When Ethan opened his eyes, the world felt too real.
The smell of old parchment and polished wood filled his nose. Warm sunlight spilled through the stained glass windows, casting colored patches across the stone floor. Voices echoed — laughter, boots clattering, a quill scratching across paper.
He blinked several times.
This wasn't his room.
This wasn't Earth.
"Next, please!"
A woman's voice snapped him out of his daze.
Ethan turned his head. In front of him was a long wooden counter lined with people in leather armor and cloaks. Behind it stood a smiling receptionist with chestnut hair tied in a neat bun, holding a feather quill.
He looked down. His hands weren't the same. They were younger — leaner, tanned from work, a faint scar across one knuckle.
He glanced at his reflection in a polished shield on the wall — a young man, maybe seventeen, brown hair falling over green eyes.
"…What the hell," he whispered.
"Sir?" The receptionist tilted her head. "Are you here to register as an adventurer?"
Her words echoed in his mind like a bell. Register… as an adventurer?
He knew that phrase.
He'd heard it hundreds of times before — in Elarion Online, when players reached the central guild hall for the first time.
"Wait…" he muttered, heart pounding. "This place—"
Before he could finish, something clicked inside his head.
A flood of images — names, faces, tutorials, NPC dialogues, boss zones, crafting menus — all pouring into him like an avalanche.
Memories that weren't his… but were.
"Aiden," he gasped.
The name felt familiar.
His name.
He clutched his head as flashes played behind his eyes — a small house near the forest, an old man calling him "son," a wooden sword, dreams of becoming an adventurer.
Then the memories of his real life overlapped — the glow of his computer screen, the keyboard under his fingers, his last night grinding boss crystals before collapsing.
He stood still, trembling, trying to piece himself together.
"Are you… all right?" the receptionist asked, her smile faltering. "You're pale."
"I— I'm fine," he lied quickly. "Just… nervous. First time."
She relaxed slightly. "Everyone's nervous on their first day. You'll do fine."
She handed him a parchment. "Please write your name and birthplace."
He took the quill. His hands shook as he stared at the form.
Name: Aiden.
He hesitated before writing it down.
The ink bled slightly on the paper.
"And… you're from?" she asked gently.
"Albrion Village," he said automatically, the answer flowing out before he could think.
He froze.
He hadn't chosen those words — they came from Aiden's memory.
"Very good," she said, stamping the parchment with a glowing sigil. "Aiden of Albrion, registration complete! You'll start as a Bronze-ranked Initiate. Please wait for your mentor assignment."
A glowing glyph appeared briefly on his wrist before fading. He felt a faint hum under his skin, as though mana pulsed through his veins.
Mana…? This shouldn't be possible. This isn't VR.
He looked around again.
People laughed, argued, and clanked mugs at the nearby tavern tables. The air shimmered faintly from the warmth of the fireplace.
He could feel heat, smell ale, hear footsteps — none of it pixelated, none of it artificial.
"This isn't a dream," he whispered. "This is… real."
"Hey, newbie."
A tall man in chainmail turned toward him, grinning. "You look like you just saw a ghost. First time in the guild, huh?"
"Uh, yeah," Aiden replied quickly, forcing a smile. "Just… taking it all in."
"Hah! You'll get used to it. Name's Roder, by the way. Sword-user, Bronze rank. You?"
"Aiden. Just registered."
"Good. Stick close to people who know what they're doing, and don't go poking at the forest alone. Got it?"
"Yeah… got it," Aiden said softly.
Roder chuckled and clapped him on the shoulder before walking away. The impact felt solid — too real.
Aiden watched him leave, his heart racing. His mind was spinning, but a strange calm began to settle in.
He turned his gaze to the guild's large mural — the Shattered World Map of Elarion. He knew every region, every dungeon, every boss on that map… but now, they were places he could walk. Places that could kill him.
He whispered to himself, "If this really is Elarion… then maybe I can start over."
He looked down at his hands again — hands that were once a nameless NPC's.
Now, they were his.
"All right," he murmured with a small, nervous smile. "Let's see if a background character can become a hero."