daughter of his best friend Rafael, she adored Lucas. Tonight was a grand celebration, and he was expected to help with preparations—decorations, games, and all the little tasks Rafael and his wife couldn't manage alone. He smiled, thinking about the chaos and laughter awaiting him.
Lucas drove off at a moderate speed, smoothly navigating the crowded streets. Approaching a busy intersection where four roads met, he noticed a car suddenly dart across in front of him, moving faster than usual. He swerved just in time to avoid a collision. Lucas exhaled sharply, letting out a nervous chuckle. "Good Lord… I didn't want to die just yet," he thought, shaking his head and not realising that his heartbeat was so fast it looked like his heart would pop out from his chest.
But fate was cruelly impatient. The same speeding car—a sleek black vehicle—which zipped past him, heading from his left direction to right side. As it passed, the thief inside leaned out the window, firing a gun at the approaching police officers. Bullets ricocheted, glass shattered, and chaos erupted at the intersection.
One stray shot hit Lucas' petrol tank. The car erupted in a deafening explosion. Flames engulfed the BMW, the engine igniting violently, and the vehicle flipped over. Lucas Silva felt nothing as the world turned into a blur of fire, metal, and smoke.
When he finally opened his eyes, disoriented, the sound of ambulance sirens pierced the air. People around him were shouting, trying desperately to pull him from the wreckage. The city, in all its bustling life, had claimed him—but beyond the flames and chaos, destiny waited, ready to offer a second chance unlike any other.
Lucas Silva could hear nothing. He could feel nothing. His eyes were shut, yet in the darkness, he faintly made out the red and white flashes of police sirens, slicing through the dim winter evening. The city had almost settled into quiet, and the lights, combined with the fading sun, made everything feel unreal—like a dream he couldn't wake from.
Tick. It all vanished. Lucas could no longer sense his body. The explosion, the chaos, even the sirens—they were gone. Time had no meaning. There was only a vast, endless void, and in it, he was aware… somehow. Not as a body, not as a human, but as consciousness, floating without touch, weight, or sound.
He did not know how long he waited, or if waiting even mattered. Where was he? What was this? The void had no shape, no boundaries—yet something within it pressed against him, faintly familiar. Lucas Silva could not move, could not act, could only exist. And in that suspended emptiness, the first spark of something impossible began to stir.
Time, if it even existed, stretched without end. He had no body, no breath—only the faint echo of his own thoughts. Then, suddenly, a sound pierced the silence.
DING!!!
[You have awakened the Celestial System.]
[Dear host, I am created from your original universe's upper realm, the Mythical Heavenly Realm, where Sun Wukong, the Great Sage Equal to Heaven and the Heavenly Court existed. Before the destruction of the Heavenly Realm, the entire realm, which acknowledged Sun Wukong, self-destructed after millions of years. I was formed as a system to carry the legacy of Sun Wukong, so that another can rise to become the next Great Sage Equal to Heaven.]
[Host, it is detected that you have died, and therefore you cannot use the system in your current state. To compensate, one of my main functions—immortality, which the host would have gained later—is being sacrificed, allowing you to be transmigrated to a different world. Do you wish to destroy the immortality function and receive another chance at life? Yes or No?]
Then, slowly, a strange sensation tugged at him, a pull, as if an invisible force was guiding him somewhere. He didn't understand how, but a golden screen appeared before him—floating, shimmering, impossible. He didn't even know if it was in front of him, or inside him, or somewhere beyond perception. And yet, he could read the words. Without eyes, without a mind fully aware, he absorbed the message. Slowly, over an unknowable span of time, understanding dawned: he was dead.
Excitement surged through him first, a spark of awe and wonder. He was alive—again—but not in the way he had ever known. And then came the bitter weight: immortality would be denied him. He felt a hollow ache, a shadow of disappointment. Yet, as he reflected, hope flickered. If the system can grant me power, can I not become immortal in another way? If I enter a world where immortality is possible, perhaps I can achieve it. And if not… then why obsess over immortality? A life lived fully, a life where I can pursue my desires, find joy, and fulfill myself—this is enough.
Grief followed, a tide he could not restrain. He thought of Rafael, his best friend, and his wife, and little Sofia—his surrogate family. The warmth of their laughter, the trust they had placed in him, the life he had left behind—all of it pressed against the void, and he mourned it deeply. Not as one who had lost blood family, but as one who had lost connections that had shaped him, that had mattered. The grief was sharp, but it was tempered by resolve: his life was ending here, yes—but another life awaited, one where he could protect, enjoy, and perhaps even surpass the limits of what he had once known.
Lucas Silva's mind moved decisively. Yes. He would choose the second chance at life. But almost immediately, a thought struck him. I can't even touch… how will it happen?
Then realization dawned. The option had already been selected—not through touch, not through action, but through conscious agreement alone. His will had spoken, and the system had heard.
DING!
[Host has confirmed. The system has recorded the host's response.]
[Host is being transferred to another world. Checking for worlds available for the soul of host to inhabit, and searching for a body suitable for the host.]
Only seconds passed before the next message appeared:
DING!
[The system has found a perfect body and world for the host. Transmitting the host to a world: a cultivations world, where opportunists seek immortality, a Middle Realm. Host will inhabit this body and begin his journey in this realm.]
Lucas read the words—or somehow perceived them—and his mind raced. Middle Realm… The phrasing stirred something deeper. If there was a middle realm, then there must be a lower realm, a world below, perhaps for weaker beings or mortals. And above it, there must exist an upper world, a realm of unimaginable power.
A spark of excitement flickered inside him. This was only a hint, a glimpse of something far greater—a promise that the system, this new life, and this world were but the beginning. Future worlds, future power, and endless possibilities lay ahead.