A young man with short black hair lay face-down on a patch of wild grass, his body heavy with a fatigue that went deeper than muscle.
Essim groaned. His eyelids felt glued shut. When he finally forced them open, the world swam—golden light refracting through a layer of mist that turned everything into a shimmering mirage. He lay still for several seconds, breathing slowly, trying to convince his body that it still belonged to him.
He was lying on an island.
Not a proper island—not the kind with beaches and palm trees—but a slab of earth and wild grass, roughly five metres on each side, floating in an ocean of white cloud. Beyond its edges, there was nothing but sky. The clouds below shifted and parted in places, offering dizzying glimpses of an abyss that seemed to have no bottom.
Essim pushed himself upright, his arms trembling. The air was warm and carried a faint sweetness, like wildflowers after rain. An unseen sun cast golden light from somewhere above, but there was no visible source—just a diffuse, ethereal glow that illuminated everything without casting shadows.
"What…" he murmured, pressing a palm to his temple.
The last thing he remembered was the office. The red panel. The countdown reaching zero.
Now he was here.
Wherever here was.
His eyes caught a faint shimmer at the centre of the island. Squinting through the haze, he saw a transparent orb hovering just above the grass, rotating slowly, pulsing with soft inner light. Essim rose on unsteady legs and approached it. His fingers grazed its cool, glassy surface.
A holographic panel sprang to life.
[Island Ruler Orb]
Owner: [Enter Name]
Speed: 1 metre per second
Size: 25 square metres
The interface was clean, minimalist—and eerily familiar. It looked exactly like the HUD of every RPG he'd ever played. A game interface, hovering in the real air, responding to his real touch.
"An isekai," Essim whispered, half in disbelief, half in bitter amusement. He'd spent years consuming exactly this kind of story. Transported to another world. Given powers. Forced to survive.
But in those stories, the protagonist never described how their hands wouldn't stop shaking.
This wasn't a game. The wind on his skin was real. The drop beyond the island's edge was real. And if there were monsters here—
A bolt of ice shot through his chest.
"Aisha!"
The name tore from his throat as he spun around, his eyes sweeping the tiny island. His younger sister—his only family. She'd been at her school in Kreuzberg when the panels appeared. She was seventeen, old enough to have seen the message. Where was she now? On some other island? Alone? Afraid?
His breathing came faster. Panic clawed at his thoughts, spiralling toward catastrophe. But before it could take hold, a new notification appeared.
[System Notice: As a Ruler of Region #1825, you are granted a single wish. Speak your wish, and it will be fulfilled.]
Essim didn't hesitate.
"Bring my sister, Aisha, here."
The system seemed to consider the request for a long, agonising moment.
[Wish granted.]
Light gathered at the island's edge and condensed into a shape—a figure, slight and trembling, with long black hair falling past her shoulders. Aisha materialised with her arms wrapped around herself, her school bag still slung over one shoulder, her eyes wide and unfocused.
"Aisha!" Essim closed the distance in two strides, gripping her shoulders. "Aisha, it's me. You're safe."
She blinked once. Twice. Recognition flooded her face, and her body sagged with relief. "Brother?" Her voice was small, uncertain. "Where are we? I was in class and then—everything went dark, and—"
"I know. I don't understand it either." He pulled her into a brief, fierce hug. "But we're together. That's what matters."
Before Aisha could respond, the cold, synthetic voice of the system echoed across the island.
[Welcome to the Ascendant Realm.]
Successfully entered Region #1825...
Loading status panel...
Obtaining beginner's chest...
Evaluating talent...
Acquired talent: [Infinity Duplicate — EX]
Essim's breath caught. EX-ranked. He opened the talent description immediately.
(Infinity Duplicate — EX)
Duplicate 1 item into 500 copies.
Cooldown: 1 hour.
Applicable to any item in existence.
Five hundred copies. Of anything. Every hour.
The implications unfolded in his mind like a chain reaction. Resources. Weapons. Medicine. Anything he could touch, he could multiply five hundred times over. His hands trembled—not from fear this time, but from the sheer, staggering magnitude of what he'd been given.
"Aisha," he said slowly, turning to his sister. "Did you get a talent too?"
She checked her own panel, then shook her head. "The system says I have no innate talent." There was a flicker of disappointment in her eyes, quickly suppressed.
Essim squeezed her arm. "Don't worry about that. Talent or not, you're still the smartest person I know. We'll figure this out together."
He meant it. Aisha had always been sharper than him where it counted—more perceptive, more strategic. A system label couldn't change that.
He turned to the status panel next, reviewing his attributes.
[Status Panel]
Ruler's Name: [Enter Name]
Level: 1 (0%)
Attributes: Strength 3 | Agility 2 | Intelligence 1 | Resilience 3
Equipment: —
Features: Market, Chat, Friends
Essim entered his real name. No alias, no gamertag. If this world was real, he would face it as himself.
Next, he opened the Regional Chat.
Marta: Can anyone hear me? I'm alone and I can't see anything past the clouds—
Franck: Be careful. Death is real here. My friend just fell off his island. He's gone.
Lukas: I'm near a large black tower. Is anyone nearby?
Yuki: My family is with me. We'll protect them no matter what.
Tom: What did everyone wish for?
Gregor: Don't. Fall. Off. The. Edge.
Tribor: I wished for immortality. It was denied, and I lost my wish...
[System: Henrik has died.]
The chat was a flood of fear, warnings, and desperate pleas. Death notifications punctuated the stream at irregular intervals, each one a cold reminder that the stakes here were absolute.
Essim closed the panel. His jaw was tight.
Finally, they turned to the Beginner's Chests. Each contained the same meagre offering: a crude wooden sword and a small vial of water, barely ten centilitres.
"The system is stingy," Essim muttered. Then his expression shifted. He held up the vial, and a slow smile crept across his face. "But I can fix that."
Aisha tilted her head, then understood. Her eyes widened. "You're going to duplicate it."
"Five hundred bottles of water," Essim said. "Every single hour."
For the first time since arriving in this strange new sky, Aisha smiled too.