Finn Grayson died doing what he loved most: clicking a virtual pickaxe at three in the morning while surrounded by energy drink cans and chip crumbs. The screen had been flashing a warning for the past hour.
Something about a limited-time event. A legendary ore that only spawned once every hundred in-game years. Finn's bloodshot eyes had locked onto that glowing message like a starving wolf spotting fresh meat. Sleep could wait. Food could wait. His bladder, which had been protesting for the last two hours, could definitely wait.
"Just one more vein," he muttered, his finger cramping as he clicked furiously. The mouse was hot under his palm, probably overheating like everything else in his tiny apartment. "Come on, come on, just a little more."
His heart was racing. Not from excitement, though that was part of it. Something felt wrong. His chest was tight, his left arm tingling in a way that probably should have concerned him. But the ore was right there, ninety-eight percent mined, the progress bar glowing a beautiful gold that promised rare loot and bragging rights on the forums.
Ninety-nine percent. Finn's vision blurred. The room spun slightly, but he kept clicking. His entire existence had narrowed down to this one moment, this one precious node of digital stone that would make the last seventy-two hours of grinding worth it.
One hundred percent. The screen exploded in celebratory fireworks. Confetti rained down over his character.
A choir of angels sang in eight-bit glory. Finn smiled, a genuine expression of pure joy spreading across his pale, unwashed face.
Then his heart stopped. Literally. The last thing Finn saw before everything went dark was his character doing a victory dance, and the chat box filling with congratulatory messages from his guild mates who had no idea their most dedicated member had just died at his desk.
When Finn opened his eyes again, he was not in a hospital. He was not in his apartment. He was standing in a vast white space that stretched endlessly in every direction, so bright and clean it hurt to look at.
"Where the hell am I?" Finn asked, his voice echoing strangely in the emptiness.
"Language, please," said a gentle voice that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. "You are currently in the Afterlife Processing Center."
"Welcome, Finn Grayson. You have died."
Finn blinked. Then he laughed, a short, disbelieving sound. "No way. This is a dream. I fell asleep at my desk again."
"I am afraid not. Your cause of death was cardiac arrest brought on by severe dehydration, malnutrition, and approximately ninety-six consecutive hours of gaming without proper rest."
"You died clutching a gaming mouse. Your last words were 'just one more vein.' It was, statistically speaking, a very predictable death."
The words sank in slowly, like stones dropping into deep water. Finn looked down at his hands. They looked normal.
He felt normal, except for the complete absence of the crushing fatigue that had become his constant companion. Actually, he felt better than he had in years.
"Oh," Finn said quietly. "So I really died. Huh."
"Yes. Now, we must discuss your options for what comes next."
A figure materialized in front of him, though calling it a figure was generous. It looked more like a floating clipboard with a vaguely humanoid glow around it. The clipboard flipped open, pages rustling despite the complete lack of wind.
"As a deceased mortal with a relatively neutral karmic balance, you have two options."
"Option One: Proceed directly to your designated afterlife realm for eternal rest and reflection."
"Option Two: Accept reincarnation into another world as part of our Interdimensional Relocation Program."
"This option comes with certain benefits, including skill retention and a support system to help you adapt."
Finn's gamer instincts kicked in immediately. "What kind of support system? Like a tutorial? Starter gear?"
"In a manner of speaking. You would be granted a system suited to your skills and interests."
"Given your extensive experience with mining simulation games, approximately fourteen thousand hours logged across various titles, you would be eligible for our Mining and Crafting specialization."
"Wait, seriously?" Finn's eyes lit up with the same intensity they had right before his fatal clicking spree. "I could actually be a miner? Like, in real life? Well, in another life?"
"Correct. You would be designated as an SSS-Rank Miner, the highest possible classification."
"Your system would provide guidance, skill progression, and various quality-of-life features."
"However, I must warn you that this world contains real danger. Unlike your games, death would be permanent. There are monsters, dungeons, political conflicts, and various other hazards."
Finn did not hesitate. "I'll take it. Option Two. Definitely Option Two."
The clipboard seemed to sigh, though it had no mouth. "You did not even ask about the specific world, the survival rate, or the terms and conditions."
"Don't need to. Eternal rest sounds boring. I just spent my entire life clicking rocks on a screen. If I can do it for real, with actual stakes and actual rewards, then sign me up."
"Where do I start?"
"Very well. Please be aware that your system guide will be... unconventional."
"We had a batch of experimental units that needed field testing. You will be paired with Unit P-38, designation Pebble. It has a tendency to be verbose, somewhat demanding, and has what we call a strong personality."
"Yeah, yeah, I've dealt with annoying tutorial NPCs before. How bad could it be?"
The clipboard glowed brighter. "Your reincarnation will begin now. Good luck, Finn Grayson. Try not to die the same way twice."
The white space shattered like glass. Finn fell through darkness, through stars, through colors that had no names. He felt his body dissolving and reforming, memories compressing and expanding, everything he was being squeezed through a space too small and then suddenly released.
He hit the ground hard, grass cushioning his fall but not enough to prevent the wind from being knocked out of his lungs. Finn gasped, rolled onto his back, and stared up at a sky so blue and clear it looked fake. Two suns hung overhead, one golden and one pale silver, both shining down with gentle warmth.
"What the..." Finn sat up slowly, taking in his surroundings. Rolling hills of green grass stretched in every direction.
In the distance, he could see a forest, mountains, and what looked like ruins of some kind. The air smelled clean, fresh, completely unlike the stale recycled air of his apartment.
A small weight settled on his shoulder. Finn turned his head and came face to face with a rock. Not a metaphorical rock. An actual small, gray, perfectly ordinary-looking rock sitting on his shoulder like it belonged there.
The rock's surface suddenly cracked open, revealing two glowing blue eyes that blinked at him with surprising expressiveness. "Finally! Do you have any idea how long I have been waiting?"
"The transition took forever! I was starting to think you got lost in the void or something!"
The rock was talking. The rock was complaining. The rock had a voice that sounded like a hyperactive child who had consumed way too much sugar.
Finn stared. "You're Pebble?"
"Of course I am Pebble! Who else would I be? A decorative stone? A paperweight?"
"Now listen up, new host, because we have a lot of work to do and I am not going to repeat myself!" The rock's eyes glowed brighter, and suddenly two translucent windows appeared in the air in front of Finn's face, projecting directly from Pebble's eyes like a pair of tiny holographic projectors.
[System Activated!]
[Welcome, Finn Grayson, SSS-Rank Miner!]
[Current Level: 1]
[Tutorial Quest Available: Mine Your First Block!]
Finn looked at the windows, and then looked at the talking rock on his shoulder. After that he looked at the beautiful fantasy world spreading out around him, real and solid and full of possibility. Then he started laughing, a genuine sound of delight that echoed across the empty hills.
"Alright, Pebble," Finn said, grinning wider than he had in years. "Let's go mining."