The young goblin was in the process of hunting its prey, and while hiding in the tall crimson red grass it waited for an opportunity to ambush the weak rabbit.
Unlike the other monsters inhabiting their planet, goblins possessed the ability to create tools and moved in large groups, which allowed them to overpowered stronger opponents.
With a small stone axe in its right hand and a sinister smile, it sprinted to the unaware creature ready to slash its neck.
At that moment horrifying screams that undoubtedly belonged to its kin were heard from the nearby goblin village, scaring the rabbit, which, realizing the deadly predicament it was in, hastily run away from the surprised goblin, easily escaping the goblins grasp through sheer agility and speed.
The goblin, curious about the screams and angry of losing its prey, quickly rushed to the village.
Upon arriving, it witnessed a scene of a complete slaughter, with the remains of its species scattered across the entire village, and a young man standing still, whose blade was covered in the blood of its kin.
[3 hours before, Earth]
"Ahh, it so hot", I sighed as sweat had painted my white shirt grey.
After finishing my shift at the nearby supermarket, I turned into a narrow alley that served as a shortcut to my apartment. It was a long, cracked corridor of urban decay, the kind of place most people avoided—unless they had no other choice.
As I walked, the smell of rot and piss assaulted my nose. Broken glass and used needles lying on the ground. The alley was quiet, except for the low, slurred murmurs of addicts collapsed against the walls.
One of them caught my attention—a man no older than forty, his face sunken, eyes vacant. His limbs were gone—both arms and a leg, severed crudely at the joints.
As I walked closer, I noticed more. The man's left eye was glassy, clearly a prosthetic. His mouth twitched, involuntarily. Half of his fingers on the one remaining hand were missing—cut clean, as if offered willingly. What remained of him wasn't a man, but a collection of needs and wounds wrapped in skin.
Beside him stood a tall man in a black suit, polished shoes untouched by the filth around him. His dark hair was slicked back, his mustache sharp and neat. A golden pocket watch swung from his vest like a pendulum, catching the light.
"Ten thousand," the man said casually, flipping the watch closed. "One more limb. Entertain me."
The addict whimpered, his one remaining leg trembling as he tried to shuffle closer, dragging himself forward with raw stumps and sheer desperation.
"Please... just a finger," he begged, tears mixing with the grime on his face.
The man in the suit chuckled, not cruelly—but with the detached amusement of someone watching a street magician. He pulled a crisp bill from his coat pocket and held it just out of reach, dangling it like bait.
"Ah, but that's not what we agreed on," he said with a playful tone. "A limb, not a fragment."
A blade appeared—sleek, surgical. The addict stared at it with a mix of horror and hunger, before finally nodding. He didn't even ask for anesthesia.
I turned away, not out of fear—but out of something colder. Disgust. Contempt. Not just for the addict, who had traded his humanity for chemical bliss, but for the man beside him who was the embodiment of everything I hated in the world.
I kept walking, not wanting to get pulled into that kind of madness. But just as I passed, I felt a chill on my neck—like being grazed by a shadow.
I turned slightly, just enough to glance back.
The man in the suit was watching me... smiling. But not mockery nor a threat. It was gentle, almost polite. Like a lion smiling at a passing deer.
-...
The rich didn't just control everything. They fed on us—literally.
The gap between rich and poor had always existed, but in the 22nd century, it had metastasized. The powerful didn't just rule—they played god. Money wasn't just influence anymore. It was truth. It was power. It was permission to be inhuman.
As I was filled with such thoughts, the air surrounding me started to feel heavier ...
The space in front of me started to bend and a few seconds later, a weird object ... no an unfamiliar existence had formed in front of my eyes.
As if the world itself split in half, I could only see the reflection of my surroundings in the mirror-like substance with a man standing in the middle of it.
An ordinary-looking young man in his 20's, with short dark hair, and a physique that lacked any attractive features, was staring back at me with eyes filled with curiosity.
That was no doubt my reflection.
I could feel a strange power coming from it, in my entire life I had never experienced something so thrilling.
A message appeared in front of me.
[Challenger in proximity to a rift, displaying current battle prowess]
-Stats
Vitality: 0.6
Endurance: 0.4
Strength: 1.1
Agility: 1.3
Sense: 1.6
???: 0
???: 0
???: 0%
After a few seconds of seriously considering the possibility of having hallucinations from any of the toxic fumes in the alley, I quickly reconsidered and started to assess the inexplicable situation I was in.
At that moment I recalled all those novels I had read when I was a teenager, which always involved the main protagonist acquiring a god-like ability after being transported to another universe and becoming a hero ...
"But why are my stats so unbalanced ... fuck I now regret not exercising more ... well smoking probably didn't help either"
Filled with excitement and curiosity and in fear of anyone else seizing the potentially life-changing opportunity that was presented to me, I entered the rift.
....