Kairos Vale slumped deeper into his gaming chair, the glow of his triple monitors bathing his face in sickly blue light. Twenty-four years old, no job worth mentioning, no girlfriend since high school, and a stack of instant noodle cups towering like a monument to his failures. *Just one more raid,* he told himself, fingers flying across the keyboard. The MMO's endgame boss was a bastard—firewalls of flame, minions that respawned endlessly—but Kairos was close. So close.
Outside, rain hammered Tokyo's streets, turning the neon jungle into a smeared watercolor. He didn't hear the delivery truck hydroplaning around the corner, didn't see it barrel through the red light. The impact was instant. Glass shattered. Metal screamed. Pain exploded through his chest like a supernova, then—nothing.
When Kairos opened his eyes, he wasn't in a hospital. No beeping machines, no sterile white walls. He lay sprawled on cold cobblestones, naked as the day he was born, in a narrow alley that reeked of piss and rotting vegetables. The sky above was a bruised purple, dotted with two moons—one fat and orange, the other a sliver of silver. Shouts echoed from the street beyond, in a language that twisted his brain until it clicked into English. Medieval voices. Armor clanking.
"What the fuck?" He scrambled up, heart jackhammering. His body felt wrong—lighter, stronger maybe?—but the alley walls closed in like a trap. Footsteps approached. Panic surged.
A girl burst around the corner, no older than sixteen, with wild chestnut hair matted in dirt and rags hanging off her skinny frame. She clutched a loaf of bread to her chest like it was gold. Her eyes—huge, hazel, feral—locked on him. "You! Get out of the way, idiot!"
Before Kairos could process, three brutes in leather armor shoved past, swords drawn. "Thieving rat! Hand it over!"
The girl—Mira, he'd learn her name later—bolted, but they were faster. One grabbed her hair, yanking her back. She screamed, kicking wildly, the bread tumbling into the muck. Kairos froze. *This is a dream. VR glitch. Wake up.*
But the big one with the scarred face turned on him next. "Another stray? Guild don't like witnesses." His sword rose, glinting.
Instinct kicked in. Kairos lunged—not thinking, just moving. He tackled the scarred thug's legs, a sloppy rugby move from his one PE class in college. They crashed down together. The man roared, fist cracking Kairos' jaw. Pain bloomed, real as the truck's crush.
"Get off him!" Mira slashed with a rusty knife she'd pulled from her rags, slicing the thug's arm. Blood sprayed. Chaos erupted.
Kairos grabbed a broken crate lid as a shield, swinging wild. He caught one attacker in the knee—crunch—but the scarred leader drove his blade straight through Kairos' gut. Hot agony. Blood filled his mouth. He gurgled, vision tunneling.
Mira's scream pierced the haze. "No—run!"
Darkness swallowed him. But it didn't end there.
***
Kairos gasped awake on the same cold cobblestones, naked, alley unchanged. Two moons overhead. Shouts from the street. His hands flew to his stomach—no wound. No blood. Heart pounding like a war drum.
*Respawn?* The thought hit like lightning. But this wasn't his game. Voices neared again. The girl—Mira—rounded the corner, bread clutched tight.
*Not again.* He backed against the wall, mind racing. *I die, I reset. Okay. Save her. Don't fuck it up.*
This time, he called out before the thugs appeared. "Hey! Bread-girl! Alley—trouble coming!"
She skidded to a halt, eyes wide. "How'd you—?"
Thugs piled in. Kairos snatched a loose brick from the ground—echo of some forgotten builder's trash. He smashed the scarred one's nose first, cartilage exploding. Mira joined, knife flashing. They fought back-to-back, her feral snarls mixing with his grunts.
One thug flanked him. Kairos twisted, brick meeting skull. Wet crack. The man dropped.
But the leader recovered, sword thrusting. Kairos dodged—barely—but it grazed his side, fire-lancing pain. Mira leaped, stabbing the thug's thigh. He bellowed, backhanding her into the wall. She crumpled, bread forgotten.
Kairos roared, tackling him fully. Fists flew. He pummeled until the man stilled. Panting, he crawled to Mira. "Hey... you okay?"
She coughed, grinning through bloodied teeth. "Bread's mine. You... you're weird. Summoned?"
He blinked. "Summoned?"
Footsteps thundered—heavy boots, more voices. Royal guards? A silver-haired woman on horseback led them, her eyes like glacial pools, mana crackling around her. She dismounted gracefully, robes whispering. "The thief? And... a naked man?"
Mira bolted upright, grabbing Kairos' arm. "Run!"
They fled into the labyrinthine slums, laughter bubbling from her despite the chase. Kairos' side burned, but adrenaline surged. *This world. This power. I can fix anything.*
He glanced back. The silver-haired beauty—Lirien, he somehow knew—watched them go, her expression unreadable. Horns blared. The hunt was on.
For the first time since the truck, Kairos felt alive. But deep down, a whisper: *How many times will you die for this?*
⚔️ To be continued!