The light came first.
Soft. Golden. Endless. It filled his eyes, his lungs, his bones.
Julio Cesar Mendoza Fuentes opened his eyes.
He was standing.
That was wrong. He remembered falling. He remembered the burning in his chest—three bullets, maybe four—and the concrete rushing up to meet his face. He remembered the wet sound of his own breath stopping.
He should be dead.
He looked down at his hands. No blood. No holes. His white linen shirt was clean. His black slacks were unwrinkled.
He touched his chest. Nothing. No wound. No pain.
What the fuck?
He looked up.
A palace. White marble columns. A ceiling lost in golden mist. A floor of polished obsidian. Fountains of liquid gold.
And a throne.
On it sat a figure. Young. Pale skin. White hair. Eyes like old gold, slit-pupiled like a snake's. He wore a simple white robe. In one hand, a glass of red wine.
He looked at Julio. His golden eyes scanned him from head to toe.
"Julio Cesar Mendoza Fuentes," the god said. "Drug trafficker. Over a hundred bodies laid dead by your command." He sighed. A deep, heavy, awful sigh. "Fate is a bitch."
Julio said nothing.
The god set down his wine glass and stood. He walked down the crystal steps, bare feet silent on the obsidian floor. He stopped a few feet from Julio.
"You are going to a world called Arthenia," he said. "There are no humans there. You will be the only human on the entire planet."
Julio's jaw tightened. "The only human?"
"The only one." The god's voice was flat. Tired. "The inhabitants are called Arthenians. They look like you. But they have magic. Power. Kingdoms. Wars."
"Magic?"
"Real magic. Fire from hands. Healing. Flight. Curses. All of it."
Julio was silent for a moment. Then he spoke.
"Give me powerful magic."
The god laughed. A dry, humorless sound.
"You cannot use magic. You are human. Human souls do not process magical energy. The strongest magic in the world would be useless to you. It would sit inside you like a stone. You would feel nothing. You would do nothing."
Julio's eyes narrowed. "Then what can I use?"
"Nothing. You have no magic. No special body. No innate power." The god tilted his head. "You are just a man."
Julio stood in silence. Then he spoke again.
"Give me something so that I can create. Cars. Guns. Bombs. Nuclear weapons. Clothes. Anything modern. Anything from Earth."
The god raised an eyebrow.
"That is what you want?"
"That is what I want."
The god shrugged.
"Very well."
He touched Julio's forehead.
A screen appeared.
[UNIVERSAL CONSTRUCTOR SYSTEM INITIALIZED]
[USER: JULIO CESAR MENDOZA FUENTES]
[STATUS: ACTIVE]
[ANY MODERN ITEM CAN BE CONSTRUCTED]
Julio stared at the glowing text.
The god turned and walked back toward his throne.
"Goodbye, Julio Cesar Mendoza Fuentes. You are the only human on Arthenia." He sat down and picked up his wine glass. "Try not to die too quickly."
He snapped his fingers.
The world dissolved into light.
...
Julio hit the ground.
Dirt. Grass. Cold air. He pushed himself up, hands sinking into mud.
A forest. Tall trees. Moonlight. Somewhere close, something growled.
He stood.
How do I use this thing? he thought.
A screen appeared in front of him.
[UNIVERSAL CONSTRUCTOR SYSTEM]
USER: Julio Cesar Mendoza Fuentes
LEVEL: 1
TITLE: None
CORE STATS
STR: 10 — Physical power
DEX: 10 — Speed and precision
CON: 10 — Endurance and health
INT: 10 — Mental acuity
CRAFT: 10 — Creation efficiency and quality
RESOURCES
HP: 100/100
ENERGY: 100/100
INVENTORY
Capacity: 3/20 slots
BLUEPRINTS: 0
SHOP: LOCKED — Reach Level 5 to unlock
CUSTOM DESIGN: UNLOCKED
Julio frowned. Inventory?
He focused on it.
The inventory opened. Three slots. All filled.
Slot 1: Packet of Cigarettes (x1)
Slot 2: Lighter (x1)
Slot 3: Pistol (x1)(one magazine)
Julio stared at the screen.
A packet of cigarettes. A lighter. A pistol.
He focused on the pistol. A small image appeared. A 9mm semi-automatic. One magazine. Fifteen rounds.
He pulled the packet from his inventory. It appeared in his hand. Real. Solid. He pulled out a cigarette, put it between his lips. Pulled the lighter. Flicked it. A small flame danced in the darkness.
He took a long drag. The smoke filled his lungs. Familiar. Comforting.
Then he looked at the pistol still in his inventory.
Not empty-handed, he thought.
The forest was dark. Moonlight barely pierced the thick canopy above. Julio moved slowly, quietly, the way he had learned in another life on another world. His boots sank into damp earth. His hand rested near his waist, ready.
Then he heard it.
The clash of steel. Grunts. Footsteps pounding against dirt. Someone running.
Then a howl. Deep. Guttural. Close.
Julio's body reacted before his mind caught up. He reached into his inventory and pulled out the pistol. The weight was familiar. The cold metal against his palm was the only comfort he had in this strange place.
He ejected the magazine. Checked it. Fifteen rounds. Snapped it back in place. Pulled the slide. A round chambered.
He didn't want to go toward the sound. Every instinct from years of surviving told him to go the other way. But the sounds were getting closer. The running. The howling. The screaming.
Then the air itself seemed to split open.
A crescent-shaped slash of blue energy flew out of the darkness—fast, too fast, but not fast enough. Julio threw himself sideways. He felt the edge of it graze his leg, hot and sharp, and then he hit the ground hard, sliding until his back met the rough bark of a tree.
He sat there, breathing hard. His pant leg was torn. Blood seeped through.
Behind the tree, two figures emerged from the shadows.
A boy. A girl. Both young—seventeen, maybe. The boy carried a bow, his face hardened beyond his years, eyes scanning the darkness. The girl wore purple robes that flowed even in the still air. Her green eyes were wide, focused. Her hair dark. She was beautiful in the way that youth and danger together created something sharp.
"Damn this wolf," the girl said, raising her hand. Purple energy gathered at her palm. "It's so fast!"
Incursent Slashes.
The words hung in the air as she flicked her wrist. More crescent-shaped blades of energy shot forward, cutting through the trees, tearing through bark and leaves.
The boy wasn't watching the wolf anymore. He was looking at Julio.
"There's someone behind it," the boy said, his voice tense. "He looks like he's been slashed by the wolf."
Julio looked down at his leg. A cut. Not deep. He could feel the edges of it with his fingers. Muscle intact. Flesh still holding. He had survived worse. Much worse.
He pushed two fingers into the wound. Blood, warm and slick. He pulled them out. Looked at the red staining his skin.
Not deep, he confirmed.
Then he looked past the two young fighters.
The wolf stepped out of the shadows.
It was massive. The size of a man, shoulders broad, fur dark as charcoal. Its eyes glowed amber. Its teeth were too long, too white, dripping with something that was not saliva. It lowered its head and growled—a sound that vibrated through Julio's chest.
The boy and girl both screamed.
"Get away from that wolf!" the boy shouted.
"Run!" the girl screamed. "It will kill you!"
Julio didn't run.
He stood up. His leg ached, but it held. He raised the pistol. The wolf's amber eyes locked onto him. Its muscles tensed. It was going to pounce.
Julio looked at the creature. At the two young fighters behind it. At the dark forest around him.
This is the world I was thrown into, he thought.
Fine.
"Fuck this wolf," he said.
He pointed the gun at the wolf's head.
And fired.