The city, past eleven at night, still hadn't quieted. Skyscrapers gleamed like constellations, streets hummed with the tireless rhythm of vehicles and pedestrians, and neon lights flickered across every alley. The city's prosperity was evident in every corner.
Yet, prosperity always had its shadow.
In a neglected corner of the metropolis, houses huddled close together, low and dim, barely touched by electricity. This was the city's slum, where darkness dominated, and people often lived without the convenience of light. One such house, decrepit and almost invisible in the night, had an unlocked door swaying slightly in the cold wind.
The ditch in front of it emitted a rank stench, the sort that made the air heavy and hard to breathe. Inside, the room was nearly barren. A cabinet sagged under its age, its doors hanging loose, and in the center, a bed constructed from mismatched steel pipes served as the only resting place.
On this bed lay Arya, dressed in a blue-and-white hospital gown. Her eyes, pale and distant, were fixed on the blinking red aviation lights atop a tall building beyond the window. She imagined what it might feel like to be there, peering down, free of her current cage.
Slowly, she brushed the sticky strands of hair from her forehead, offering a bitter smile that barely touched her chapped lips. In her mind, she pictured herself atop that tall building, just for a fleeting moment of imagined freedom.
Arya was twenty years old. Five years prior, she had a warm, ordinary family—nothing extravagant, but well-fed and well-cared-for. That life was brutally snatched from her in a single car accident that killed her parents and left her paralyzed from the waist down.
The vehicle that struck hers had been driven by a drunk heir, whose wealth allowed him to vanish after paying off the bare minimum compensation. Her grandmother and uncle had stepped in, ostensibly to care for her. But over five years, they gained her trust only to swindle her of her inheritance and the remaining compensation. And three days ago, the last of her security was stripped away when her caregiver colluded with her attending physician to take the remainder of her money and leave her abandoned in this slum.
"The place is abandoned. No one will find you for a year. You'll die here," the caregiver had said, smiling as they left.
For three days, Arya had eaten nothing, drunk nothing. Death was no longer a possibility—it was an expectation.
"You got what you wanted," she whispered hoarsely to herself, closing her eyes and preparing for the end.
But then, voices outside broke her silence.
"Are you sure it's here? The door's even unlocked."
"Yes, I saw a man and a woman leave a few days ago. They must have hidden something valuable inside."
The door creaked as two men pushed it open. Arya opened her eyes to see them: one tall, thin, and lecherous-looking, with shifty eyes, and another shorter man, with a scar cutting across his face, exuding the aura of a thug. Neither looked friendly.
"This is the 'good stuff' you mentioned?" The scarred man smacked the tall man's hand, his voice sharp with disgust.
The tall man protested weakly, "Well, it's—still something valuable, maybe we can sell it."
"Bullshit!" the scarred man spat. "Look at this woman's clothes—it's a hospital gown! If she's been dumped here, she's near death. We're not touching this bad luck."
With that, they left. Arya, lying there, felt no fear. She simply closed her eyes again, resigning herself to death.
Suddenly, an emotionless, mechanical voice echoed inside her mind.
"After consultation between the Karim World's Will and the Blue Star World's Will, humans from Blue Star aged 18 to 55 will be forcibly teleported to Kalim World to expand its population and relieve the burden on Blue Star."
"What the hell is happening?" she gasped, just as the scarred man's voice seemed to fade.
Before she could react, her body felt lighter, as though gravity itself had loosened its grip. She fell onto something soft, the smell of fresh wood and faint floral notes wafting into her nostrils.
When Arya opened her eyes, the darkness was gone. Warm yellow light bathed the room. The ceiling, walls, and floor were solid wood, adorned with strange, dark green patterns. Beneath her, a straw-padded bed provided comfort, and beside it, a low wooden table stood about fifty centimeters high. Above the table, a vintage lantern glowed gently, tiny star-like fireflies dancing inside.
A round glass window peeked from one wall, and the door was firmly closed.
Is this... the Kalim World? Arya wondered. It didn't feel much different from the slum, aside from being cleaner and brighter. Death didn't seem imminent here, at least.
Exhaustion weighed on her. Having neither eaten nor drunk for days, she simply didn't have the strength to think deeply. Closing her eyes again, she waited.
Then, the mechanical voice spoke once more:
"Welcome to Kalim World. Kalim World is a dangerous place, full of magical beasts, mana turbulence, volatile climates, and a heavy presence of mana in the air. To survive, keep these points in mind:
Shelters with Magic Shields are the only safe places. Upgrade them to strengthen protection.
You must fight and strive for everything.
The magic desk in your Shelter has many functions; use it wisely to ease survival.
The next week is a protection period; wild or magical beasts will not actively attack, allowing safe supply collection.
Supply chests refresh randomly and may contain food, water, and survival gear. Do not rely solely on them.
Nighttime in Kalim World is extremely dangerous. Return to your Shelter before dark.
Only activated people may enter Shelters. Unless you invite someone, no one will intrude.
You will be provided with a basic magic skill, one Talent awakening, and one E-grade optional tool to aid survival.
Shelters may be near or far from each other; resources are limited, so live tenaciously."
Arya's heart leapt. Magic? Talent awakening? She could survive! Even with paralyzed legs, power beyond her imagination might be within reach.
She opened her eyes wide and surveyed the low table she had ignored earlier—it was a magic desk, just as the voice had mentioned.
Hope, that long-forgotten spark, returned. With this chance, she might reclaim her life, her independence.
Arya's gaze sharpened, determination blooming where despair had once lived. The slum, the betrayal, the pain—they had not broken her. They had only brought her to this world, a world where she could forge her own strength, where she could shape her destiny with her own hands.
The faint glow of the lantern lit her room like a beacon. Outside, the unknown Kalim World awaited.
And Arya would not be content to merely survive. She would learn, grow, and master the magic of this world. She would rise from her helplessness, from her paralysis, and claim the life that had been stolen from her.
For the first time in five years, Arya smiled—not a bitter, imagined smile, but one filled with resolve.
The journey had begun.