"Fuck my fate…" he muttered under his breath.
The deadline was looming, and his boss—an insufferable bastard—wouldn't tolerate even the slightest delay.
He cast one last glance at his computer screen. The office was empty. Everyone else had gone home long ago, swallowed by the night, while he remained chained to his desk, working overtime.
Games had once been his passion.
They were illusions that allowed him to build the man who would reach the summit—the man even dreams themselves wanted to become.
Now, they felt like a curse.
Tonight, he was finalizing the Class Tree, the power system of the new RPG his company had placed all its hopes on.
On the screen stood a translucent structure, like a sculpture carved from clear glass. Roots coiled at its base, while a single central trunk rose upward. There were no branches or leaves yet.
The Class Tree served three core purposes: displaying character attributes, enabling class acquisition, and tracking experience gain.
With the rise of artificial intelligence, he had integrated machine learning into the Tree. That was the game's true hook—the players would be able to create their own classes.
When they clicked Create Class, a blank window would appear. The player would type in their class concept and submit it. The Tree would then analyze the idea, checking hidden conditions and attribute thresholds. If the requirements were met, a new branch would form. If not, the attempt would fail.
Creating overpowered classes from the start was impossible. The system was designed to prevent that. The stronger the class, the harsher the requirements and the rarer its traits.
Classes were tiered. A tier determined a class's rarity, potential, and depth of progression. While most high-tier classes offered multiple traits, some granted only a single—but extraordinarily powerful—one.
Traits were represented as leaves along a branch. Only one class could be developed at a time. A new class could not be created until the current one reached its maximum level.
Flexible, yet restrictive.
Balanced.
Elegant.
It was almost finished.
He leaned back and checked his phone. No missed calls. No messages.
Not surprising.
He was a loner. Few friends. No girlfriend. Estranged from his family. But it didn't bother him. The silence was… comfortable.
He shut down his computer, grabbed his jacket, and left the office.
The night was cold. Streetlights painted the asphalt a pale yellow. He put on his headphones and started walking home. His mind was still buried in the system—branches of the Class Tree, calculations, possibilities.
At the intersection, the light was red.
He paused.
Then it turned green.
He stepped forward.
And then—
A horn blared.
Headlights exploded into view.
The screech of brakes tore through the air.
He didn't even have time to turn his head.
A massive truck burst out of the darkness and slammed into him.
The moment of impact compressed into a single frame. Crushing pressure against his chest. The sensation of bones shattering. Air forced violently from his lungs.
The world flipped.
Time… stopped.
The asphalt was cold.
The sky felt impossibly distant.
So this is how it ends… he thought as his consciousness began to fade. Working until the very last moment… and then this?
He felt warmth.
Then nothing.
Darkness.
Complete and absolute oblivion.