Veyth awoke in nothing. Absence itself. Not sleep, not unconsciousness - pure absence devouring light, sound, and memory. No rancid curry stench, no mattress springs digging into his back, no flickering anime glow. Just void. Absolute sensory deprivation that erased the concept of feeling. Panic tried to claw up a throat he didn't possess. He floated in nonexistence, he reached with his hand to his chest, nothing, he was trying to move something that didn't exist, he squirmed in a body that just wasn't, he could think, and so he did, he thought why he was there, why he could still think, was this death? Must be, he did die, but how? He didn't know, he just, waited.
Then light bloomed - wrong light. Harsh, unwavering crimson forming a perfect rectangle in the emptiness. Words burned within it without warmth, or, with such coldness he didn't expect from such a light:
POST-DEATH ASSESSMENT: VEYTH KARN.
BIOLOGICAL FAILURE: MYOCARDIAL INFARCTION.
INITIATING POST-DEATH TRANSFER PROTOCOL.
Recognition slammed into his formless consciousness. Transfer? Anime tropes and webnovel fantasies flooded his mind, all those power fantasies, all those useless hand/digitally-dawn rapidly changing images to show what they thought a good story could be, would actually be useful for something other than keeping himself alone, keep him in a state where everything bad didn't matter. Bitter amusement warred with desperate hope, he thought, all this was so, so common, a system? He could laugh, but this was real, not a show, real, he wasn't supposed to laugh, and even if he tried, he bet he couldn't. A system? So common, cliché, in stories, it would flop if it started like this, but this one seemed blood-red, no common, but it didn't matter, it was a system, it would follow all the topes, all the same path all systems went, boost the MC to astronomical heights. But if it means he is going to another world, he would be the one going to astronomical heights, he was going to become god, it was fine then, if he was the one having the system... The black and blood-red text dissolved, reformed into another cold message:
YOU HAVE BEEN GRANTED THE ULTIMATE EVOLUTION & ADAPTATION SYSTEM.
STAT EVOLUTION PARAMETERS: YOU HAVE BEEN ALLOCATED 12 STATISTICS FOR EVOLUTIONARY ENHANCEMENT.
EVOLUTION WILL CYCLE THROUGH EACH STATISTIC IN YOUR PRIORITIZED ORDER.
IF A STATISTIC IS DEEMED NON-ESSENTIAL, THE CYCLE PROCEEDS TO THE STAT BELOW THE NON-ESSENTIAL STAT AFTER 5 SECONDS OF UPGRADING THE NON-ESSENTIAL STAT. SUGGESTED PRIORITY LIST GENERATED FOR OPTIMAL HOST SURVIVAL.
MODIFICATION PERMITTED BEFORE CONFIRMATION.
CONFIRMATION INITIATES TRANSPORT AND IMMEDIATE EVOLUTION CYCLE.
Two lists materialized. Right: YOUR PRIORITY, blank beside twelve entries Left: SUGGESTED PRIORITY glowing soft blue:
HARMONY: Optimizes biological systems for situational adjustments (e.g., +1inch height extension if something is too far). But this is not the stat's main reason...
LIFE: Gives life itself, mainly for increasing the lifespan of the host, but can be used in other ways
STRENGTH: Augments muscle density and force output to be higher.
DURABILITY: Enhances structural integrity of bones/tissues to be more resilient.
ENDURANCE: Increases cardiovascular efficiency, able to do things for longer, as uses energy better.
STAMINA: Boosts energy reserves, directly increases energy, but can still be used inefficiently.
AGILITY: Improves neuromuscular coordination as well as flexibility in the joints, and muscle stretchiness.
SPEED: Augments MAX-movement velocity to be higher.
PERCEPTION: Heightens sensory acuity/spectrum range to be able to sense more.
CHARISMA: Enhances social perception/presence.
LUCK: Marginally increases favorable outcome probability.
CELL RESISTANCE: Bolsters defense against toxins/poison/microscopic threats.
Veyth's spectral sneer formed. Harmony first? For temporary height boosts? Pathetic, he bets the main use would be for what? Getting a bit stronger to pick up a snack bar? Useless. And Life? His contempt solidified. Why waste stats on longevity when I'll conquer whatever nauseatingly cute or cloy fantasy world i go to in weeks? Power first. Always.
He dragged STRENGTH to the top slot. Crush everything. AGILITY and SPEED followed - useful for combat. PERCEPTION might spot loot. CHARISMA and LUCK sank lower - weakling crutches. CELL RESISTANCE sounded niche but tolerable and may be useful.
His attention snagged on HARMONY. "Not the stat's main reason..." flashed mockingly. Probably more garbage about reaching high shelves. With dismissive finality, he shoved it to the bottom. LIFE landed just above it. Conquerors don't need safety nets.
His final list glared back:
STRENGTH
AGILITY
SPEED
PERCEPTION
DURABILITY
ENDURANCE
STAMINA
CHARISMA
LUCK
CELL RESISTANCE
LIFE
HARMONY
Perfect. Efficiency over cowardice. The blue suggestion list looked laughable, before he pressed confirm, he thought about what he would do in that so called other world, use his knowledge from his original world to make stuff never seen in the other world, soap? That could work, probably make clothes, get rich, maybe by a slave, actually, many, he wasn't going to "save" them by buying them, seriously, who would waste money like that? He would use them for whatever he wanted to to do, most likely farm, but there were so many possibilities, but he has to get them to do magic, after all, if one of them is actually talented, he has to paint himself as "good", after all, if they did grow powerful, he would have to make them obey him, and they wouldn't do that if they knew what he was, which would probably happen, after all, if he was in those horrible stories, many slaves would have a talent for magic, he would be atop of the would, raise it to the heavens, and hold it tight by the neck as its ruler, he couldn't wait. So he pressed the little red window that said "confirm", He was going to do so so so much, he was going to be god, he was going to laugh all the way, if he died, he would go to hell, but if he did, he would go, laughing.
The void convulsed, glowing brighter and brighter. Two words flashed crimson: STUPID CHOICE.
Reality hammered into him. Searing heat. Blinding dual suns - one sickly yellow, one furious white - blazing in a bruised purple sky. Air thicker than soup scorched his throat. He stumbled, cheap sneakers melting on grey sand that glittered like crushed glass. His grease-stained shirt clung, sweat evaporating instantly.
Veyth: "This is the other world? A fucking convection oven, seriously?"
A red window snapped into his vision: INITIATING STAT EVOLUTION CYCLE. EVOLVING STAT: STRENGTH.
Agony detonated.
Bones splintered like dry kindling. Muscles tore with wet, ripping sounds beneath his skin. His skeleton felt rearranged by a sledgehammer, reconstruction lagging behind demolition. He screamed - a raw, silent shriek in the desert's furnace breath - as femurs cracked under hydraulic pressure. Organs ruptured. Darkness swallowed him whole.
Calm. Infinite, terrifying calm.
He floated as blue mist, formless and weightless, he died again, why? Yeah, Why? He didn't know. He looked up, he blue mist soul moved as if it were something physical. Before him yawned a swirling vortex of pure white light - he was staring to hear whispers in his head, something about a engine, was that white vortex that? Probably, he didn't know, Its serene pull promised oblivion. Peace. Final rest. He floated ever closer, like he was laying in water.
Memories dissolved like sugar in water: Jason's pitying face, his stolen code, his mother's unanswered text. Static filled the gaps. Tranquility beckoned. He reached toward the light. Maybe, peace, maybe he was going to rest now, maybe, he was going to be calm, forever now, the thought didn't shoot though his mind, it didn't make him scared, but, calm.
Ding.
EVOLUTION CYCLE CONTINUES. EVOLVING STAT: STRENGTH.
Agony reignited. Spectral muscles tore. Tendons snapped. Five seconds of bone-grinding torment, the same terrible pain that killed him, his imaginary heart ripped apart countless times in a second, ripping more and more even after it was already ripped, for, it didn't exist, but the pain made it seem like he did have one, actually, this was the first time, he didn't have a heart, both physically, technically, spiritually, as no spirit has an actual heart, and metaphorically, well, he probably didn't care, he never did. The pain, then, as abrupt as the pain appeared, tearing him apart, it ceased.
EVOLVING STAT: AGILITY.
More pain, but it was differant now, like that made it any better. Nerves caught fire. Imaginary joints dislocated and relocated in staccato frenzy. Five seconds of neural lightning, it stopped again.
EVOLVING STAT: SPEED.
His heart became a runaway piston. Skin peeled from phantom friction. Five seconds of velocity torture, stopped.
The cycle marched on - PERCEPTION (senses exploding into white noise), DURABILITY (organs crushed by invisible vices). Each stat inflicted its unique torment for five excruciating seconds before stopping all at that nice, 5 seconds, even though he wanted it to be less than 0 seconds, he didn't know if that was possible, he didn't care.
EVOLVING STAT: LIFE.
The Engine's peace that remained, shattered. Countless black hands - solid void shaped into skeletal claws - erupted from darkness. They clamped his mist-form, ripping him backward. Existential terror eclipsed physical pain. The white light shrank to a pinprick, vanished. And with it vanishing, another system window:
DEATH DETECTED, UNABLE TO KEEP STAT EVOLUTION, RESETTING STATS TO PREVIOUS SUCCSESFUL EVOLUTION, NON DETECTED, RESETTING STATS TO BASE LINE...
He convulsed on burning sand, reborn and whole. The red window flashed: REVIVAL COMPLETE. RESUMING EVOLUTION CYCLE. EVOLVING STAT: STRENGTH.
"No-" he rasped.
Muscles tore. Bones shattered. Darkness.
Again. The blue mist. The Engine's pull. Weaker now, tainted by dread.
Ding. EVOLVING STAT: STRENGTH.
Agony. Five seconds. Next stat. Agony. Five seconds. The mechanical cycle continued - SPEED, PERCEPTION, DURABILITY. Each death a fresh hell. Each something Engine violation deeper.
EVOLVING STAT: LIFE. RESETTING STATS TO BASE LINE
Black hands. Ripping. Return, at the 5th death, he didn't want more, who would?
He revived retching on sand. The window declared: EVOLVING STAT: STRENGTH.
"No! STOP!" The scream tore from his charred throat, born of shattered nerves and primal terror.
The window flickered. CYCLE HALTED.
Silence. Only his ragged sobs and the hiss of evaporating sweat. He could have stopped it anytime. The realization was a second sucker punch. He'd endured five hells... needlessly.
He crawled upright, sand scorching his palms. Twin suns hammered the glass dunes. Nothing moved in the kiln-like waste.
Move or bake. He staggered directionless, sneakers thin armor against burning ground. Heat drilled into his soles. Air seared his lungs. Meat on a grill.
A notification flickered: ADAPTATION: HEAT RESISTANCE +1% (CUMULATIVE: 1%).
Adaptation? He focused. The red window expanded:
ADAPTATION MECHANISM: HOST BIOLOGY ADJUSTS TO REPEATED TRAUMA/EXPOSURE.
MANIFESTATION: ENHANCED RESISTANCE TO SPECIFIC STRESSORS (E.G., HEAT, TOXINS, TRAUMA TYPES).
PROGRESSION: +1% RESISTANCE PER SIGNIFICANT EXPOSURE/INJURY.
SCOPE: LOCALIZED OR SYSTEM-WIDE.
PERMANENCE: ACCUMULATES ACROSS DEATHS. IRREVERSIBLE.
Veyth dismissed it with a mental sneer. Getting burnt makes it harder to get burnt? Big deal. He trudged on. +2%. +3%. Meaningless numbers against the furnace.
Exhaustion turned his legs to lead. His tongue swelled, mouth a desiccated cave. The suns hung motionless. His foot snagged rock.
Impact. Temple met stone. Crack.
Darkness.
Blue mist. Engine light. Dread heavier than peace.
Ding. The cycle resumed. STRENGTH. Agony. AGILITY. Agony. SPEED. Agony. Five seconds each. Unrelenting.
EVOLVING STAT: LIFE. RESETTING STATS TO BASE LINE
Black hands. Violent extraction. Rebirth.
He revived curled near the killer rock. Skull-throbbing phantom pain. Heat renewed its assault. +37% resistance felt like a taunt, he thought sarcastically, "wow, he used to die a minute, now he dies after 22 something seconds more..."
Shelter. Now.
Desperation sharpened his gaze. There - jagged basalt teeth biting the purple sky. A shadowed fissure at their base. A cave.
Hope, thin and desperate, sparked. He stumbled toward it. Sand burned (+40% now, a hollow victory). The rocks radiated stored heat, but marginally less than open waste. He squeezed into the fissure.
Coolness washed over him - not cold, but the stunning absence of hammer-blow heat. The fissure opened into a small cavern, ten feet deep, walls striated by light from the narrow entrance. Coarse sand covered the floor.
Veyth collapsed against the back wall, trembling. Not from cold - from nerve-shredding exhaustion and the echo of dissolution. Silence pressed in, broken only by his shuddering breaths. Wind moaned outside. Twin suns blazed, indifferent.
He was alive. Hidden. Alone. The system slept. The Engine's memory faded.
Veyth stared at the dust motes dancing in a sunbeam: "Life stat revives me. Why?"
A red window appeared: LIFE STAT PRIMARY FUNCTION: LIFESPAN EXTENSION. REVIVAL IS SECONDARY PROTOCOL ACTIVATED WHEN PRIMARY FUNCTION IS IMPOSSIBLE (I.E., HOST DEATH) = LIFE SPAN EXTENSION IS IMPOSSIBLE FOR A DEAD PERSON.
He frowned. "And Harmony? Why's it useful?"
The window remained. No answer. He tried again. "What's Harmony's real purpose?" the window finally reacted:
HARMONY IS TO ADJUST THE HOST ENDURANCE TO STAT EVOLUTION'S EFFECTS, IF YOU WOULD HAVE PUT IT AT THE TOP, YOU WOULD HAVE NOT DIED.
Veyth sighed, then said: "Anything else?" the window closed then reopened:
HARMONY IS TO ADJUST THE HOST ENDU-
He snorted. Dumb machine. His gaze drifted to the cave mouth: "This world... anything actually alive out there?"
WORLD STATUS: BIOLOGICAL ACTIVITY DETECTED.
"Meaning bugs and bacteria," he muttered, he bets if he asked something similar it would say the same thing, after all, this system was unlike any system he knew, and from what he learned so far, it was more mechanical, and emotionless than many, and it seemed to not want to give unique answers and just say the same answer to similar questions. Arrogance warred with bone-deep fatigue.
Veyth: "Fuck, I'm so damn tired." He closed his eyes, not to sleep, but to escape. No red text. No white light. No black hands. Just rough rock, grit under his fingers, and the vast, burning grey waiting outside. Conquest could wait. For now, hiding was enough.