Chapter 1
The first challenge.
He fell.
No sky. No ground. Just a howling abyss and a body in freefall.
What the hell is this!?
Wind ripped past him—cold, sharp, biting. Not air. Not skydiving. This felt like being swallowed whole by the world.
His eyes stung. His ears roared. The darkness around him didn't end. Time stretched.
Is this how I die—again!?
SPLASH!!
Something hit him.
No—he hit it.
Water slammed into his body like a truck. The impact knocked the air clean out of his lungs.
Gh—!
He thrashed, struggling upward. His limbs burned, lungs screaming for air.
The liquid tasted wrong. Sharp. Metallic.
Blood? Rust? What is this!?
His head broke the surface. He gasped—coughed—gagged. A sour, iron taste clung to the back of his throat.
Above him: not sky. Not clouds. Just flickering orange lights, buried in a ceiling that looked like it hadn't seen maintenance since before he was born.
He paddled, found the edge. Fingers scraped against cold metal. Slick with grime.
He hauled himself out of the pool and collapsed onto the floor, coughing up red-tinged water.
What kind of sick place is this…?
The ground beneath him groaned. Old steel. Rough and pitted, like it had rusted through and been left to rot.
He pushed himself to his feet. Legs trembling. Heart racing.
Then—he saw it.
The room.
Massive. Industrial. Monolithic.
A steel cathedral of pipes and vents. Three stories tall, walls bolted together like a prison made by a god of machines.
Steam hissed from broken valves. Cables hung like dead vines.
There were no doors. No windows. No sign of how he got in—or out.
Just a single truth:
This wasn't a room.
It was a box.
And he was the rat.
…No. I was promised a new world. I was promised—
"Hellooooo, lucky contestants!"
The voice echoed through the chamber. Bright. High-pitched. Artificial.
And wrong.
Like a cartoon character dipped in acid and filtered through a broken radio.
"Welcome to the second-ever official run of... The Box™! Congratulations on being chosen for this once-in-a-lifetime—possibly final—opportunity!"
He looked up.
Red lights blinked above the pool. Lenses. Cameras.
Watching.
Recording.
"You are the brave, the bold, the tragically expend—err, exceptional few!"
Someone's watching me.
He clenched his fists. Sweat trickled down his neck.
"In The Box, you'll face thrilling challenges! Survive, and you'll earn fabulous rewards—skills, upgrades, maybe even... freedom? Who knoooows~!"
"Fail, and… well, let's just say: no reruns."
Then—BING!
A screen materialized in front of him. Floating midair, translucent blue, like a hologram from some sci-fi movie.
[Subject #29]
Vitality: 100%
HP: 100%
Endurance: 12
Agility: 11
Perception: 10
Strength: 9
Intelligence: 7
Abilities: N/A
He stared.
Stats? Like… a video game?
No skills. No weapons. Just numbers. And even those didn't look great.
This is what I get in my second life? A low-tier starting build!?
Before he could blink, the screen flickered—then changed.
[Objective: Defeat Metal Construct — 0/1]
Wait. What?
A sound echoed above.
WHRRRRRRRRR.
Something heavy was moving. Grinding.
He looked up.
...Oh no.
CLANG!!
It dropped from the ceiling.
Eight limbs. Steel-plated. Gleaming. Bladed.
A spider—if spiders were made by sadistic engineers obsessed with body horror.
Red laser-eyes glowed like fresh coals. The thing twitched—each motion sharp, efficient. Mechanical.
Its legs scraped across the floor, carving shallow trenches in the metal.
Then—CHIK-CHK.
Blades extended from its arms. Buzzsaws, knives, serrated edges.
It didn't breathe. Didn't speak.
It just hunted.
[Objective: Defeat Metal Construct — 0/1]
His blood turned to ice.
You've gotta be kidding me.
No sword. No armor. No fireball.
Just me… and a freaking murder-bot.
The machine crouched.
Its head turned. Laser eyes scanning. Click. Click. Click-click.
He dropped low—ducking behind a broken pipe bundle. Heart hammering. Breath shallow.
Please don't see me. Please don't see me…
A red line swept across his chest.
BEEP.
Shit—
The spider's body snapped toward him like a marionette cut loose.
It launched.
CRASH!
He rolled away—barely avoiding the bladed leg that impaled the floor where he'd just been.
Sparks burst. Metal screamed.
Run—run—RUN!
He bolted. Wet feet slapping against iron.
Behind him: mechanical clatter. Blades shrieking. Hydraulic limbs pounding the floor.
No weapon. No magic. No clue!
The thing jumped again.
He dove. Shoulder slammed the floor. Pain flashed.
The spider's leg stuck again. Pierced deep into the plating.
That's your weakness.
He staggered to his feet. Dove into a wall panel—dark, narrow.
Pipes. Cables. Junk.
And—
A rod.
Bent. Steel. Heavy.
Not much…
He grabbed it.
...But it's something.
The spider yanked its leg free. Eyes scanned. Lasers crossed.
He held his breath.
Then—he moved.
"HEY! Metal dipshit!"
It turned.
He raised the rod like a spear.
The spider didn't charge.
Instead—THIP. THIP. THIP.
Tiny barrels popped from its side.
Needles.
One buried into his thigh. Another grazed his arm. One hit a crate near his face and hissed.
He collapsed behind cover. Gritting his teeth.
Long-range: needles. Mid-range: jumps. Close-range: blades.
...I need to bait it again.
He forced himself up. Limping.
"Come on… you wanna kill me, right?"
He ran toward the center of the room.
The spider twitched. Calculating.
WHRRRRR—
It leapt.
He waited—then dove just in time.
Its leg stabbed deep again.
Same weakness. Same opening.
He rushed it.
Rod raised high.
BANG!
The steel struck its armor.
No damage.
SPARK!
Another hit—nothing.
Damn it! Too thick!
The spider freed its leg. Slammed him with a full-body tackle.
He fell backward—weapon between them.
The blades opened.
No choice.
He let go with one hand—
And let the leg stab him.
SKRRRRCH.
It pierced his shoulder.
Pain exploded. But he didn't scream.
He used it.
With his free arm, he drove the rod into the thing's face. Right into the spinning saw-mouth.
CRACK!
BZZZZZT.
Sparks erupted.
The spider shuddered. Its eyes flickered.
Then—
BOOM.
A burst of smoke. One final screech.
It collapsed on top of him.
[Defeated Metal Construct: 1/1]
[Auto-Recovery Activated]
Hah… ha…
He couldn't breathe.
His shoulder throbbed—hot and wet. Blood was soaking into his shirt. His legs wouldn't move. His chest felt crushed beneath the machine's weight.
I did it... I actually...
His vision blurred.
A faint sound echoed somewhere—like a chime made of wind and glass.
Then—
White light.
Cool. Clean. Gentle.
It spilled from a hidden seam in the far wall, cutting across the rusted floor.
A hallway appeared. Empty. Waiting.
He tried to move.
Failed.
Pain bloomed in his shoulder. His legs buckled. His strength was gone.
Then—a pulse.
Warmth spread through his body. A ripple of energy. Not divine. Not human.
Systemic.
Like electricity traveling through nerves that had forgotten how to feel.
The pain dulled.
The bleeding stopped.
He gasped and sat up—blinking, wide-eyed. His wounds were gone. Not even a scar.
What…? Healing?
No potions. No spell. Just… a reward?
He looked up.
The hallway still waited, bathed in sterile light.
The spider's corpse steamed beside him—smoking and silent.
He stood—barely.
One hand brushed against his unpierced shoulder. No hole. No blood. Nothing.
The system had restored him.
For now.
He limped toward the light.
And the door closed behind him.