CHAPTER 1: The Void
Where am I?
That was the first coherent thought to solidify in the haze. Before that, only scattered flashes, phantom feelings, textures without names, the vague sense of gravity lost. Then that question, surfacing like a bubble from some deep trench in my subconscious: Where am I?
My eyes opened, though I couldn't remember closing them, and I was met with blinding, perfect white. Not the kind of white you find in a hospital, sterile and sharp, or the kind that comes with snow, cold and reflective. No, this was a white so complete it felt… empty. A void. The kind of nothingness that felt deliberately designed. Like the blank page of a digital canvas before an artist decides whether to create a masterpiece or delete the file.
I floated. There was no floor, no ceiling, no horizon, and judging by the lack of pressure on my feet or back, no gravity. Just me, alone, suspended in a sea of silence.
I turned slowly, trying to orient myself. There was no up or down, but the instinct to move still guided me. Arms. Legs. Functional. I could feel my body. No pain, no injuries. That ruled out a coma, at least, the realistic ones.
What happened?
I tried to rewind the tape, mentally scrubbing back through time. The last thing I remembered...
...
...was what?
My mind reached, groping through fog. I remembered people. My family, faces vivid in their familiarity. My mom's laugh. My dad's lectures disguised as stories as soon as we were alone. Friends. Late-night Discord calls, binge sessions, jokes that hit harder than they should've. I remembered work, if you could call it that. Designing systems. Security protocols. Making money by being smarter than the safeguards meant to keep people out.
But the very last thing? Blank.
What was I doing right before this? No memory of an accident. No gunshot. No fire, no crash, no sudden heart failure. If I had to guess, it was instant. Lights off. Game over. Goodnight, Kaizen.
...Am I dead?
The thought didn't come with panic. Not immediately, anyway. Just a quiet, dull acceptance. Like hearing the results of a test you already knew you failed. My logical mind kicked in, as it always did when things didn't make sense. If this was death, then what came next? Judgment? Rebirth? Oblivion?
And then, as if summoned by the question itself, the light around me began to ripple.
A shadow emerged.
The figure was tall and draped in robes so black they seemed to devour the white around them, like a tear in a photograph. The hood was up, face obscured. No footsteps. No voice. Just presence. Ancient, deliberate, and entirely silent.
I stared, tension rising in my chest.
"So this is it?" I said aloud, more to myself than the figure. "This is the part where I get reincarnated into a magical land with a new haircut and inexplicable powers?"
No answer. Of course not.
Still, the figure raised a hand, gloved and graceful, and with the motion came a change.
Three glowing panels shimmered into existence before me. Holographic, semi-transparent, each floating at eye-level and equidistant in a perfect arc. Like a futuristic character selection screen in some MMORPG.
My breath caught in my throat as I read the glowing text.
MANA CONTROL- The ability to use and master all forms of magic.
CHAKRA CONTROL- Mastery over ninjutsu, genjutsu, and taijutsu.
KI CONTROL- The ability to manifest and manipulate life energy.
I blinked. Then I laughed. Not because it was funny, but because it was so on the nose it almost hurt.
"No way," I murmured, stepping slightly closer. The panels pulsed gently, as though reacting to my presence.
The voice in my head, the rational, skeptical voice suggested I might still be dreaming. That this was some kind of stress-induced hallucination. But the tactile clarity of everything told a different story. The cool energy radiating off the panels, the silent gravity of the robed figure, the sheer presence of this place... it felt real.
Or real enough.
So. Options. Three of them.
And like any good analyst, I began to break them down.
Mana Control.
This was the classic magic option. Likely the most versatile. In fiction, mana-based systems were often tied to elemental manipulation, spell-casting, enchantments, rituals, and arcane lore.
Strengths: Raw variety. The ability to cast fireballs, summon storms, manipulate minds, create barriers, teleport, basically every fantasy nerd's dream toolkit. The sky wasn't the limit; it was the starting point.
Weaknesses: Complexity. Mana systems often came with rules, chanting, reagents, cooldowns, affinity limitations, line of sight, incantation length, mana pools, and regeneration times. In short, you needed time, training, and often natural talent. And spells could be countered, blocked, disrupted.
Conclusion: High ceiling, but not ideal in unknown territory. I didn't know the rules of this world yet, and the last thing I wanted was to pick the jack-of-all-trades path and get ganked before level 2.
Chakra Control.
Straight out of Naruto. I knew it well. Chakra was more than just energy; it was about focus, discipline, and techniques that bordered on divine when mastered.
Strengths: Versatility with edge. You got physical enhancement, illusions, and specialized jutsu. Plus, it was tied to spiritual and mental development. It could evolve, like Sharingan, Sage Mode, stuff like that. If those systems were intact, the potential for growth was incredible.
Weaknesses: It required lineage, training, and precise control. Chakra exhaustion was real. And again, in the wrong hands or under pressure, chakra was more likely to implode your internal organs than save your life.
Also... too many damn hand signs. Bad pick for snap decisions.
Conclusion: Sexy, but complicated. I'd have to roll the dice on whether I had access to the same techniques from Earth's fiction. Too many variables. High risk, high reward.
Ki Control.
Now this. This was the wildcard.
Ki was life force, pure and simple. Not magic. Not mental discipline. Just raw, primal energy generated from the body and soul.
Strengths: Enhancement, flight, energy projection, durability, regeneration, spiritual awareness. In the Dragon Ball universe, there were no strict limits to what a Ki user could do. Strong will, intense training, and grit were all you needed. There were no magic words, no spells, no outside tools. Just you.
Goku. Vegeta. Gohan. They didn't need staves or scrolls. They were the weapon.
Weaknesses: Not many, at least not from a theoretical standpoint. Ki didn't require components, but it did require physical conditioning and intense training. Without that foundation, it was like handing a shotgun to a toddler.
Also, Ki was often tied to emotions. Rage, focus, serenity, all affected output. That made it powerful... and dangerous.
Conclusion: If the rules were similar to Earth's fictions, Ki was the most adaptable. The most personal. And, importantly, the least dependent on outside structure.
It was freedom.
I looked up from the panels, eyes narrowing.
"If this is some kind of second chance," I muttered to the void, "I'm not wasting it on incantations or illusions."
The figure said nothing. Just stood there, waiting.
I lifted my hand toward the glowing words KI CONTROL.
The panel surged, light bursting forward like liquid fire. It struck my palm, flowing into me, wrapping around my arm and pulling itself deep into my core. My muscles tensed. My skin burned. But underneath it all was exhilaration, like finding a missing part of yourself you didn't know was gone.
It was power. Real, tangible power.
And it was mine.
The figure raised its hand again. Another panel appeared, different this time. Red letters. Stark. Sharp. Blunt.
MISSION 1 UNLOCKED
Primary Objective: Unknown
Completion Condition: Unknown
Rewards: Unknown
The screen pulsed once, then faded.
The void around me began to collapse.
I didn't fall.
I was dropped.
White vanished into black, and gravity returned with a vengeance.
I fell screaming into the dark, arms flailing, the wind howling in my ears, heart slamming against my ribs. The world shifted from abstraction to sensation in one horrifying instant…
…and still, a part of me smiled.
Because whatever came next, I'd chosen it.
The fall ended with a thud, less of a splat and more of a body-jarring crunch, like getting slammed into a foam mat that didn't have enough foam. My breath rushed out in a single gasp, and I lay there for a moment, groaning like someone who had just been ejected from a dream and punched awake by reality.
Blackness. The kind that wraps around you like a wet towel and refuses to let go. But it wasn't just a void anymore.
No... this time, there were walls.
As I blinked away the dizziness, faint orange light flickered into view. Torches. Stone walls. Damp air. The unmistakable scent of earth and mildew.
A cave.
"Great," I muttered, pushing myself upright with a grunt. My palms scraped against rough stone. "From one void to another. Only now we've added a musty aroma."
My eyes adjusted slowly. The torches were evenly spaced along the walls, casting long shadows that danced with each flicker of flame. The air felt humid, but breathable. And eerily still.
I glanced down at myself.
Same height. Same proportions. Lean, but not weak. Hands I recognized, calloused from years of typing and occasional amateur boxing, a hobby that didn't quite match the rest of my lifestyle but came in handy during sketchy deals. My clothes, though... not familiar. Rough wool shirt. Cotton trousers. Leather boots. All medieval chic.
No phone. No keys. No watch. No tools.
Just me, dressed like a background NPC in a peasant simulator.
I reached toward my side and found a small pouch. Untying the drawstring, I felt the clink of coins and sifted through them with my fingers. Thirty in total: 3 large ones, 10 medium, and a handful of tiny rough discs.
"Gold, silver, copper," I murmured. "Classic economy system. At least the exchange rates should be familiar. Probably."
Just then, something growled.
Not a cute animal growl either. Not a hungry dog or irritated raccoon.
This was low. Guttural. Wet.
And close.
I froze, my body tensing instinctively. My eyes snapped to the shadows beyond the torchlight. Nothing there, but I knew better than to assume I was alone.
That's when the red letters returned. Glowing, translucent, burning their message into the air like fire on glass.
***---***
MISSION 1 UNLOCKED
MISSION TITLE: The Goblin Chief
PRIMARY OBJECTIVE: Kill the Goblin Chief
COMPLETION CONDITION: Kill the Goblin Chief
REWARD: One weapon of your choice from this world's past or present.
Fine Print: Weapon must be native to this universe. No off-world tech, anime artifacts, or fictional enhancements outside this system. Choose wisely.
***---***
Another shimmer. The screen shifted.
**---**
GOBLIN CHIEF DETECTED
Start Mission 1 Now?
[Start Mission] [Delay (15 hours)]
Note: You may only delay this mission twice. A third refusal results in your immediate death. No retries. No resets. No bullshit.
**---**
I stared at the options.
My first thought was, obviously, delay. I didn't have a weapon. I didn't have gear. Hell, I didn't even have a sandwich.
I glanced at the pouch again. Three gold coins. Ten silver. Rest in copper. That could buy me something decent if I had a shop nearby. Which I didn't. All I had was torchlight and dirt walls and something growling in the shadows like it hadn't eaten since the fall of Rome.
"Okay. Think," I muttered, rubbing my temples. "If I start now, I'm barehanded against a goblin chief. Assuming he's anything like the typical RPG boss, that's at least a level five or six threat, possibly more. I'm level… what? Tutorial?"
I took a step back and considered the other possibility: delay.
"But if I delay," I reasoned aloud, "and that growl is the Goblin Chief, and I fight him outside the mission parameters... I might lose the reward. Worse, I might die without the system tracking it. No stats, no buffs, no checkpoint. Just dead-dead."
Either I started now and fought under whatever system-supported structure existed… or delayed and risked an ambush with zero support.
I flexed my fingers. Stronger than I remembered. Lighter on my feet. There was definitely something new pulsing through me, even if faint, very faint. My body felt tuned, like it had been tweaked and sharpened during that fall through the void. Maybe Ki really did do something.
I took a breath, focused, and aimed my palm forward like every anime protagonist I'd ever admired. "Ka… me…" I whispered half-jokingly.
Nothing.
"Okay, fine. No beam spam. How about just... anything?"
I inhaled, concentrating. Focused on my gut, my core, my spine, anywhere I might feel that elusive energy.
Still nothing. Not a spark. Not a pulse. Not even a tingle.
Great. Apparently Ki didn't come with a tutorial.
Just then, another growl echoed through the cave. This one was louder. Closer. And it ended with a wet snarl that reverberated off the walls like a threat written in surround sound.
I flinched. My hand shot forward instinctively, right into the red glowing panel.
[MISSION STARTED]
The screen changed immediately.
**---**
MISSION 1: ACTIVE
TIMER: 29:59:59... 58... 57... 56... 55...
**---**
"…shit," I breathed.
Somewhere ahead, something shifted in the dark.
I straightened slowly, heart pounding. My eyes narrowed. My breath steadied.
No weapons. No backup. No exit.
Just me, thirty coins, and a goblin chief.
Time to see if Ki was the real deal or if I'd just signed up for the shortest adventure in recorded history.
As I continued to wonder the cave tunnel system. The ticking red timer hovered in the air like a threat. Like a noose slowly tightening around my neck.
29:35:49… 48… 47… 46…
It was oddly precise, the way those numbers rolled down. Each second a cruel reminder that I had just entered a life-or-death situation with zero combat experience and an empty inventory.
The glow of the mission prompt dimmed, fading into transparency until it vanished completely. The cave darkened around me once more, leaving only the faint flicker of torchlight to guide me.
I pressed myself against the wall and took a slow breath.
"Alright," I whispered. "No Ki blast. No sword. No armor. Just torches and thirty coins. Peak survival horror."
I moved forward cautiously, hugging the walls and listening intently. The passage ahead curved slightly to the left and dipped downward. The rock underfoot was slick in places, worn smooth by centuries of passage—or by goblin feet, if I had to guess.
I crept on, each step deliberate and silent.
Then I heard it: voices. Low and guttural, not quite human. A bizarre mix of animalistic growls and chattering consonants, like gremlins trying to speak in broken code. I paused, back pressed to the rock wall, and edged toward the source of the sound.
A wider chamber opened before me.
And there they were.
Goblins.
Dozens of them.
They were smaller than I expected, around five feet tall, hunched slightly, their skin a sickly green that glistened in the torchlight with a faint oily sheen. They were wiry, sinewy, with long limbs and gnarled fingers. Most of them carried bronze-looking swords, dulled and nicked with use. Around their hips hung crude leather coverings, likely made from whatever unfortunate animal they'd skinned.
They moved in chaotic patterns. Some were eating. Some were sharpening their weapons on rocks. Others just squatted around, speaking in their broken, guttural tongue. A few were engaged in what looked like training, mock duels with crude wooden clubs, laughing and hissing with each strike.
I counted slowly. Five here… six there… another group at the far edge of the cavern…
Fifty. Roughly fifty, if my eyes weren't lying.
I let out a slow, shallow exhale. "So this is the tutorial, huh?" I muttered under my breath. "Some people get slimes. I get goblin hell."
I didn't see a chief. Not yet or what I would assume would be a chief. But something told me he was deeper in. The air ahead had a different energy, thicker, heavier. And I could've sworn I heard something odd earlier. Not goblin-speak. Actual language. Human.
Prisoners?
That would explain the mission's tone. Kill the chief, sure, but maybe saving captives was a bonus. Or maybe the system just didn't care about anything but murder.
I crept forward through a narrow offshoot of the chamber. Another tunnel, this one winding tightly and dropping in a series of uneven steps. The stone was jagged here. Natural. I slipped once and had to catch myself against the wall. The scuff echoed faintly and I froze.
Seconds passed. No growls. No footsteps.
Close call.
I continued deeper, taking a side path and looping around what looked like an old wooden scaffolding, half-collapsed, riddled with cobwebs. I hugged the shadows as I passed by two goblins arguing in their native tongue. One swung his sword in frustration and nearly clipped the other. They bared fangs and hissed but didn't fight. I slipped past them, heart hammering so hard it felt like a countdown of its own.
Every corner I took, every torch-lit bend in the path, I expected to be caught. Mauled. Skewered by rusty bronze. But somehow, I kept slipping through the cracks like a ghost that didn't quite know how to haunt.
I ducked behind a stalagmite and took a moment to breathe.
The silence gave me space to think.
I glanced up at the now-dimmed red clock, which still hovered faintly in my peripheral vision like a heads-up display burned into my retinas.
Seemed like nothing. But time, I was beginning to understand, wasn't just a number here. It was pressure. It was blood and breath and decisions that couldn't be undone.
I sat back, back against the rock, and thought of Earth.
Of my family.
My nieces and nephews, all wide-eyed and messy and full of questions I used to dodge because I didn't think I'd be around long enough to answer. My parents, tired but proud. My siblings. My friends. My old clients, even the sketchy ones.
All of that was gone. Or out of reach. Or… worse, irrelevant now.
Because if I died here?
That was it. No third delay. No reset button. No helpful prompt saying "Try Again."
Just permanent. End of line.
Which meant I had to live. And not just survive, I had to win.
There were 50 goblins in this labyrinth. And I had zero weapons. Zero powers. No ki, no gear, no companions. Just medieval hand-me-downs and a sack of loose change.
But I had something else. Something that had gotten me through a thousand problems back on Earth.
My mind.
"If I want to survive," I whispered, "I need weapons. Fast. And the only way to get them…"
My eyes flicked to the sword dangling from the belt of a goblin just a few feet from me, dozing against the wall.
"…is to take them."
Stealth kills. Silent. Fast. Clean. Or as clean as they could be with a rock and pure desperation.
I studied the goblin. His grip on the sword was loose. His eyes closed. Breathing shallow. Vulnerable.
And if I could kill him before he screamed, before he alerted the others, I'd have my first weapon. A starter kit in Goblin Slayer Edition.
That was the plan now. Use the shadows. Take out stragglers. Arm myself piece by piece. Then, when the moment was right, when the chief finally showed himself, I'd be ready.
Or dead.
But at least it would be on my terms.
I inched forward, hands low, breath steady, eyes locked on my first target.
"Alright, greenies," I whispered.
"Let's dance."