My name is Klaus, and I live in São Paulo, in a small studio apartment in the city center. I'm 1.70 meters tall, which is nothing impressive, and I spend most of my time alone. Not that I mind. Actually, I like it. People tire me out with their empty conversations and social expectations I can never meet. I'm the kind of person who prefers the silence of my room, lit only by the computer screen, over a crowded party or a barbecue with friends I don't even have.
I wake up every day around 10 a.m., if not later. I don't have a steady job—I do some freelance programming here and there, nothing that requires leaving the house. My day starts with a strong black coffee, the kind that burns your throat, while I scroll through Reddit or watch an anime episode I left halfway. I'm addicted to this: MMOs, novels, manhwas, webtoons. I spend hours immersed in worlds where heroes level up, defeat monsters, and conquer everything. It's a perfect escape from my real life, which is basically a depressing routine of eating instant ramen, gaming until dawn, and sleeping when my body can't take it anymore.
Today was no different. It was just another Tuesday, rainy as always in this chaotic city. I woke up with a heavy head, the result of a "Sword Art Online" marathon that lasted through the night. My apartment is small: a messy bed, a desk with my PC, piles of manga scattered on the floor, and a kitchen barely fitting an old fridge. The smell of mold mixed with cigarette smoke—yes, I smoke occasionally when anxiety hits hard—is constant. I looked through the dirty window and saw the traffic jam below, car horns echoing like a hymn to urban chaos.
I got up, rubbed my scruffy beard, and went to the bathroom. My reflection in the mirror was the same as always: sunken eyes, messy hair, an expression of someone who sees little meaning in anything. "Just another day," I thought as I brushed my teeth. Nothing extraordinary. I planned to log into my favorite MMO, called Eternal Realms, where my character was a level 85 mage, grinding quests to level up. It was what kept me sane—or at least distracted enough not to think about the emptiness.
I sat in my old gamer chair, which creaks every time I move, and turned on the PC. As Windows loaded, I grabbed my phone to check notifications. Nothing. No one had messaged me in weeks, except for delivery promotions. I opened the news app out of habit, scrolling through headlines about politics, floods, and the rising cost of living. "The world is a mess," I muttered to myself, tossing the phone aside.
Then it happened. I was opening the game launcher when a translucent window appeared in front of me. Not on the monitor—but in the air, right in my vision. I blinked twice, thinking it was fatigue or a hallucination. The window looked like a game status screen: glowing blue edges, text in pixelated font.
[Welcome to the System, Player Klaus.]
[Initializing integration with the world. The apocalypse approaches: races and beings from other dimensions will begin to invade. Prepare to survive.]
[All players receive a Random Starting Chest. Open it to obtain starter items.]
My heart raced. "What the hell is this?" I jumped up, the chair falling backward. I looked around, expecting someone to be playing a prank, but the apartment was empty. The window floated, following my movement like an augmented reality HUD. I tried to touch it, but my hand passed right through. Panic shot up my spine—this wasn't normal. I, who spend days without talking to anyone, suddenly felt a pit in my stomach, like the whole world was changing without warning. "Calm down, Klaus. Are you crazy? Must be stress or lack of sleep." But deep down, a part of me, the one devouring litRPG novels, vibrated with curiosity mixed with fear. What if this was real? What if my boring life turned into a game?
I took a deep breath and focused on the message. "Random Starting Chest?" I thought out loud, and a box materialized on the floor of my room, as if appearing from nowhere. It was made of old wood, with glowing runes along the edges, about the size of a small suitcase. My stomach twisted. "This can't be…" I approached slowly, heart pounding. I touched the lid—it was solid, cold. I opened it carefully, expecting a trap or something worse.
Inside were two items: a shiny card, like those in trading card games, and a thick black book with no title. I picked up the card first. It vibrated in my hand, and a new window appeared:
[Race Change Card: Symbiont (Rare)]
[Description: Changes the player's race to Human/Symbiont. Grants racial abilities: Healing Ability (Regeneration) - Rank C: Recovers cuts, piercings, and severe wounds quickly. In some cases, heals poisons and diseases faster. Possession/Linking Ability - Rank B: Can merge with different hosts (humans, animals), transferring powers and adapting to the new body.]
[Use? Yes/No]
My brain froze. "Symbiont? Like Venom?" I laughed nervously, but the laugh came out shaky. I had always fantasized about powers in games, but now? My body tingled, as if something alive was crawling under my skin. I mentally clicked "Yes," and a wave of energy surged through me. It was like an electric shock mixed with heat—it hurt, but also energized me. My status updated:
[Race Changed: Human/Symbiont]
[Level 1]
[HP: 150/150]
[MP: 250/250]
[Strength: 5 | Defense: 5 | Vitality: 5 | Agility: 5 | Intelligence: 15 | Mana: 5]
I felt new strength, as if my body had become more resilient. To test it, I grabbed a kitchen knife and cut my finger. It hurt, blood dripped, but in seconds the skin healed itself. "Holy shit…" My chest tightened with excitement and terror. Excitement because this was like leveling up in real life; terror because, if it was real, the "apocalypse" in the message wasn't a joke. Me, the depressed guy who barely leaves the house, was now part-alien? The solitude I enjoyed suddenly felt like a weakness—what if I needed allies?
Next, I picked up the book. It opened by itself in my hands, pages glowing.
[Unique Skill Book: Legacy of ???? – Authority of Vital Absorption (Rank - ?)]
[Description: Capable of absorbing vital energy from living or recently deceased beings to heal or evolve.]
[Learn? Yes/No]
I clicked "Yes," and knowledge flowed into my mind, like downloading a patch. I immediately understood: I could absorb vital energy at an initial 10% rate (Vital Absorption - F), store up to 5,000 in the Vital Core (F), convert it to heal—1 vital energy restored 100 HP or 50 Mana (Conversion - A). And best of all: convert 1,000 vital energy into 1 Evolution Point, which could level up any skill by 1 rank (Evolution Point Conversion - Max).
"This is OP," I thought, but the weight came immediately after. Absorbing vital energy meant draining life—monsters, maybe people? My stomach churned. I, who avoid confrontations, now had a power that required killing? The depression that had followed me for years felt heavier, but at the same time, a spark of purpose ignited. "Maybe this changes everything." I felt a mix of euphoria and dread—euphoria for finally having something beyond the empty routine; dread because, if the world was turning into an apocalyptic MMO, I had to survive.
The window blinked again:
[Initial Survival Mission: Eliminate a nearby invading threat. Reward: 150 XP, Random Item. Failure: Possible Death.]
[Location: Street below your building. A level 1 creature has appeared.]
My blood ran cold. I looked out the window—the street, once normal, now had something wrong. Screams echoed, and I saw a dark shape, like a giant rat, attacking a car. "Shit, it's now." I grabbed a kitchen knife—my starter "weapon"—and stepped outside, heart in my throat. The mystery of what would come next drove me forward, but the fear of failing and dying for real paralyzed me. The world was changing, and I had barely begun.