The last thing he remembered was the sound of traffic and the cold air conditioning of the convenience store. Now, there was only the smell of rot and blood.
Yuuji Amano gasped as pain flared through his lungs. He coughed, bile rising up his throat. The ground beneath him was damp, soft, and covered in something... mushy.
His fingers clawed through layers of wet soil and fibrous matter. A severed limb lay nearby. A creature—he couldn't even name it—lay with its innards exposed, twitching slightly. Blood pooled at its side, dark purple and steaming in the cold.
"What... what is this...?" he croaked in Japanese, voice hoarse.
No answer.
The sky above was gray, tinged with violent hues. Black birds circled overhead, screeching.
His phone was cracked. No signal. His bag—gone. Clothes torn, probably during whatever "transfer" happened. The only thing left was his school uniform and the dull ache in his bones.
He stood shakily, stumbling as nausea hit him. He screamed when a growl came from behind. A hunchbacked beast, its skin covered in bone-like armor, dragged itself toward him.
Yuuji ran.
He didn't know where he was. Didn't know where to go.
He didn't understand the signs carved into the trees, or the whispers in the wind.
There were no HUDs. No stats. No swords falling from the sky.
Just him.
A sixteen-year-old boy with nothing.
And a world that wanted him dead.