---
Chapter 2
The world did not fade in gently.
One moment, Ren was standing in his classroom, the dull hum of the ceiling fan buzzing above his head. The next, the floor vanished beneath his feet.
Screams exploded around him.
Ren felt weightless—then the air slammed out of his lungs as he hit the ground hard. Pain shot through his back, sharp and real, nothing like the dull aches he was used to. Dirt filled his mouth. The smell of grass and rust flooded his senses.
He rolled onto his side, coughing violently.
The classroom was gone.
In its place stretched a wide, broken field, cracked asphalt merging into patches of dead grass and rubble. Half-collapsed buildings stood in the distance like rotting teeth. The sky above them was wrong—green-tinged clouds hung low, unmoving, as if painted there.
Students were scattered everywhere.
Some were crying. Some were shouting names. Others lay stunned, staring at the sky in disbelief.
Ren pushed himself up slowly, heart pounding.
This isn't a dream.
Before he could process further, a sharp, artificial sound echoed through the air.
DING.
Green light flashed.
Dozens of translucent windows appeared in front of people—floating panels of glowing text, hovering inches from their faces.
"What the hell is this?!"
"Is this… a game?"
"I see stats!"
Ren's breath hitched.
He stared straight ahead.
Nothing appeared.
No window.
No text.
His vision remained painfully normal.
Around him, excitement and fear mixed into chaos.
"I've got a skill!"
"It says I'm Level 1!"
"Whoa—there's HP and stamina!"
A tall boy pushed his way to the center of the group, eyes sharp, posture confident even in confusion. Marcus. The school's basketball star. Broad shoulders, athletic build, someone everyone naturally looked at.
"There's a status screen," Marcus said loudly. "Everyone calm down. If you can see it, don't touch anything yet."
People listened.
Ren clenched his fists.
Why can't I see it?
He tried again. Focused harder. Blinked.
Still nothing.
A ripple of unease crawled up his spine.
Then someone screamed.
"MONSTER!"
Ren spun around.
From between two ruined buildings, a small green figure stepped into view.
It was short—barely taller than a child—but its body was wiry, muscles tight beneath mottled green skin. Yellow eyes gleamed with intelligence that made Ren's stomach twist. In its hand was a crude, rusted blade.
A goblin.
Not a cartoon one.
A real one.
Its gaze locked onto the students.
The goblin shrieked.
Panic erupted instantly.
Students scattered, some tripping over rubble, others freezing in shock. The goblin darted forward with terrifying speed, blade flashing.
A boy didn't move fast enough.
The blade sliced across his thigh.
Blood sprayed.
The scream that followed was raw and animalistic.
Ren's vision swam.
This wasn't staged.
This wasn't controlled.
The goblin hopped back, chittering excitedly as it watched blood pool on the cracked ground.
"MOVE!" Marcus roared.
He grabbed a broken metal pipe from the debris and charged.
The goblin lunged.
Metal clashed against rusted steel. Marcus staggered but didn't fall. He swung again, harder, smashing the pipe into the goblin's shoulder.
A dull crack echoed.
Green blood splattered.
The goblin shrieked, stumbling.
A faint chime rang out.
Marcus froze for half a second, eyes widening.
Then he grinned.
"I—leveled up," he said in disbelief.
Before anyone could respond, he brought the pipe down again.
The goblin collapsed.
Dead.
Its body remained.
No disappearance.
No light.
Just a corpse bleeding into the dirt.
Silence followed.
The injured boy groaned weakly, hands slick with blood. No green light healed him. No system message intervened.
Fear shifted into something heavier.
"This… isn't like a game," someone whispered.
Ren stared at the goblin's body.
There's no safety net, he realized.
Marcus exhaled and straightened, something about him subtly different now—more grounded, more dangerous.
"This world gives power," he said. "But it doesn't protect you."
Another growl echoed from the ruins.
Then another.
Marcus's expression hardened. "We move. Now."
They dragged the injured boy with them, retreating into a partially collapsed building nearby. The structure offered some cover, broken walls forming a crude barrier.
Ren stayed near the back, unnoticed.
Inside the building, panic simmered.
"Why isn't he healing?!"
"Someone help him!"
A girl knelt beside the injured boy, her hands trembling but her expression focused. She took a breath—and green light shimmered faintly around her palms.
Ren noticed immediately.
The bleeding slowed.
Not stopped.
Just… slowed.
The boy gasped, eyes fluttering open.
"I—I feel better," he whispered.
The girl swayed slightly, face pale.
"That's it," she said quietly. "I can't do more."
People stared at her in shock.
"A healer…"
Relief spread—but it was fragile.
Marcus nodded at her. "Good work. Save your strength."
Ren watched from the shadows.
Healing… but limited, he noted.
The system wasn't generous.
Night fell unnaturally fast.
Cold crept in. Hunger followed. Fear deepened.
Groups formed instinctively—those with interfaces clustered around Marcus. Those without hovered uncertainly at the edges.
Someone glanced at Ren and scoffed. "Does he even have a system?"
Ren didn't answer.
He didn't need to.
The silence said enough.
The green sky loomed above them, unmoving.
Ren leaned against a cracked wall, staring into the darkness beyond the broken windows.
He still couldn't see a status screen.
Still couldn't hear a system voice.
But deep inside, he felt it again.
That pressure.
That quiet observation.
Not rejection.
Not approval.
Evaluation.
And for reasons he couldn't yet understand…
The game was watching him more closely than anyone else.
---