The words had barely left my lips—"Not this time. I won't break again"—when the world decided to test me right there in the street, like it had a personal grudge. The rift above the skyline hung open like a festering wound, vomiting out more of those green-skinned freaks. Goblins. Ugly little bastards, all jagged teeth and rusty knives, scrambling over each other to hit the pavement. The dawn light caught their eyes, turning them into pinpricks of malice, and for a split second, I just stood there, axe dripping ichor onto the asphalt, feeling the weight of it all crash back down.
This wasn't some video game reset button. This was real. Flesh and blood—mine, theirs, the poor saps caught in between. My shoulder throbbed from that earlier graze, a hot reminder that this body wasn't the armored tank I'd forged in the old timeline. It was soft, untested, carrying the echoes of a decade I hadn't lived yet. Regrets? Yeah, they pounded in my skull like a migraine. But under that, something sharper stirred—purpose, maybe. Or just the raw stubbornness that had kept me swinging when everything else said quit. I wasn't breaking today. Not when I knew the moves.
The air thickened, humming with that unnatural charge, like the whole city was holding its breath. Then it hit: the first real pulse of the Merge. Gravity hiccuped, a weird lurch in my gut that made the ground feel like it was tilting sideways. I staggered, catching myself on a parked car's hood, the metal groaning under my palm. Overhead, the sky rippled—chunks of debris lifting off like they'd forgotten how down worked. Asphalt cracked and peeled away in slabs, floating up lazy and wrong, twisting into jagged islands that bobbed twenty feet above the rooftops. One hovered right over the intersection, a twisted mess of rebar and concrete shedding dust like filthy snow. A scream cut through the chaos as a loose chunk plummeted, smashing a mailbox into scrap.
The Merge was solidifying. No more flickers, no half-measures. This was Aethelgard claiming its stake, overlaying our boring old world with its dungeons and mana crap. I could almost feel the System's fingers digging in, rewriting the rules. Tech would glitch out soon—cars stalling, lights popping—and magic would seep in to fill the gaps. Floating islands? Just the appetizer. Mana-geysers would erupt next, spewing raw power that could fry you or forge you, depending on how lucky you felt. And luck... well, that was my edge now, wasn't it? The forbidden threads I'd tugged to get back here.
A blue glow flickered at the edge of my vision, insistent, like a notification I couldn't swipe away. I blinked, and there it was: the interface blooming to life, crisp holographic script only I could see. Cold. Clinical. Like the System didn't give a damn about the blood on my hands or the fear choking the air.
[Status]
Name: Kairos Voss
Level: 0
Class: Unawakened
STR: 10
AGI: 12
VIT: 8
INT: 15
WIS: 14
LCK: 9
EXP: 75/100
The numbers stared back at me, familiar as old scars. Base human stats, nothing special—except they weren't. Not really. In the old timeline, I'd started the same, a nobody barista with dreams too small for the hell coming. But those "future trials"? They'd honed me, invisible grindstones sharpening edges no one else could see. My AGI was already a tick above average, quick feet from dodging claws I hadn't faced yet. INT and WIS high from nights poring over lore scraps, piecing together the System's puzzles while others chased easy kills. LCK... that was the wildcard, the subtle bend from my regression, whispering that fate owed me a favor. Or maybe just mocking me for thinking I could cheat it.
No time to dwell. The goblins were organizing now, chittering in their guttural tongue, forming loose packs that slunk toward the fleeing crowds. One group—five of the scouts, wiry and fast—peeled off toward the alleyways flanking the main drag. Smart. They knew the streets better than the locals already, using shadows to flank. But I knew them better. Ten years of dissecting their patterns, learning how their knees buckled just so, how their swings overcommitted if you feinted low. Past failures? They weren't ghosts; they were blueprints.
I dashed forward, boots pounding pavement slick with early rain and goblin blood. The axe felt heavy in my grip, but right—like an extension of the anger simmering in my chest. Hope versus cynicism: that old war raged as I moved. The cynic in me sneered—why bother? Save yourself, grind solo, build power before the betrayals hit. But the spark, that faint human flicker I'd felt saving the man earlier, pushed back. What if this time I didn't let the world grind me down? What if power wasn't just for surviving, but for... shielding? Stupid thought. Sentimental. But it fueled my steps, turning the run into something fiercer.
The alley mouth loomed, narrow and trash-strewn, reeking of yesterday's garbage and today's fear. I slid in low, back to the brick wall, breath steady despite the burn in my lungs. Voices echoed from deeper in—human, panicked. A woman sobbing, a kid's wail cutting through. My gut twisted. Not now. Focus. But the sound hooked something deep, a buried guilt uncoiling like smoke. Lost loved ones. Faces I couldn't save before: Mom's hand slipping from mine in the crush, Mira's voice fading under rubble, Ben's grin swallowed by the dark. I'd failed them, too wrapped in my own grind, too cynical to reach out. This timeline? I wouldn't repeat it. Not if I could help it.
The goblins came into view, slinking single-file, blades drawn. Scouts, F-rank trash, but deadly in numbers to the unprepared. The leader—slightly bigger, with a notched ear—sniffed the air, yellow eyes scanning. I waited, counting heartbeats. One... two... Now.
I exploded from cover, axe arcing in a silent overhead chop. The blade caught the leader mid-stride, burying deep in his shoulder with a wet thunk. He gurgled, staggering, but I was already twisting, yanking free in a spray of black blood. Surgical. Precise. That weak point at the joint—exposed cartilage from their shitty bone structure—I'd learned it the hard way, after losing an arm in a similar ambush back when. No mercy this time; I drove my boot into his knee, crumpling him, then finished with a downward stab through the throat.
The pack spun, chaos erupting in snarls and flailing steel. One lunged wild, knife thrusting high—I sidestepped, AGI carrying me like wind, and countered with a backhand slash that opened its belly. Guts spilled, steaming in the chill air. Another two came together, coordinated enough to pinch me against the wall. I dropped low, sweeping the axe's haft to crack one's ankle—snap—like dry twigs. It howled, off-balance; I rose into a rising cleave that took its head clean off. The last hesitated, eyes wide, but hesitation was death. I closed the gap, knife from my belt plunging into its eye socket, twisting until it went limp.
Panting, I straightened, wiping gore from my face. The alley fell quiet, save for the distant roar of the city fracturing. Bodies twitched at my feet, and that blue script flickered again.
[EXP Gained: 40 (Goblin Scout x4)]
[Total EXP: 115/100]
[Level Up Imminent. Awakening Pending.]
The rush hit me—a warm flood, like adrenaline laced with fire. Stats would bump soon, points to allocate, but not yet. The System dangled power like bait, always with strings. I sheathed the knife, slinging the axe over my shoulder, when the scream pierced the haze. High, desperate, from a side door cracked open twenty feet down the alley.
"Mommy! No—"
A mother, mid-thirties maybe, nurse scrubs torn and bloodied, clutching a toddler to her chest. Two goblins had her cornered against a dumpster, blades raised, grins splitting their faces. She swung a broken pipe wildly, keeping them at bay, but her arms shook, exhaustion winning. The kid buried his face in her neck, tiny fists clenched. It hit me like a gut punch—that scene, too close to memories I'd buried deep. My own mom, shielding Mira in our apartment as shadows closed in. I'd been too late then, too far, chasing some phantom quest. Guilt surged, hot and bitter, cracking the cynic's shell. Screw isolation. This? This I could fix.
Impulsive. Stupid, maybe. But I moved before thought caught up, charging down the alley like a bull. "Hey, uglies!" I bellowed, voice raw. The goblins whipped around, distracted—perfect. The mother saw me, eyes wide with a mix of hope and terror. I closed the gap in three strides, axe whistling. The first goblin turned half-way, blade up; I parried the clumsy thrust, the impact jarring my arm, then reversed into a hook that caved its ribs. It crumpled, wheezing. The second was smarter, darting low for my legs—I leaped, VIT straining but holding, and came down with the axe's flat smashing its skull. Crack. Done.
They slumped in heaps, and I stood there, chest heaving, the mother staring like I'd dropped from the sky. The kid peeked out, tear-streaked face going slack with awe. "You... you saved us," she whispered, voice breaking. She shifted the toddler higher, pipe clattering from her grip.
"Yeah. Well." I shrugged, awkward, the human in me surfacing unbidden— that awkward barista charm I'd lost somewhere in the grind. "Get somewhere safe. Higher ground. And stick to groups." Hope flickered in her eyes, a mirror to the spark I was nursing. Maybe it was contagious.
As she nodded, murmuring thanks, the interface chimed—soft, almost approving.
[Quest: Survivor's Instinct]
[Objective: Protect the innocent in the Merge's dawn.]
[Completed: 1/1]
[Reward: 50 EXP, Basic Inventory Unlock]
[EXP Gained: 50]
[Total EXP: 165/100 - Overflow Stored]
A shimmer rippled before me, the air folding like paper. My hand tingled, and suddenly, a translucent pouch materialized in my palm—ethereal, weightless. Inventory. Basic tier, sure, but it meant no more lugging packs. I tested it mentally, willing the looted goblin knives inside; they vanished in a swirl of blue light, gone but accounted for. Utility at last. The System's way of saying, "Good job, puppet. Now dance faster."
The mother gathered herself, scooping up the pipe like a talisman. "Thank you," she said again, fiercer this time, eyes locking on mine. "What's your name?"
"Kairos." It slipped out, simple, human. No titles, no walls. "You?"
"Anna. This is Liam." The kid waved shyly, and something in my chest loosened—a thread pulling taut toward connection, not isolation. Cynicism whispered it was a weakness, that attachments were knives waiting to twist. But duty? That old theme gnawed deeper: What was power for if not this? Control or protection? Today, protection won.
"Go," I urged, nodding toward the alley's end. "Head north—less rifts that way. And if you see blue screens, follow the quests. They keep you alive." She hesitated, then nodded, vanishing into the shadows with her boy clutched tight. I watched them go, a pang hitting hard. Lost loved ones echoed—ghosts urging me forward. I'd find my family soon. Ben first, then Mom and Mira. Change the fate I knew too well.
EXP trickled in steady now, a slow drip from the ambient chaos—stray kills registering as the System tallied the dead. My vision edged blue, stats pulsing faintly, promising the level-up rush. But then, the hook dropped: a system-wide alert, booming in my skull like thunder wrapped in ice. It hit everyone, I knew—unawakened ears ringing with the same cold warning.
[Global Alert: Tutorial Zone Activation Imminent.]
[All Unawakened Individuals: Prepare for Isolation Protocols.]
[Deathmatches Commence in T-5:00. Survive. Ascend. Or Perish.]
The words hung, unblinking, a countdown ticking in the corner of my eye. Isolated deathmatches. The Tutorial's cruel sieve, herding survivors into warped pockets of the city—labyrinths of collapsed streets and spawning horrors, forcing kills or be killed. No mercy, no teams unless you fought for them. In the old timeline, it'd broken me first time—lost Ben early, watched alliances shatter into betrayals. But now? Foreknowledge was my blade. I'd glitch the barriers, grind smart, pull who I could into my orbit.
Gravity warped again, stronger—a floating island overhead groaning as it shifted, raining pebbles like judgment. Goblins howled in the distance, more rifts cracking open like eggshells. The city pulsed, alive and angry, Aethelgard's heart beating through our veins. High stakes? This was the pulse, the first throb of a world remade. Personal drama? Every scream was a mirror to my regrets, every save a step from avenger to... something more. Savior? The word tasted foreign, hopeful against the cynic's bite.
I gripped the axe tighter, turning toward the coffee shop—Ben's haunt, two blocks through hell. The countdown burned: 4:58. Time to run. To fight. To weave a new thread before the old ones strangled me.
But as I moved, that human touch lingered—the mother's thanks, the kid's wave. Small, fragile, but real. Maybe hope wasn't so fragile after all. Maybe it was the only thing worth breaking for.
The alley spat me back into the street, chaos in full bloom. Cars stalled mid-turn, engines coughing mana sparks. People bolted in every direction—some armed with bats and kitchen tools, others empty-handed, prayers on their lips. A man in a business suit swung a briefcase at a lone goblin, cracking its jaw but taking a slash to the thigh for his trouble. Blood sprayed, and he went down howling. I could've passed him by—cynic's choice, save energy for Ben. But duty tugged, that internal war flaring. Free will versus the determinism of what I'd lived: Could I change it? One life at a time, maybe.
I veered, axe flashing. The goblin turned, but I was faster—AGI singing as I closed, blade sinking into its back. It arched, gurgling, and I yanked free, hauling the man up by his collar. "Move! Alley—left!" He blinked, shock glazing his eyes, but stumbled away, alive because I chose it.
[EXP Gained: 10]
Small gains, but they added up. The pulse thrummed deeper now, the air electric with untapped mana. I could feel it brushing my skin, whispering promises of power. The Path of Ascension loomed—awakening at level one, classes and skills to claim. Mine would come twisted, fate-weaver threads disguised as luck, but for now, I was raw meat in the grinder.
Dashing onward, I wove through the fray—dodging a tumbling chunk from an overhead island, leaping a writhing slime that oozed from a sewer grate. Slimes: acid burns and slow deaths, weak to blunt force. Noted. A pack of three goblins spotted me, charging with opportunistic snarls. I met them head-on, no room for finesse. Axe swung wide, catching the first across the chest—gore misting the air. The second leaped; I twisted, shoulder-checking it into the wall, then stomped its throat. The third got a knife to the gut, my free hand steady despite the shake in my knees.
[EXP Gained: 30]
The coffee shop loomed ahead, sign swinging crookedly, windows shattered. Ben would be inside, oblivious until the last second, cracking jokes over his usual black. Our bond—unbreakable in the old timeline, until I let it fray. This time? I'd drag him through the Tutorial kicking and grinning.
But the alert ticked: 4:12. Barriers would shimmer up soon, sealing zones. I poured on speed, lungs burning, mind racing deeper. Power's nature gnawed at me—is it control, hoarding strength against the Void's entropy? Or protection, a shield for the threads that mattered? The Merge stripped choices bare, forcing the question. Sacrifice and duty: What would I lose to save it all? Everything, if it came to that. But not yet. Not today.
A final goblin lunged from a doorway, blade glinting. I parried, countered—axe biting deep. It fell, and I pressed on, the pulse echoing in my veins. The dawn fractured further, islands drifting like omens, but I ran toward the light. Toward Ben. Toward a fate I swore to rewrite.
Humanity? It hurt. But damn if it didn't feel like fighting back.
To be continued...