Kieran surfaced into awareness without urgency. Consciousness returned the way it always did for him—quietly assembled, already oriented, as though his mind had been waiting just beneath the surface for permission to rise.
The moment stretched.
There was no sense of weight or breath yet. No physical anchor. Only presence—contained, intact, aware of itself in a way that required no confirmation.
So this is how it starts, he thought, letting the silence sit.
Something passed through him.
It lacked edges or temperature, more pressure than contact, sliding inward with deliberate patience. It moved beneath where skin would have been, settling deeper than muscle or bone, pressing into the abstract center where resistance usually formed.
Discomfort surfaced briefly. It passed without effort.
The sensation lingered with professional persistence, as if testing assumptions rather than boundaries.
Measured.
Assessed.
INITIATING SOUL SCAN…
Light formed around him in widening rings. Crimson layered with silver, threaded faintly with violet, rotating in steady, methodical passes. The illumination did not brighten so much as clarify, defining limits where none had existed before.
The first rotation skimmed shallow.
The second pressed deeper.
By the third, it moved beyond memory. It brushed against habits. Defaults. The quiet decisions he made without naming them.
When to step forward. When to let a moment pass. When silence carried more weight than explanation. When endurance mattered more than triumph.
The rings adjusted their rotation, fine-tuning their alignment as if responding to feedback.
Kieran remained still. Interference would only complicate the result.
--------------------------
SOUL INTEGRITY: STABLE
SOUL DENSITY: HIGH
WILL INDEX: ABOVE AVERAGE
EMOTIONAL ACTIVITY: LOW
MENTAL DISTORTION: NONE
---------------------------
The values hovered longer than necessary.
Kieran exhaled, more out of habit than need.
Low, he thought, a flicker of dry amusement surfacing. That's charitable.
The rings slowed. Pressure eased. Light unraveled in clean, deliberate strands until only absence remained.
SOUL SCAN COMPLETE.
The darkness thinned, receded like fog lifting from still ground, revealing a vast gray expanse beneath. There was no visible sky, no defined floor, yet orientation asserted itself immediately. He had the sense of standing—balanced, centered, stable.
Direction felt optional. Something that would exist only if he decided to apply it.
A single interface hovered before him. Minimalist. Clean. Functional. It made no attempt to impress.
Kieran approved.
WELCOME TO PARALLEL
The text vanished almost as soon as it appeared, replaced by another prompt.
CHARACTER CREATION — THIS PROCESS DEFINES YOUR PHYSICAL AND RACIAL FOUNDATION
A silhouette formed in front of him. At first it carried only proportion and posture, then details resolved—height, frame, the quiet tension carried in the shoulders. Balance distributed evenly through long limbs.
It was him.
Accurate rather than idealized. Familiar without polish.
Kieran tilted his head, studying the reflection.
No embellishment, he noted. Good.
He circled it once. The movement translated perfectly, mirrored without delay. The figure's expression remained neutral, eyes unreadable.
RACE SELECTION — RACES POSSESS UNIQUE BIOLOGIES, RACIAL SKILLS, AND EVOLUTIONARY TRAITS
Sigils appeared in a broad arc. Each radiated a distinct presence that pressed lightly against his awareness—some dense, some sharp, others restrained enough to feel deliberate.
He took his time.
Human
The symbol felt plain by design. Adaptive growth. Learning affinity. Flexible evolution. Humans endured more than they excelled.
Reliable, Kieran thought. Familiar. Costly in quieter ways.
He moved on.
Elf
Light shimmered faintly, refracting space around the sigil. Heightened perception. Mana sensitivity. Longevity. Detached. Distant from the world and reclusive.
He passed it without lingering.
Dark Elf
Light bent inward here, shadowed and precise. Dexterity. Poison tolerance. Shadow affinity. Efficient. Narrow.
Living in margins, he decided. He preferred open exits.
Dwarf
The sigil felt forged rather than formed. Endurance. Crafting authority. Material insight. This one held his attention.
Perfect gear. Weapons shaped exactly to hand and need. For a moment, he pictured it—heat from a forge, hammer striking metal until strength became permanence.
The image soured as quickly as it formed. Rooted. Loud. Anchored to one place.
I want to use weapons, he thought. Not make them.
Beastkin
Heightened senses. Natural strength. Instinct-driven combat.
Too visible.
Demon
Heat bled subtly from the symbol. Raw power. Corruption resistance. Passive fear.
Draws too much attention.
Half-Demon
Hybrid scaling. Unstable growth paths. Unpredictability without restraint.
He dismissed it.
Dragonkin
Ancient weight pressed from the sigil. Durability. Strength. Dormant power.
He preferred movement over mass.
Fae
Agility. Illusion. Evasion. Fragility hidden behind elegance. One mistake would echo.
Then—
Vampire
The sigil glowed a restrained crimson. It did not pulse or flare. It simply existed.
The moment his focus settled on it, something aligned. Recognition rather than excitement. Familiarity without explanation.
Racial traits unfolded in concise detail:
• Enhanced strength and speed
• Accelerated regeneration
• Blood perception — awareness of nearby life force
• Night adaptation
• Extended lifespan
Limitations followed immediately:
• Blood dependency
• Sunlight vulnerability
Kieran lingered.
The appeal lay in efficiency.
Speed. Precision. Quiet persistence.
Predator, his mind supplied—without judgment.
Sunlight restriction. Sustained dependency.
Manageable.
The sigil felt less like an option and more like an acknowledgment. As if the system had been waiting for him to arrive at a conclusion he had already made.
A faint smile crossed his face, sharp and fleeting. He confirmed the selection.
RACE CONFIRMED: VAMPIRE
The silhouette shifted. Posture refined. Muscle alignment adjusted rather than expanded. His reflection's eyes flared crimson for an instant before settling into a deeper, darker hue.
His heartbeat slowed, spacing itself into a steadier rhythm. Coolness pressed closer to his skin, subtle and present, like the world maintaining cautious distance.
This felt like calibration rather than power.
Comfortable.
CLASS SELECTION — CLASS DEFINES YOUR COMBAT ROLE
New crests formed. Warrior. Mage. Cleric. Ranger. Monk. Each offered strength. Each demanded compromise. None really fit his style.
Then—
Rogue
High mobility. Stealth. Precision damage.
Severe punishment for mistakes.
Kieran exhaled slowly.
Clear conditions. Honest risk. Fast. Lethal. Independent. This works. He thought with a grin.
CLASS CONFIRMED: ROGUE
The interface dissolved.
CHARACTER CREATION COMPLETE
The gray expanse folded inward. Darkness returned, denser than before. Something vast shifted beyond perception. Not orienting toward him. Not responding to his presence. Simply moving, like a system activating across distances too large to measure.
For the first time, scale asserted itself.
He felt small.
Not insignificant. Unremarkable.
Whatever this world was, it did not revolve around him. That realization settled heavily. Sensation filtered in.
Damp earth. Leaves. Decay. Something alive nearby—and aware.
WORLD INITIALIZATION IN PROGRESS…
Darkness deepened. Then the world began.
------------------------
Consciousness rose slowly, like a tide creeping back over sand.
Moonlight filtered through a canopy of twisted branches, silver streaks cutting across bark that looked more like old stone than wood. Roots clawed out of the ground in thick lines, coiling over each other before vanishing back into the earth. The air in his lungs was cool and sharp, carrying damp soil, moss, and a faint metallic aftertaste.
A forest. Real enough that his senses believed it.
He stood in a shallow clearing. His boots sank a few millimeters into loam, the give precise and consistent. He shifted his weight from heel to toe and the response came instantly, body calibrated to an efficiency his real-world frame never quite reached. Joints aligned perfectly. Muscles rested in that narrow band between tension and readiness.
He inhaled once, slow.
The breath came smooth.
"So this is Parallel," he said quietly