Papers slammed against the desk, scattering a thin layer of dust across the polished wood. Surviving the absolute disaster of Pristol Island, he wished to have at least a month-long vacation. Instead, it only multiplied the towering stacks of paperwork.
"The backlog of incident reports is completely out of hand," Eva stated, adjusting her glasses with a sharp flick of her wrist. Her voice carried the hollow exhaustion of a woman running on zero sleep. "The Explorer Association expects a formal response by noon. Are you listening to me, Clan Master?"
A profound, knowing nod was his only reply.
I haven't listened to a single word for the last ten minutes.
Sitting cross-legged on the plush carpet behind his desk, Krai gently scrubbed a rusted metal rod with a soiled rag.
Most people called his collection a literal mountain of junk. But to him, these forgotten relics were his treasures.
"Krai-san, are you still there?" Eva asked.
Please, just let me go.
"I trust your judgment, Eva," Krai said while holding the weird fire poker up to the light to admire his cleaning job. "Handle it however you see fit. The clan is in good hands."
Eva made a defeated sigh. She shook her head.
"Krai-san, about the Emperor's nomination request..." Eva adjusted the thick stack of parchment on her desk. "Are you doing it?"
He was too focused on aggressively scrubbing a rusted metal rod with a soiled rag. He did not hear a single word Eva said.
Krai just nodded the whole time. He does not care.
"I will draft the formal reply to the palace immediately," Eva said.
"Sure."
Then Eva left.
Tossing the polished rod aside, his fingers brushed against something icy at the bottom of his canvas bag. He pulled out a heavy, dirt-caked band. It was an old, forgotten ring. The only relic he had ever failed to activate, no matter how much mana he poured into it.
Under the dim office light, a sudden realization clicked. Jagged, blocky symbols lined the metal surface. It perfectly matched the ancient, indecipherable "CODE" language he had seen during their past nightmares.
Without thinking, he muttered the only word he actually recognized from that lost civilization.
"[System]."
A blue, holographic window snapped open in the air.
Glowing gibberish flooded the floating screen, casting an eerie light across the room. Panicked, Krai dug through his pockets and pulled out his Translation Staff. He tapped the crystal tip against the projection.
The text warped.
However, most of the strange symbols refused to change, remaining a chaotic mess of alien syntax. Only the header boldly shifted into a single readable word: **SYSTEM**.
Below the massive block of untranslated text, two buttons blinked in plain Zebrudian letters.
**[YES]** and **[NO]**.
Sweat beaded on his forehead. It was the ultimate trap. What was the machine asking? Did it want to blow up the city? Did it want to summon a demon? Whatever this terrifying relic was preparing to do, he wanted absolutely no part in it.
Desperate to stop the unknown sequence, Krai slammed his palm into the **[NO]** button.
Then, a spatial portal swallowed him instantly.
Cold mud seeped through his clothes. When Krai opened his eyes, he was no longer sitting in the comfortable, secure office of the Imperial Capital of Zebrudia. A bitter wind howled across a barren landscape. He was dumped on the farthest continent in the world.
Worse, his sleeves swallowed his hands. The expensive jacket hung loose on a shrunken frame.
He was a kid again.
Standing in the muck in front of him were five unfamiliar slum children. They stared at him with wide, cautious expressions. But beneath the dirt and rags, they had the exact same eyes, the same hair color, and the exact same traits as his childhood friends.
"Please..." Krai whispered into the freezing wind. "I just want to retire."