The fluorescent lights of the office buzzed—a low, rhythmic hum that felt like a needle scratching against the inside of Aris's skull.
It was 3:14 AM. The air was stale, smelling of burnt coffee and the metallic tang of overheating computer towers.
Aris leaned back, his spine letting out a series of pops that sounded like dry kindling snapping. For forty-eight hours, he had been a ghost in the machine. He had stayed behind to finish the "Priority One" project for a manager who couldn't remember his surname, all for a bonus that wouldn't even cover a month's rent.
Click. Click. Enter.
"Done," he rasped. His voice was a dry rattle.
He didn't feel a sense of accomplishment. He felt hollow. He grabbed his phone, the screen lighting up his tired face. A notification flashed:
[Server Maintenance Complete: New Raid Boss Added]
Aris swiped the notification away bitterly. In that digital world, effort was rewarded. You grind, you level up, you win. In this world? Effort just got you more work.
He grabbed his worn backpack and walked out into the biting morning air.
The city was waking up in a haze of grey exhaust. Aris walked toward the main intersection, his mind drifting. Then, he saw the glitch.
A small, soot-stained kitten had wandered into the middle of the road. A logistics truck was barreling down the lane, the driver's face illuminated by the blue glow of a smartphone. He wasn't looking at the road.
In a world governed by logic, Aris should have kept walking. He was tired. He was nobody. But something in him—perhaps a final spark of rebellion against a world that treated everything as a resource—forced his body to move.
Lunge. Scoop. Roll.
The truck roared past, a wall of steel and wind that missed his heels by an inch. The smell of hot rubber and diesel filled his lungs. Aris lay on the asphalt, his heart hammering with a violence he hadn't felt in years.
He looked down. The kitten was in his arms, staring up at him with eyes that didn't look like an animal's. They were deep, swirling voids of liquid obsidian.
"Lucky... brat," Aris wheezed.
He set the cat down on the sidewalk. He survived. He had beaten the "Truck-kun" trope. He let out a dry, hysterical laugh, reaching out to steady himself against a lamppost.
The cat didn't run. It stepped forward, its shadow stretching unnaturally long across the concrete, and tapped Aris's hand with a cold, black paw.
[Calamity Karma Detected.]
[Soul Capacity: Exceeded.]
"What?"
A sudden, bone-chilling coldness surged from his fingertips to his chest. It wasn't the truck that killed him. It was the weight of the "reward" for saving a creature that shouldn't have been saved.
His heart simply stopped. The street, the sky, and the cat dissolved into a sea of digital static.
Aris didn't wake up in a hospital. He woke up in a place where time didn't exist. He was floating in a void of collapsing constellations, facing a figure seated upon a throne of rusted gears and stardust.
"A soul of grey," the entity spoke. The voice wasn't sound; it was a vibration that threatened to tear Aris's consciousness apart. "You lived as a slave to a corporate system, yet you died to save a Harbinger of Ruin."
"Who... are you?" Aris tried to speak, but he had no body.
"I am the Echo of the End. A God who reached the summit and found only boredom." The entity leaned forward, resting its chin on a hand of pure darkness. "I watched you fix that code for forty-eight hours. You understand structure. You understand rules."
The entity pointed a finger at him.
"The world you go to next is a meat-grinder of 'Destiny' and 'Righteousness.' It is choked by rules. I hate rules. So, take my Eye. Take my Shop. Wake up, Aris Thorne. Break the script."
[System Initializing...]
[Syncing Soul to Abyssal Nexus...]
[World: Great Qin Empire (Cultivation Grade: High)]
[Host Identity: 4th Son of General Thorne (Concubine Born)]
Heat. Humidity. The sharp, metallic scent of blood and expensive incense.
Aris felt a sudden, crushing weight. He tried to move, but his limbs were stubby and weak. He tried to speak, but only a soft, wet gurgle escaped his throat.
"Look at this pathetic thing," a sneering voice echoed above him.
Aris forced his eyes open. His vision was blurry, but a flickering screen appeared in his mind, scanning the room with cold, mathematical precision.
[Target: Elder Matron Thorne]
* Level: 42 (Core Formation Stage)
* Status: Disdainful / Hostile
* Weakness: Old injury in the left lung. Blocked meridian in the third vertebrae.
An old woman in silk robes loomed over him, holding a silver needle that glowed with a predatory, spiritual light.
"The General's blood is wasted on a maid's brat," the Matron hissed. "If his purity is below 'Red,' we'll let the winter frost handle the rest."
Aris watched the needle descend. His adult mind, sharpened by years of corporate survival and a lifetime of reading "Villain" tropes, clicked into place.
He wasn't afraid. He was calculating.
So, I'm the 'trash' son? Aris thought, a cold, dark excitement bubbling in his chest. They think they are the ones testing me. They don't realize I've already hacked the server.
[New Quest: The First Deception]
* Objective: Survive the Blood Purity Test.
* Reward: 100 Abyssal Points (AP), Low-Grade Bone Refinement Pill.
* Failure: Exile or "Accidental" Infant Mortality.
System, Aris thought, his infant left eye pulsing with a hidden, violet fire. Show me the Shop. I need to buy a miracle.