Chapter 1
Luck had never been particularly fond of Ark. In fact, if luck were a person, it would probably take one look at him, roll its eyes, and walk the other way. Yet here he was — sitting at a poker table in one of the city's most luxurious casinos, laughing like a man who owned the world.
He didn't, of course. He didn't even own the clothes he was wearing. Technically, the casino's coat check did.
Two women sat beside him, the kind of women whose smiles cost more than his monthly rent. They laugh at his jokes, lean close when he speaks, and pretend to be interested in his "winning strategy," which, if anyone cared to know, consisted of blind confidence and a prayer to whatever deity watched over idiots.
Ark tossed a chip into the pile with a grin that could have been mistaken for self-assurance. "All in."
The dealer's expression didn't change — professionals never flinch — but the faint sigh from the other players was enough to tell him his luck had already decided to clock out for the night.
They revealed the cards. The table fell silent.
Ark blinked. "Ah."
He had nothing. Not a pair, not a straight, not even a flicker of divine intervention.
The two women gave him polite smiles — the kind you give a stray dog before you close the door. Then they stood up, whispered something about needing "fresh air," and vanished.
"Wait, ladies! I still have—" He looked down at his chips. Correction: he had nothing.
The dealer cleared his throat. "Sir, your credit line has reached its limit."
Ark tried to laugh. "Limit? You mean my luck's limit, right? Ha! Classic misunderstanding!"
Two large men in black suits appeared behind him like summoned demons. One tapped him on the shoulder. "Sir, it's time to leave."
Ark raised his hands defensively. "Hey, no need for violence! I can walk!"
Five minutes later, Ark found himself experiencing the brisk night air in a way few men ever had the misfortune to — stripped down to nothing but his white underwear, standing in front of the casino entrance like a forgotten exhibit.
He shivered, clutching his arms. "Well, this is humiliating. But hey, at least they didn't take my dignity." He paused, looked down at himself, and sighed. "Right. They took that too."
The street was nearly empty, save for the flickering lamps and the occasional cat judging him from a distance. The city hummed faintly in the background, but here, outside the casino's glittering world, it felt colder — lonelier.
Ark wandered through the street, muttering to himself. "Note to self: never trust free drinks and flirty women. Also, maybe find pants."
He turned into a narrow alleyway, hoping to avoid the few pedestrians who might call the police on a half-naked man. That was when he noticed something glowing faintly on the ground — a soft, purple light pulsing in the dark.
He squinted. "Oh, great. A radioactive pigeon, probably."
But curiosity was stronger than common sense. He crouched down and picked it up. It was a crystal — diamond-shaped, smooth, and faintly warm to the touch. It looked valuable. Very valuable.
"Well, well, well," he says, holding it up to the dim light. "Maybe the universe isn't completely done with me. If I sell this, I can buy back my dignity and maybe a decent meal."
The crystal pulsed brighter, its glow intensifying.
Ark frowned. "Okay, calm down. I was kidding about selling you—"
The light flared, blinding him.
He stumbled backward, dropping the crystal, but it floated midair instead of falling. A humming sound filled the alley, growing louder until it drowned out every other noise.
"Alright, that's not normal. That's—"
The rest of his sentence was swallowed by light.
A surge of energy shot through him, freezing him in place. His body felt weightless, his vision distorted. He tried to scream, but no sound came out. Then, as suddenly as it began, everything went black.
When Ark opened his eyes again, the world looked like it had been through several apocalypses, maybe even a few reheats in the microwave.
He stood in what used to be a city—or at least, something vaguely shaped like one. The streets were buried beneath layers of dust and rubble. Broken walls leaned against each other like tired old men. The faint smell of iron filled the air, and it didn't take him long to find out why.
Corpses.
Dozens of them. Maybe hundreds. Some were slumped against walls, others lay face-down in the cracked streets, but all had the same disturbing feature — their bodies were shriveled, as if something had drained them dry from the inside.
Ark stared for a long moment, then sighed. "Yep. Definitely not Kansas. Also, ew."
In the center of the ruined plaza stood a massive statue — a dragon, black as obsidian, its wings spread wide and claws digging into a pedestal of stone. Its mouth was open in a silent roar, and even though it was carved, the eyes seemed to glimmer faintly.
"Ah," Ark muttered. "Of course, there's a creepy dragon statue. Because why not add that to the horror aesthetic?"
He kicked a small pebble and started walking. The place looked ancient, long abandoned. Moss and mold crept along cracked walls, and the air felt heavy, thick with stillness.
For a moment, he wondered if this was some kind of afterlife — a very inconvenient one, since he was still barefoot and mostly naked.
He wandered deeper into the ruins, the only sound the crunch of debris under his feet. "Okay," he mutters to himself. "First goal: clothes. Second goal: figure out which idiot god thought it was funny to toss me here."
That was when he heard it — a low, guttural growl.
Ark froze. The sound came from the alley behind him. Then another one echoed from his left. He slowly turned his head. Shadows shifted between broken walls.
Two red eyes blinked open. Then four. Then eight.
"...Yeah," he whispers. "I'm gonna go ahead and say this is the part where I run."
He bolted.
The creatures burst out from the ruins — massive, black-skinned beasts that looked like dogs but far too large and far too sharp. Their teeth gleamed like knives in the dim light. They chased after him, claws scraping against the stone, snarls echoing through the ruins.
Ark sprinted through broken streets, jumping over rubble, lungs burning. "Why does this always happen to me?! Can't I get teleported into a field of flowers or a bakery next time?"
He ducked behind a fallen wall, heart hammering, chest heaving for air. The beasts prowled nearby, growling low. He could see their glowing eyes moving through the dust.
Then, out of nowhere, a blue window flickered into existence right beside him.
[System Integration: Complete]
Ark blinked. "What the hell—?"
Another window appeared, overlapping the first.
[Quest Generated: Eliminate all hostile entities.]
[Reward: ???]
He gawked at the glowing text, his mind refusing to process it. "Wait, wait, wait. You want me to kill them? You do see the part where I'm unarmed and half-naked, right?!"
Before he could say more, yet another window appeared. This time, it showed a large spinning wheel covered in strange symbols — weapons, coins, potions, and a bunch of icons that looked suspiciously like bad jokes waiting to happen.
[Roulette System Activated. Available Spins: 10]
Ark ran a hand down his face. "Oh, wonderful. I've been isekai'd into a slot machine."
He didn't have time to think, and honestly, he didn't want to. He jabbed the glowing "SPIN" button just to see what would happen. The wheel spun with a cheerful chime that felt wildly out of place amid the ruin and murder.
[Reward: +3 Status Points]
[Reward: 100 System Coins]
[Reward: Mana Pistol Acquired]
A small, sleek pistol materialized in his hand — black steel with glowing blue lines running along the barrel. It hummed faintly, the same way the crystal had before.
Ark stared at it, dumbfounded. "A gun. You're giving me a gun. Okay. Progress."
He looked back at the monsters sniffing around the corner. "But… how do I use it?"
He fiddled with the weapon, and another window appeared.
[Weapon Type: Mana Pistol. Each shot consumes 1 Mana.]
[User Mana: 10]
"Ten mana? That's it?!" He groaned. "That's, like, ten bullets! And I don't even know if these things can die!"
A wild snarl answered him. One of the beasts leapt over the wall. Ark screamed and fired.
Bang!
The pistol kicked lightly, a flash of blue light bursting from the barrel. The bullet slammed into the creature's head — and to his immense relief, it actually dropped.
Ark blinked. "Oh. It works."
He fired again at another that lunged from the side. Another beam, another hit. "Okay, maybe luck hasn't completely abandoned me!"
Then the third beast jumped. He dodged, rolled, and nearly shot himself in the foot. "Alright, maybe I spoke too soon!"
Windows popped up around him like notifications from a hyperactive app.
[Status Window Unlocked]
"Status? Oh, now you show up!" he yells. "Status!"
A blue screen appeared, showing his stats:
Name: Ark Sky
Strength: 5
Speed: 7
Stamina: 5
Mana: 10
Skill: [Empty]
He groaned. "Empty skills. Great. I'm a glorified civilian with a flashlight gun."
Still, he wasn't about to die complaining. He fired again and again, each glowing bullet striking the beasts with a sharp crack. The last one dropped, sliding across the broken ground before going still.
Silence returned, broken only by Ark's heavy breathing. He looked around, half expecting another wave to come crawling out of the rubble. None did.
He slumped against a cracked wall, the pistol still humming faintly in his hand. "Alright," he panted. "Note to self: sarcasm apparently counts as a survival skill."
A new message popped up, floating directly in front of his face.
[Quest Progress: 8/12 Hostiles Remaining]
Ark blinked. "Oh, come on! There's more of them?!"
As if on cue, more growls echoed through the city.
He sighed, pushing himself to his feet. "Okay, Ark.. Think. You've got a magic pistol, ten mana points, and the endurance of a damp noodle. What's the plan?"
Another growl answered.
"Right. Improvisation it is."
He ducked into the ruins once more, ready to face whatever fresh nightmare awaited him next — muttering under his breath about how he really, really needed to stop touching glowing objects he found in alleys.