The city had never seemed so alive… or so cruel.
Araphat walked down the cracked pavement, the hum of traffic fading into the chaos of sirens, shouting, and distant explosions. The sky above was a gray canvas, streaked with smoke curling from the half-collapsed buildings nearby. He kept his hands shoved into his jacket pockets, the weight of the backpack on his shoulder a dull reminder that life could be ordinary even on a day like this—if ordinary even existed anymore.
Ordinary. That word felt like a joke.
He glanced at the cheap watch on his wrist. 5:13 PM. A random Wednesday. The moment itself would have been meaningless… if not for what was about to happen.
He barely had time to think.
The first explosion hit like a freight train—shards of glass rained around him, the ground shook violently, and for a split second, the world seemed to fracture into jagged pieces of sound, light, and heat. His ears rang; his vision blurred.
"Is this how it ends?" he whispered to himself, the words carried away by the roar.
A bright, searing pain tore through his chest, and he stumbled. His legs felt like jelly. He tried to scream, but his voice was swallowed by the blast. His fingers clawed at the air as if grasping for something solid—something, anything—but all that met his touch was smoke, ash, and heat.
A laugh escaped him, shaky and bitter. "Of course… of course it has to be like this. One minute I'm thinking about dinner, and the next… boom. Killed by a terrorist. How pathetic."
The pain sharpened, spreading through his body like fire in veins. He coughed blood, tasted iron, and realized… he hadn't lived. Not really.
"I… I never even had a girlfriend. Hell, I never even—"
He choked on a sob.
"…touched a girl's boobs. Not once. And now I'm… dead? Seriously?"
A tear slid down his cheek, trailing soot and ash. The world tilted, spinning around him. He could see flashes of the city, the pavement cracking, the cars flinging debris, and then… nothing.
The ground gave way beneath him. He felt the air collapse. The sound of the explosion was replaced by silence. Absolute, suffocating silence.
Then, weightlessness.
Araphat opened his eyes to a blinding white emptiness stretching infinitely in all directions. No sky, no sun, no floor—just a limitless void, soft and oppressive, vibrating faintly under his senses. His body felt… wrong. Light. Fuzzy. Detached.
He spun slowly, arms flailing. "W-what… the hell is this? Am I… dead? Am I in Heaven? Or… Hell?"
A voice answered. Cold. Mechanical. Yet calm, like it belonged to no one and everyone at once.
[Affirmative.]
[Soul Status: Deceased.]
[Location: The White Void — the boundary between Heaven and Hell.]
Araphat froze. "Wait. What? A… boundary? Between Heaven and Hell? Like… Purgatory?"
[Your death is unregistered in the cycle of fate.]
[Your soul remains unclaimed — neither sinless nor pure.]
[You are an anomaly.]
"An anomaly?" he muttered, floating in the air. "Bro… I just died in a terrorist explosion. I didn't even cheat on a test or—God, what do you want from me?"
The voice hummed, almost amused.
[System detected: Soul Recovery Protocol active.]
[Initialization complete.]
A faint glow formed before him, a halo of shifting light and swirling code fragments. Symbols floated in the air like runes, some resembling letters, others resembling shapes he couldn't quite process. The glow pulsed once, twice, then stabilized.
[Greetings, Araphat.]
[I am the System.]
[You have been selected to continue existence in a new world.]
He squinted, rubbing his eyes. "Wait, wait. Hang on. You're… a system? Like a game system?"
[Correct.]
[Destination World: Shadow Fight Universe.]
[Assigned Identity: The Prince — heir of the lost kingdom, future shadow warrior.]
Araphat blinked. "The… Shadow Fight game? You mean that mobile game with the faceless dude who fights demons and stuff?"
[Correct.]
[The Prince once broke ancient seals and unleashed shadows upon the world.]
[He is destined to face six demon lords and ultimately the Titan.]
[His soul is unstable; your consciousness will inherit his body and complete his destiny.]
Araphat swayed, floating in the infinite light. "Okay… that is insane. I just died, and now you're telling me I get to become a shadow prince in some demon-fighting world? And I don't even know how to fight properly?"
[Training modules included.]
[Combat tutorials, skill acquisition, and mission objectives will be provided.]
He groaned. "Great. Just my luck. I die… and the universe goes full tutorial mode on me. Fantastic."
[Desire detected.]
[Emotional drive accepted.]
[Motivation enhances system compatibility.]
Araphat raised an eyebrow. "Emotional drive? Oh, so you mean… I can, like, build a harem? Or something?"
[Affirmative.]
[Potential companions and allies will appear based on your choices and victories.]
He couldn't help but laugh—a dry, humorless chuckle. "Of course. I die in the real world without ever dating anyone… and now I get a multiverse harem simulator as compensation. Universe, you really have a sense of humor."
The System's glow pulsed again, more intense this time.
[Final question.]
[Do you, Araphat, wish to become the System's Host?]
Araphat's chest tightened. He thought of his wasted life, of opportunities lost, of fleeting regrets that still stung like fire. Then, a slow grin spread across his face.
"Hell yeah," he muttered. "I accept."
The void shuddered. Light exploded around him, swirling into a vortex of code, shadow, and memory. Every fragment of his old life—the mundane, the embarrassing, the beautiful—flooded back in waves. Then came new memories: battles, weapons, powers, companions yet to meet, enemies yet to fight.
[System Initialization Complete.]
[Welcome to Shadow Fight.]
Pain and light engulfed him. He screamed, though no sound emerged. His form dissolved, then reformed. The air smelled different. Solid. Warm. Alive.
When he opened his eyes, he was lying on wooden floorboards beneath a partially open ceiling. Sunlight spilled in, cutting sharp stripes of warmth across the floor. His limbs felt heavy, solid. He flexed his fingers. Real. Human. Alive.
An old man with white hair, calm eyes, and simple robes sat nearby. He regarded Araphat quietly.
"Ah… you're awake, young prince," the man said. His voice was soft, yet carried authority. "The Shadows tried to consume you again."
Araphat coughed, trying to adjust. "Uh… I'm… awake. And… what? Who… who are you?"
The old man chuckled, a soft, knowing sound. "You may call me Sensei. You have much to learn. But first… breathe. Feel the air. Taste the life you've reclaimed."
Araphat's chest rose and fell as he took a deep, shaky breath. He felt it—the warmth of the sun, the faint scent of incense, the texture of the floor beneath his hands. All of it real. All of it his.
A faint whisper echoed inside his mind:
[Tutorial Beginning…]
The adventure had begun.