CHAPTER 2: THE SYSTEM

Chapter 2: The System

.

[Congratulations, host, for regaining your lost memory.]

[Now, the System has been activated.]

[System merging with world status...]

[Merging complete.]

The text shimmered in a holographic blue, hanging in the air as though the room itself had become part of some giant RPG HUD. My mouth dropped open slightly.

"...No way."

For a heartbeat, I half expected this to be some cruel hallucination, a leftover fever dream. But the letters were so crisp, so sharp—each line of text seemed etched into reality itself.

And then, like a gaming menu unfolding before my eyes, another prompt appeared:

[Gift Pack Available: Would you like to open it now?]

[YES / NO]

---

A laugh slipped out before I could stop myself, half nervous, half giddy. "A... gift pack?"

This was every gacha gamer’s dream. I mean, I’d opened enough loot boxes in The Eclipse of Hero to know exactly how this moment should feel.

And it did. My fingers actually twitched, like I was reaching for a mouse that wasn’t there.

I grinned despite myself. "Uh... yes. Obviously yes, motherf—"

The system cut me off with another chime, as though it had been impatiently waiting.

DING—

[Opening Gift Pack...]

Lines of light spiraled outward in a mesmerizing dance, curling like ribbons across the room. The dim, shabby little inn chamber suddenly felt like the center of a cosmic lottery.

[Congratulations! You have received:]

— +5 Free Stat Points

— 1x Affinity Selection Card

— 1x Skill Selection Card

The items didn’t just "appear"—they manifested. Two glowing cards hovered before me, spinning lazily, each radiating an aura that tugged at my hands. I actually reached out before remembering—right, mental commands. This wasn’t VR with haptic gloves, but damn if it didn’t feel real enough.

I whistled low. "Okay... okay, this is busted. Tutorial freebies? Don’t mind if I do."

---

Affinity Choice

I thought the words rather than said them: Use Affinity Selection Card.

The system responded instantly.

[Select one affinity from the list:]

— Fire

— Water

— Dark

— Space

I blinked. Then laughed out loud. "Oh, come on. You’re just going to hand me that?"

My natural affinity was Ice. Decent, sure—plenty of control, good in defense, great in area denial. But Space?

Space was the stuff of nightmares in PvP.

I remembered it clearly. Back in my gaming days—Samar, thirty-four-year-old streamer extraordinaire—I had annihilated entire tournaments with Space Affinity builds. I could still hear the frustrated cries from my headset:

"Where the hell did he go!?"

"No way he teleported behind me again!"

"This is broken—nerf this NOW!"

Heh. Good times.

Space wasn’t just rare—it was unfair. Positioning, teleportation, dimensional slashes... against someone who knew how to exploit it, it was basically hacking with dev permission.

My gamer brain didn’t hesitate. "Space. Lock it in."

DING—

[Host has acquired Space Element Affinity.]

The moment the words appeared, my body jolted. A cold, electric shiver rippled through me, followed by a strange weightlessness. For a split second, I felt like the room tilted sideways, as though I had stepped one foot into another reality and snapped back.

"...Whoa." I steadied myself against the table. "Okay, yeah. That... that’s a rush."

---

Skill Choice

Next up: the Skill Selection Card.

Use Skill Selection Card.

A menu unfurled like a fan, options glowing faintly. Six in total. Two green-ranked skills, two blue, and—

My eyes caught the purple glow.

[Shadow Swap – Purple Rank]

And just like that, I didn’t need to read further.

"Oh, hello, old friend."

Shadow Swap. My bread-and-butter back in PvP. The ultimate misdirection. Mark a shadow within range, swap positions instantly. The number of times I’d humiliated higher-ranked players with that one trick... man, they’d rage-quit whole arenas.

Flashback—tournament finals, two opponents cornering me in a dungeon corridor. They thought they had me trapped. Then—snap. I’d switched with a torch’s shadow on the wall behind them, and my blade had cut them down before they even turned around. The chat had exploded:

"What the hell just happened!?"

"He’s broken! He’s cheating!"

"Space + Shadow Swap... ban this man."

I smirked at the memory. "Guess I’m broken again."

DING—

[Skill Acquired: Shadow Swap (Purple Rank)]

---

Status Window

Finally, the system unfurled my status sheet.

[STATUS]

Name: Michael Willson

Age: 15

Class: Magic Swordsman

Traits: Mana Manipulation – control and optimize internal mana flow with precision

Rank: F-

Affinity: Ice, Space

Strength (STR): 35

Stamina (STA): 24

Speed (AGI): 26

Endurance (ENC): 75

Intelligence (INT): 43

Mana: 577 / 680

Skills: Sword Swift (Green), Shadow Swap (Purple)

Arts: Basic Swordsmanship (Novice – 87%)

---

I just stared. For a long time.

Then, a low whistle escaped me.

"...Oh my god. This... this is insane."

For an extra character, this was broken. I’d seen hundreds of protagonists in games and novels start weaker than this.

I tilted my head back, a grin stretching across my face. "Not bad, Michael. Not bad at all."

The weight in my chest—fear, uncertainty, all of it—eased, just a little. Because now, it wasn’t just some hopeless reincarnation into a side character destined to fail.

I had a system. I had Space affinity. I had Shadow Swap.

And most importantly, I had a second chance.

I clenched my fist, heart pounding with an unfamiliar fire. "Alright then. This world thinks I’m just a disposable extra? Fine. Let’s prove them wrong."

The blue glow of the system flickered softly, like it was approving my declaration.

For the first time since waking up here, I felt like I wasn’t just reacting to the story.

I was writing my own.

Grrrggllleee...

My stomach growled so loud it actually startled me. The blue screen flickered as though mocking me.

I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck. "Right. Stats don’t feed you, huh? Can’t exactly eat Shadow Swap for breakfast."

The thought of food had my legs moving before I could second-guess myself. I slid off the squeaky bed, the floorboards complaining beneath my weight. Creak... creak... Every step toward the door sounded louder in the quiet.

Clack.

The latch lifted, and I pulled the door open, a faint draft sweeping in. The hall outside smelled faintly of old wood and smoke from the downstairs hearth.

---

The stairs groaned as I descended, hand sliding along the worn railing.

Thump, thump, thump. My boots hit the steps rhythmically until finally—

The inn’s common area greeted me with an explosion of sound and warmth.

The moment I pushed through the swinging wooden door at the bottom, heat from the hearth rolled over me. Oil lamps flickered above long communal tables, where mercenaries in mismatched armor shouted over each other. Tankards clinked, cutlery scraped, and the sizzle of meat on an iron skillet hissed from the open kitchen.

The air was thick with smoke, sweat, and roasted spices. My empty stomach howled in protest.

I blinked, then grinned despite myself. "Man... this is like walking into an MMORPG tavern hub."

---

Behind the counter stood the innkeeper, a thickset man with greying hair and forearms so huge they looked carved out of stone. His apron was stained from years of grease and ale, but his smile was genuine.

"Mickael, lad!" His voice boomed across the room, earning a few curious glances. "You’ve been holed up in that room for a whole day. Training?"

I froze for half a second. "Something like that," I said casually, sliding onto a stool at the bar. "What’s on the menu?"

The innkeeper chuckled, stroking his beard. "Hungry, eh? Can’t swing a sword on an empty stomach."

Clack.

From the kitchen door behind him came his wife—short, round, cheerful, with flour dusting her hair like a snow halo. She balanced a tray stacked high with steaming bread loaves, the aroma nearly knocking me out cold.

"Grilled boar, fresh from the hunters this afternoon," she said warmly. "Bread’s just out of the oven. And there’s stew if you like it."

My eyes lit up. "Meat, bread... and orange juice if you’ve got it."

She laughed, her eyes crinkling. "Orange juice? You must be a rich boy."

"Not rich," I replied, flashing a grin. "Just... refined."

She rolled her eyes but shuffled off, muttering something about "city kids."

---

When the food arrived, I almost cried.

The plate held thick slices of grilled boar, the glaze shimmering with honey and pepper. The bread crackled as I tore it apart, steam curling into the air. A glass of orange juice—slightly sour, slightly sweet—sat beside it like a crown jewel.

I picked up a piece of boar with my fork, took a bite—

—and stopped.

"...Holy shit."

The flavor hit me like a critical strike. Sweet, smoky, with a spice kick that lingered on the tongue. My taste buds were doing a victory dance.

"This is dangerous," I mumbled through a mouthful. "I might just move in for the food alone."

The innkeeper chuckled, polishing a tankard. "You pay on time, I won’t complain."

"Speaking of..." I fished into my pouch and handed over a few coins.

Clink, clink.

140 Ren gone. My pouch now held 657 Ren. Enough to get by, but I wasn’t worried. With the system’s currency exchange—1 SP = 10 Ren—I basically had a secret infinite wallet, provided I didn’t mind grinding quests.

---

Tavern Chatter

I lingered after the meal, leaning back on the stool with a satisfied sigh. The warmth of the hearth and the pleasant buzz in my stomach made me almost forget I was in another world.

Almost.

Hunters at the nearby table swapped stories between swigs of ale.

"Three kobolds in a row, and the last one had teeth like daggers, I swear it—"

"You’re lying through your damn teeth. Kobolds don’t even—"

"Shut up, I got the scars to prove it!"

Further down, a cloaked man whispered about caravan jobs, while a pair of mercenaries argued about dungeon routes. Most of it was white noise, just background chatter.

But then—

"...Unusual deaths," someone muttered.

My ears sharpened.

"Some of the academy applicants. Dropped dead in their rooms. No signs of a fight. Just... gone."

A chill crawled up my spine. I gripped my mug tighter.

Not good. Not random, either. If academy hopefuls were being targeted, that could only mean one thing—plots within plots.

I exhaled slowly, letting the chatter fade. I’d need to stay sharp.

---

Back in the Room

By the time I trudged back upstairs, night had fallen. The common area’s warmth gave way to the creak of the lonely hallway, shadows stretching under flickering oil lamps.

Click.

The door shut behind me, the quiet swallowing me whole.

I flopped onto the bed, staring at the system window hovering faintly above me.

DING—

[New Quest: Day 1 Training Regimen]

— Sword Swings: (0 / 1,000)

— Run: (0 / 5 km)

— Push-ups: (0 / 200)

Rewards: +1 Free Stat, +2 STA, +100 SP

My lips curled into a grin. "A daily quest grind, huh? Just like the old days."

I stretched my arms above my head, joints popping. For once, the weight of this new life didn’t feel crushing. With the system by my side, it actually felt... doable.

Heck, maybe even fun.

"Alright then," I muttered, eyes drifting shut. "Tomorrow... we grind."

The system’s glow pulsed faintly in the dark, like a nightlight cheering me on.

--

Next Morning

Chirp... chirp...

Birdsong nudged me awake. Pale sunlight spilled through the thin curtains, dust motes swirling like lazy fireflies. My whole body felt stiff, but the system window flashing above my head was all the motivation I needed.

[Quest Progress – Day 1 Training Regimen: 0%]

"Alright," I groaned, rolling out of bed. My sword clattered as I picked it up. "Time to sweat like an NPC in tutorial mode."

---

The small park behind the inn became my battlefield. Dew still clung to the grass, and the chill morning air bit at my skin.

I planted my feet, exhaled, and swung.

Whoosh!

Clang!

Steel cut the air again and again. The first hundred swings were easy, the blade slicing smoothly. By two hundred, my shoulders began to burn. By three hundred, sweat dripped into my eyes, stinging.

The system’s counter ticked up slowly.

— Sword Swings: (312 / 1,000)

"Come on," I hissed, forcing my body to move. "You’ve done worse grinds than this. Remember that twelve-hour raid marathon?"

Push-ups came next. My palms pressed into the damp grass, arms trembling as I lowered myself.

Hffft... hffft...

By seventy, my muscles shook like jelly. My breath came ragged, misting in the cold.

— Push-ups: (71 / 200)

Finally, the run.

Cobblestone streets blurred under my feet as I pounded through alleys, dodging a cart here, a stray dog there. Hunters glanced at me like I was insane, but I didn’t care. Each footfall echoed in rhythm with my heartbeat.

Thump-thump, thump-thump.

When I staggered back into the park, chest heaving, the quest tracker blinked:

— Run: (5 / 5 km) Complete

I collapsed onto the grass, sweat soaking my shirt, lungs burning. A grin spread across my face anyway. "This... this is the good stuff."

---

The inn smelled like heaven when I stumbled back inside. Warm bread, roasted meat, and stew broth hit me like a critical heal.

The innkeeper’s wife, Marta, spotted me first. Her eyes widened at my soaked clothes and flushed face.

"Training again?" she asked, already reaching for a bowl.

I dropped onto a stool, still catching my breath. "Exams... March... must... grind..."

She laughed, ladling stew thick with carrots and meat. "You’ll faint before the exam if you keep that pace."

I inhaled the aroma, stomach growling in betrayal. "Worth it."

As I dug in, the innkeeper, Roderic, strolled over. He set down two mugs of cider, the foam bubbling.

"On the house," he said with a grunt. "Academy hopefuls bring prestige. Even if they don’t make it."

I raised a brow. "That’s... encouraging."

He studied me, eyes narrowing. "But you don’t have the look of a green boy chasing dreams. You’ve got something... else."

I kept my tone light, hiding the tension in my gut. "Guess we’ll find out in March."

Marta nudged her husband, frowning. "Don’t scare him. He needs encouragement, not suspicion."

Still, her voice softened as she leaned closer. "Be careful, Mickael. Strange things have been happening in the city lately. Young men found dead in their rooms... no signs of struggle. Just... gone."

I forced myself to chew calmly, even as my stomach knotted. So the rumors are spreading even here...

That night, after the inn quieted and only the creak of wood and pop of the hearth remained, I pulled my sword free and sat cross-legged.

Closing my eyes, I reached inward. Mana hummed in my core, cool and steady. I directed it along my arm, guiding it toward the blade.

Fsshhhhh—

Ice crystallized along the steel, glittering faintly in the lamplight. For a moment, it was perfect. Then—

Crack!

The frost splintered, shards scattering onto the floor before melting away.

[Skill Progress: Frost Edge +4% Mastery]

I exhaled sharply. "Four seconds. Better than last night."

Each attempt left me drained, but also buzzing. Improvement was improvement, even if tiny.

---

As I wiped the blade, something tugged at the edge of my awareness. Not Ice... something else.

I closed my eyes again, reaching.

The world seemed to tilt sideways. My stomach flipped, weight vanishing from my body for a fraction of a second. It felt like standing on the edge of a cliff and leaning forward, except the ground kept shifting.

Bwooom.

I snapped my eyes open, heart hammering.

"Yeah, nope. Not touching that until I level up." I laughed nervously, wiping the sweat from my brow. "Last thing I need is to teleport myself into a wall."

Still, a spark of excitement lingered. Space affinity. Rare. Dangerous. And mine.

I sheathed the sword and stretched, ready to collapse into bed. The inn’s quiet was thick, the kind of silence that made your ears ring.

Rustle.

My eyes flicked toward the window. A shadow lingered near the lamppost outside.

I blinked.

Gone.

The hairs on my neck rose. My hand drifted to the sword at my side.

"...Guess bedtime’s gonna be late tonight."

The system’s glow pulsed faintly above me, steady and calm.

For now, it was just me, my sword, and the grind. But in the back of my mind, one thought echoed louder than any quest alert.

Someone wanted Michael dead.

And they might not be finished.

---