I took a deep, stabilizing breath, the freezing air burning my lungs as I resolved to change my trajectory.
Even though I would never be as strong, wealthy, or commanding as my persona in that digital world, I would use it as a benchmark to drive myself forward in the real world.
Tomorrow, the moment the sun rose, I would finally get serious about my life, find a real purpose, and fix my broken routine. And finally, find my first girlfriend, hehehe.
Yep, that was the plan. Whatever happens, I'm not backing down this time.
However, just as I turned to step away from that dangerous edge, my worn-out sneakers slipped on a pile of gravel and construction debris scattered along the concrete rim. "Huh?"
In a terrifying instant, gravity seized my body completely. The world violently flipped upside down. Suddenly, my vision inverted, and I was in a horrifying freefall, hurtling rapidly from the roof toward the concrete floor that still seemed a long way off.
"What?" Finally, my slow brain was catching up with what had happened. "Oh, God!! Why now!?!"
"At least wait until I get a girlfriend first!! Dammit!!!" I screamed, loudly, very loudly as I was falling free from that crazy height.
The rushing, violent wind roared like a jet engine in my ears, completely drowning out the sound of my own desperate screams as my body accelerated through the empty sky.
I tightly closed my eyes as the dazzling, buzzing neon lights of the metropolitan city blurred together into a singular, blinding streak of white and gold.
As the crushing darkness rushed upward to greet my falling form, one final, echoing phrase suddenly crossed the deepest recesses of my mind:
Maybe it's better this way. Right, buddy?
"...."
"...."
The absolute darkness swallowed me whole, instantly erasing the roaring wind, the blinding neon lights, and the weight of my own regrets. For a long, suspended moment in time, there was nothing but a silent, timeless void.
Then, out of nowhere, a sound echoed inside my head.
[C.H.R.O.N.O.S Activated]
[Checking possessed skills...]
[Checking Complete]
[Initiating synchronization with character]
[Synchronization Finished]
['Speedrunner' ability acquired]
[All skills possessed by the character in the digital world are retained and will be unlocked once the required conditions are met.]
Wha... Speed what...? And who is that?!
What's with all this system and skills stuff? Do I have a system and a status window now?
Suddenly, a transparent panel popped out right in front of me.
========[ STATUS WINDOW ] ========
Name: Landra Aurelius
Level: 8
Active Spell: None
Attributes:
Strength: 15
Agility: 14
Vitality: 12
Intelligence: 69
Dexterity: 8
Luck: 7
HP: 360/360
Mana: 40/690
Attack: 300
Speed: 280
Accuracy: 160
Skills:
None
Magic:
None
========[ STATUS WINDOW ] ========
Name: Landra Aurelius
Level: 8
Active Spell: [Status Up (10x)]
Attributes:
Strength: 15 -> 150
Agility: 14 -> 140
Vitality: 12 -> 120
Intelligence: 69 -> 690
Dexterity: 8 -> 80
Luck: 7
HP: 360/360
Mana: 40/690
Attack: 300
Speed: 280
Accuracy: 160
================================================================
Holy shit... There really is a status window... Haha... Hahahah...
And look at those numbers—who the hell thought it was a good idea to put 69 intelligence on a level eight warrior like that? Those developers really were something else. Aren't they?
Wait... What are these question marks? And did I just see it right? 69? really!?
Suddenly, my head felt like it was about to split open. "Ugh... my head... Aaagh!"
"Aarrggggghh!!!"
I groaned miserably, my voice sounding foreign and gravelly as I clutched my throbbing temples with both hands.
The heavy, agonizing sensation of consciousness violently dragging me back from the abyss was suffocating; my mind was in complete disarray.
The cold, unforgiving asphalt pavement I had fully expected to smash into after my rooftop slip was entirely gone.
Instead, my fingers sank into the unfamiliar, incredibly soft fabric of a worn-out, luxurious old sofa surrounded by rich silk drapes.
After what felt like an absolute eternity of physical torment, the agonizing pressure inside my skull finally began to subside, leaving me breathing heavily in the dim light.
The next thing I knew, I was lying on this strange, antique sofa, as if I had just woken up from a terrible nightmare.
Wait a minute... Didn't I just fall from that skyscraper?
'... Am I not dead?'
Before my brain could even begin to process analytical situations and what with this luxury sofa beneath me, the sheer shock of a sudden, violent torrent of external memories flooded into my mind.
I screamed out loud again into the empty room, my body thrashing wildly against the heavy cushions as the agonizing pain of a lifetime's worth of intense combat, political betrayal, and rigorous military training forced its way into my brain.
The sheer volume of tactical data and historical events threatened to tear my sanity apart.
They were exceptionally vivid, deeply bloody, and entirely alien—a massive archive of a life I had never personally lived. It felt as if a lifetime of brutal warfare was being forcibly branded into my soul.
"What the hell... What the fuck was that all about? Whose memories are these?"
Panting, I lifted my hands to my face, staring down at them in absolute bewilderment.
The skin was heavily calloused, covered in old battle scars, and noticeably larger than my original hands.
I flexed my arms, fully expecting the dense, overwhelmingly powerful musculature that rippled beneath the skin in those newly acquired memories. But as I sat up and swung my legs over the edge of the sofa, a cold, sobering wave of realization hit me.
The profound muscle memory of advanced sword techniques and flawless high-tier footwork was perfectly intact, etched deeply into my neural pathways—but my actual physical strength felt completely depleted and hollow.
As if this body had been severely weakened or starved for a long time. The raw physical power required to execute those techniques flawlessly was severely lacking.
There's no way this was my original body.
'Dammit, this couldn't be. Did I really just transmigrate into the body of the tragic man from these memories?'