…
The list unfurled, clean and precise.
Worlds:
Fantasy
Apocalyptic
Modern Horror
Steampunk
Fantasy was the obvious choice—the whole reason I'd clicked. Swords, magic, epic quests. The good stuff.
Still, my cursor hesitated.
Modern Horror caught my eye. I glanced at the frozen city on screen—neon signs bleeding through snowfall, their light warped by glare. For a split second, I imagined the distant wail of a siren through empty streets.
I clicked FANTASY.
A clean chime echoed through my headphones. Ding!
» WORLD CONFIRMED.
» RACE OPTIONS UNLOCKED. PLEASE SELECT A RACE.
A new list slid into view:
Races:
Human
Elf (High, Dark, Wood, etc.)
Dwarf (Mountain, Hill, Duergar, etc.)
Beastkin (Wolf, Lion, Tiger, Cat, Dog, etc.)
Goblin
…or type a Custom race. (Must be fantasy-world related.)
I leaned back, scanning.
Safe. Familiar. Foundation.
I chose Human.
Another chime, deeper. Dong.
» RACE CONFIRMED: HUMAN.
» PROCEED TO IDENTITY.
The dark rectangle on the right dissolved. A human male model materialized in a sun-drenched forest clearing—average height, average build, dressed in simple brown trousers and a tunic. No pointed ears, no beast features. Just a person.
The Gender field glowed. Below it: Name, Age, Appearance, and finally, Power Selection.
Gender: Male
Name: Ali
Age: 16
Appearance: Medium black hair swept back, defined nose, 5'9", athletic build, white-grey eyes, sharp eyebrows, brown-white skin tone.
Another Ding!
⚠ WARNING: You will ONLY be able to build your power once in-world based on the NAME chosen here. IT WILL BE PERMANENT.
The text flashed crimson, then pulsed steadily.
Power:
The cursor blinked.
Name it.
My mind raced. Magic? Strength? Speed? Something clever?
The name would shape not just what it does, but how it works.
Custom fields… full freedom… was this some AI-generated thing? Odd.
I wanted something that felt mine. Room to breathe. To evolve.
My fingers hovered.
Then I typed: SYSTEM.
Silence.
The [SUBMIT] button glowed solid blue.
All fields filled:
World: Fantasy
Race: Human
Name: Ali
Power: SYSTEM
No more warnings. No more prompts.
Just the button.
My hand was steady. The red Cheeto dust on my mouse was just a faint stain now.
I clicked SUBMIT.
A loading screen appeared.
For a full minute, it hung there.
Then—white light.
It filled the screen, my room, my vision. Gentle. Overwhelming.
It didn't hurt. It felt like falling through air.
The last thing I heard was the hum of my PC fan.
The last thing I saw was snow falling outside my dark window.