The glow of a computer screen was the only light in the cramped apartment. Empty instant noodle cups were stacked like leaning towers across the desk, soda cans half-crushed and forgotten in the corner. The place smelled faintly of dust, reheated convenience store meals, and stale coffee.
At the center of it all sat Hiroshi Takeda, twenty-eight years old, slouched forward in his chair as though gravity had given up on him long ago. His black hair was a mess, his eyes dull and bloodshot from another sleepless night. The faint hum of his aging computer was the only sound keeping him company.
It wasn't the first time he had ended the day like this.
He had thought his life would turn out differently. Back in high school, he was the one people turned to for strategies, the one who crushed games on the hardest difficulty while his friends cheered him on. He had dreamed of making something of himself, maybe even going into game design. But dreams cost money, and money was the one thing he didn't have.
Instead, Hiroshi had slogged through low-paying jobs, barely making rent on this shoebox apartment. His bank account was a joke—half drained by bills, the rest eaten alive by late-night takeout and the newest games he couldn't resist buying. Games were his escape. His only escape.
But lately, even that comfort was slipping away.
He closed his eyes, and her words echoed in his mind again, sharp as broken glass:
"You'll never change, Hiroshi. You care more about your stupid games than you ever cared about me."
Ayaka's voice still stung. Three years they had been together. Three years he thought he had someone who understood him. And then, one ordinary evening, she was gone. Just like that.
The memory of her packing her bags and walking out the door still twisted his stomach. He had stood there, too stunned to stop her, his mouth full of excuses he couldn't voice. And maybe she was right. Maybe he really was hopeless.
That night, instead of drinking himself into a stupor like some broken-hearted drama protagonist, Hiroshi did what he always did. He turned to games.
And not just any game.
Eldoria Online.
It was new, flashy, and surprisingly cheap—probably the only reason he had been able to afford it at all. A sprawling fantasy RPG that promised adventure, magic, and endless exploration. He had installed it the second his paycheck cleared, his mouse clicking with more urgency than he cared to admit.
Character creation had sucked him in for hours. He had toyed with classes, stats, skill trees, endlessly tweaking. He remembered being fascinated by one option in particular: the "Hidden Class—???," locked behind unknown conditions.
He hadn't gotten far. Just a few quests, a couple of fights with low-level monsters. But the system had been smooth, almost too smooth. The UI, the glowing menus, the sound of quests chiming into existence—it had felt real. Real enough to make him forget, for a few precious hours, how empty his apartment was without Ayaka's voice.
Now, slumped at his desk, Hiroshi rubbed his temples. He had stayed up far too late grinding mobs for junk loot. His body screamed at him to sleep, but his mind buzzed with that same hollow ache it always did when he thought about the future.
"What the hell am I even doing?" he muttered.
No answer came, not from the cluttered apartment or the half-dead computer.
His eyelids grew heavy. The character sheet was still open on his monitor, glowing faintly. The name Eldoria burned at the top of the screen. His cursor hovered over the "Continue" button.
He meant to click it.
Instead, darkness claimed him.
* * * * * * * * *
Hiroshi's eyes snapped open.
The first thing he noticed was the cold. The ground beneath him wasn't the creaky chair he had passed out on, nor the dusty carpet of his apartment. It was hard, uneven, damp. Mud clung to his clothes, and the sharp smell of wet earth filled his nostrils.
He shivered and sat up slowly, blinking against the brightness. The sky above him stretched wide, scattered with stars so vivid they looked painted by hand. A massive golden moon loomed in the heavens, larger than any he had ever seen, bathing the forest in a pale, eerie glow.
"This… isn't my room." His voice trembled.
He pushed his hands against the dirt to steady himself.
And froze.
Those weren't his hands.
They were narrower, paler, the fingers long and calloused as though they had worked tools or weapons. He turned them over, staring at the rough skin that no office keyboard could have made. His breath hitched, panic climbing his throat.
"No. No, no, no. What the hell—"
He scrambled to his feet, nearly tripping over himself. His clothes were wrong too. Gone was the faded T-shirt and sweatpants he had passed out in. Instead, he wore a rough tunic of coarse linen, patched in places, tied at the waist with a strip of cloth. His legs were covered in worn trousers, his feet in boots caked with dried mud.
His heart hammered against his chest.
This wasn't his body.
He staggered forward a step, then doubled over as a sharp pain lanced through his ribs. The world tilted. His vision blurred. And then—
Flash.
A forest, darker than this one. A boy running, lungs burning, tears streaming down his face. The pounding of heavy paws behind him, snarls splitting the night. A scream. A shadow falling. Teeth. Blood. Then nothing.
The vision shattered. Hiroshi fell to his knees, clutching his skull as if it would split in two.
"What… was that?!" His voice cracked, ragged.
The pain ebbed, but the dread lingered. He gasped for air, chest heaving, sweat dripping down his forehead.
Those weren't his memories.
They belonged to someone else.
The forest was quiet except for his own ragged breathing. Too quiet. Every instinct screamed that something was wrong.
And then—
Ding!
[Transfer Complete.]
[System Initializing…]
A glowing blue window blinked into existence before his eyes. Hiroshi flinched, stumbling back. The letters shimmered, symbols shifting until they rearranged themselves into words he could understand.
[Welcome, Player Hiroshi.]
[You have entered the World of Eldoria.]
[Starting Class: ??? — Locked. Unlock conditions required.]
His mouth went dry.
"Eldoria…?"
It was the name of the game. The same game he had been playing before he passed out.
"No way. No way this is happening."
His hands trembled as he reached out, half expecting them to pass through the glowing screen. Instead, his fingers met a strange resistance, like touching water that wouldn't let him in. Ripples spread across the display before it stabilized again.
His heart pounded. It was real. Too real.
He stumbled back, legs shaking. The night air was cold against his skin, his breath misting in the light of the golden moon. This wasn't a dream.
If it was… it was the cruelest, most vivid dream of his life.
* * * * * * * * *
The glowing window hovered in the air, pulsing faintly as if alive.
Hiroshi stared at it, wide-eyed. The words shifted once more, new lines forming.
[System Booting…]
[Basic Functions Available.]
[Synchronization: 72%… 89%… 100% Complete.]
A faint chime rang, crisp and pleasant, almost cheerful in contrast to the dread clawing at his gut.
"This… this can't be real," he whispered.
And yet—his gamer brain couldn't help but take over. His eyes scanned the display automatically, cataloging it like he always did when a new UI popped up in a game. Smooth, clean font. Bright but not blinding. Even the spacing between lines was familiar.
It was almost identical to Eldoria Online.
Hiroshi swallowed hard.
"Don't tell me I've been… isekai'd?" he muttered, half-joking, half-terrified.
The word hung in the night air like a curse.
He waved a hand cautiously toward the window, and it shifted with his motion, sliding obediently to the side. His pulse spiked. It wasn't just floating there—it was following him.
Okay. Okay. Breathe. Think.
If this was a dream, it was too detailed. If it wasn't… then he was inside a system like the one from the game.
His chest tightened. The last thing he remembered was staring at the character creation screen. Could it really be that simple? Did he somehow… fall into the game?
Another soft chime interrupted his thoughts.
[Notice: Current Host Body — Synchronization Incomplete.]
[Warning: Foreign memories detected.]
[Stability Level: 63%]
Hiroshi froze.
Foreign memories. Stability. Host body.
His stomach lurched. It wasn't just that he had been pulled into another world—he was in someone else's body. The flashes he'd seen, the pain in his ribs… it hadn't been random.
Someone had lived here before him. Someone who hadn't made it out.
A cold sweat ran down his back.
"I'm… not even me anymore."
The words came out as a whisper, swallowed by the quiet forest.
He sank to his knees, fingers digging into the dirt. For a moment, despair threatened to swallow him whole. His own life had been miserable, but at least it had been his. Now, even that was gone.
But then, against his will, another thought wormed its way into his head.
If this really was like a game… then maybe he had a chance.
Maybe this was his chance.
He clenched his fists, forcing himself to breathe.
"Alright… alright. If this is real, then I need to treat it like a game. Step one: gather information."
He focused on the floating window, speaking aloud like an idiot because, well, that was how it always worked in the stories.
"Uh… Status?"
Ding!
[Status Window Opened.]
A new panel appeared, lines of text scrolling neatly into view.
________________________________
Name: Hiroshi Takeda
Race: Human
Class: ??? (Locked)
Level: 1
Health: 37/100
Stamina: 48/100
Mana: 20/20
Attributes: Strength 7 | Agility 9 | Vitality 6 | Intelligence 10 | Luck 3
________________________________
Hiroshi stared at the numbers, his gamer instincts kicking in despite everything.
"...Wow. These stats suck."
He winced at his own voice, but it was true. Low vitality, barely any stamina, and luck was practically nonexistent. Of course, his intelligence was higher—typical nerd stats.
Still, his heart quickened. It was real. All of it.
And if there was a system, then there had to be quests. Skills. Leveling. Progression.
Hope flickered inside him, small but undeniable. For the first time in years, he felt that old rush again—the thrill of logging into a new world, the hunger to grow stronger.
A rustling noise snapped him out of it.
Leaves shifted. A low branch cracked.
The forest wasn't silent anymore. Something was moving.
Hiroshi's breath caught. He dismissed the window instinctively, and it vanished with a faint shimmer. His ears strained against the quiet.
Another sound. Heavier this time. Footsteps, slow and deliberate, crunching the undergrowth.
Every instinct screamed at him to run. To hide. But his body wouldn't move, frozen between disbelief and terror.
Then came the growl.
Low, guttural, vibrating in his chest.
The hair on the back of his neck stood up as glowing crimson eyes appeared between the trees.
And for the first time since waking in this strange world, Hiroshi realized something horrifying.
Games had save points.
This world did not.
* * * * * * * * *
The forest went still.
Not the kind of stillness that brought peace, but the kind that pressed down on the lungs and made every breath feel too loud. Hiroshi stood rooted to the spot, his heart pounding against his ribs as if it could escape before the rest of him was torn apart.
The growl came again—low, guttural, and closer this time.
From the shadows of the treeline, two crimson points of light burned like coals. They moved with the rhythm of breathing, steady and predatory. The underbrush rustled, branches cracked, and then the creature stepped into the clearing.
Hiroshi's mouth went dry.
It was a wolf, but no wolf from any zoo or nature documentary. Its body was massive, easily twice the size of a mastiff, muscles rippling beneath scorched, matted fur. Smoke curled faintly from its skin, as if fire smoldered just beneath its flesh. Its fangs gleamed white in the moonlight, long and curved, dripping with saliva that hissed when it struck the dirt.
And those eyes—unnatural, glowing crimson, locked on him with unblinking hunger.
Hiroshi's gamer brain offered the only explanation it could: Elite monster. Minimum level 10. Maybe 15.
And he was level 1.
A hysterical laugh bubbled up in his throat, but he choked it back down. This wasn't a screen with a health bar and flashy attack animations. This was real. One wrong move and he was meat.
The direwolf lowered itself, muscles coiling like springs. It was going to pounce.
Run. His instincts screamed the word over and over. Run!
But his legs refused to move. He was frozen, caught between disbelief and sheer terror. His entire body trembled, sweat running cold down his spine.
"This… this is insane," he whispered. His voice sounded tiny, swallowed by the vastness of the forest.
The wolf's lips peeled back in a snarl, revealing rows of jagged teeth. It crouched lower, claws gouging the earth. Hiroshi's vision tunneled, his world narrowing to those glowing eyes and the inevitability of what came next.
And then—
A shout broke through the night.
"Stay back!"
Hiroshi's head whipped toward the voice. A small figure stumbled into the clearing, clutching a crude wooden practice sword in both hands.
A boy. No older than ten.
His knees were shaking, his face pale with terror, but still he planted himself between Hiroshi and the wolf. His little chest heaved with each ragged breath, but he held the sword out anyway, the way a child might hold a stick against a storm.
For a heartbeat, Hiroshi could only stare, dumbstruck.
The boy wasn't trying to be brave. He wasn't trying to fight. He was just trying not to die.
The direwolf snarled, shifting its attention between them.
Hiroshi's stomach dropped.
He's going to die. And so am I.
The boy's grip faltered, his sword trembling. His small body looked like it would break the instant those fangs sank in.
Something inside Hiroshi snapped.
He lunged forward, snatching the wooden sword from the boy's hands. The child let out a gasp of shock, stumbling back, wide eyes fixed on him.
The moment Hiroshi's fingers closed around the hilt, the world shimmered.
Ding!
[Weapon Equipped: Crude Wooden Sword]
[New Action Unlocked: Weapon Combat Basics]
Another window blinked into existence.
[Do you wish to use the Element of Wind?]
(Yes) / (No)
Hiroshi's breath caught in his throat.
Wind?
He barely had time to process the choice. The direwolf roared, muscles tensing for the leap. Saliva sprayed from its jaws, sizzling where it struck the dirt.
Hiroshi's vision blurred with panic. His mind screamed at him to move, to decide, to do something.
"Yes!" he shouted without thinking.
The screen flashed.
Ding!
[Element Chosen: Wind]
[Skill Unlocked: Gale Step]
A surge of energy burst through his veins. His body felt lighter, his muscles sharper, every fiber of him buzzing as if the air itself had taken root inside.
The direwolf sprang.
* * * * * * * * *
The direwolf's leap split the air like a thunderclap.
Its massive form surged forward, jaws wide, glowing fangs streaked with saliva. Hiroshi's heart lurched into his throat. Every nerve in his body screamed that this was death, that the beast would tear him apart before he could even raise the sword.
But something else answered.
The surge of wind inside him exploded outward. His body grew impossibly light, as though the air itself lifted him by the shoulders. Instinct—not training, not skill, just raw instinct—took over.
Hiroshi moved.
One moment he was frozen in terror. The next, he darted sideways, faster than he had ever moved in his life. The wolf's fangs snapped shut where his throat had been a heartbeat earlier, the force of its jaws cracking the air with an audible snap.
Hiroshi stumbled, breathless, heart pounding. He had dodged. Actually dodged.
Ding!
[Skill Activated: Gale Step]
[Agility +2 temporarily]
He hardly had time to register the notification before the beast landed, skidding across the dirt, whipping around with predatory speed. Its crimson eyes locked onto him again, burning brighter, furious.
Hiroshi raised the wooden sword with shaking hands. His grip was wrong, his stance sloppy, but it was all he had.
"This is insane," he muttered through clenched teeth. "I'm not a fighter. I'm not…"
The wolf snarled, silencing his words.
Behind him, the boy whimpered. Hiroshi risked a glance—small, terrified, huddled on the ground.
If he ran, the boy would die first.
And he knew, with a sickening clarity, that he couldn't let that happen.
"Damn it," Hiroshi growled, tightening his grip.
The wolf lunged again.
This time, Hiroshi met it.
He sidestepped at the last second, the wind tugging at his body, his movements sharper, faster. He swung wildly, the crude wooden sword whistling through the air.
The impact rattled his arms as the blade cracked against the beast's shoulder. A yelp tore from its throat, not from pain but from surprise—the prey had bitten back.
Ding!
[Weapon Proficiency +1]
The system's calm tone mocked the chaos in his chest. His arms ached from the blow, but adrenaline drove him forward. He swung again, clumsy but desperate, battering the wolf's flank.
The beast snarled, whipping its massive head around. Its tail lashed, striking Hiroshi across the chest. The impact knocked the wind out of him, sending him sprawling onto the dirt. Pain flared across his ribs, sharp and breath-stealing.
He coughed, blood flecking his lips.
[Health: 18/100]
His vision blurred. A single hit, and he was nearly done.
The wolf prowled toward him, jaws dripping, growl vibrating through the ground. Hiroshi's trembling arms barely lifted the sword again.
He couldn't win. Not like this.
But then the system blinked again.
[Combat Hint: Use Wind to exploit enemy's weakness.]
Hiroshi's eyes widened. Wind.
He remembered the skill name—Gale Step. If there was a step, then maybe there was more. Maybe if he trusted the wind, just for one more second—
The direwolf lunged, jaws wide.
Hiroshi pushed off the ground with everything he had.
"Move!"
The wind answered. His body blurred, faster than before, carrying him past the wolf's snapping jaws. His feet skidded, dirt spraying, but he twisted with the motion, swinging the sword in a wide arc.
The crude blade cracked against the beast's neck with a hollow thud. The wolf yelped, stumbling, crimson eyes blazing with fury.
For the first time, Hiroshi saw hesitation in its gaze.
Ding!
[Critical Strike! +12 Damage]
[Direwolf Health: 54%]
Hiroshi's chest heaved. His arms burned. His whole body screamed at him to give up. But he was still standing.
The boy's wide, tear-filled eyes shone behind him.
And for the first time since Ayaka left, since his life had crumbled into ramen cups and overdue bills, Hiroshi felt something he hadn't felt in years.
Purpose.
He tightened his grip on the sword, wind swirling faintly around his legs, tugging at his clothes.
The direwolf snarled, lowering itself for another strike.
Hiroshi raised the sword, planting his feet.
"Come on," he whispered, a wild grin tugging at his lips despite the fear twisting his gut.
The wolf roared, and they clashed again.