Light stabbed through my eyelids.
For a long second, I couldn't tell if I was still trapped inside that blinding blue world or if my eyes were simply refusing to open. My skull throbbed—heavy, rhythmic—like something was trying to claw its way out from the inside.
When I finally forced my eyes open, the same cracked ceiling greeted me. Same peeling paint. Same sunlight bleeding through the torn curtain.
I was still in that room.
The silence pressed against my ears. The only sound was my own uneven breathing. My body felt… wrong. Lighter, yet hollow, as though I'd run a marathon in my sleep.
Then—
{Congratulations, Host. The System is now fully synchronized.}
The voice rang clearly inside my mind. Calm. Neutral. Too calm.
I froze. "System? What… what are you?"
{I am the System. I am here to assist you in your second life.}
The words appeared before me as glowing blue text, suspended in the air like a projection only I could see.
"Assist? Assist with what exactly?" I asked.
{With your journey in this new life. The System is gifted to chosen Hosts to help them rise and reach the pinnacle of power in this world. A Host is selected every few generations. Since the previous Host has perished, you have now been chosen.}
I sat up too fast, and the world spun. My vision blurred at the edges. "Wait—hold on. You're saying you're in my head?"
{Affirmative. Neural link complete.}
I blinked hard, trying to steady my breathing. "Then what do you actually do?"
{Observation. Guidance. Growth.}
The voice fell silent again, leaving only the echo of its words.
The blue text dimmed, hovering quietly.
I let out a slow breath I didn't realize I'd been holding. The room hadn't changed, yet somehow it felt smaller—like I was trapped in a cage I'd only just noticed.
The System didn't speak again, but I could feel it, pulsing faintly behind my eyes—steady, alive, syncing with my heartbeat.
"Damn," I muttered, rubbing my face. "I don't know if I should call this lucky or cursed. But first, I need to figure out who I even am."
I hesitated, then said, "System… bring up my status."
{Opening Status Screen…}
⸻
[Status]
Name: Cael Ardentis
Level: 1
Rank: Novice
Gift: —
Talent: —
Attributes:
• Strength: F
• Agility: F
• Intelligence: F
• Endurance: F
• Vitality: F
• Mana: —
⸻
"Cael Ardentis…" I repeated quietly. "Weird name, but I guess it'll do."
My eyes scanned the stats again, and my shoulders slumped. "And damn—my stats are trash."
The faint light from the screen faded. Finally able to think clearly, I stood and glanced around the room.
Only a bed. A thin blanket. A small dresser that looked ready to collapse.
"Nothing," I muttered. "Not even a chair."
The walls were discolored and cracked, corners crawling with webs. The air smelled faintly of rust and mildew.
'If this is the kind of place I woke up in, then I need to figure out what kind of world I've landed in—fast.'
As I moved toward the door, a sudden chime echoed in my skull.
{New Quest Generated.}
⸻
[Quest: Orientation]
Objective: Explore your surroundings and gather information about the world you've reincarnated into.
Rewards:
• +1 Strength
• +1 Intelligence
• Talent
Penalty for Failure: None
Accept Quest? [Y/N]
⸻
"So I get quests too, huh?"
{Quest Accepted.}
A faint pulse of blue light shimmered, then disappeared.
I reached for the door handle and twisted carefully. The hinges groaned in protest as it opened, revealing a narrow hallway swallowed in darkness.
The air was cold and still.
'I think it's night… or maybe this place just always feels dead.'
The walls were lined with closed doors—no light, no sound. Rats skittered across the floor, their tiny claws scratching against the stone.
I wrinkled my nose. "If you're going to keep kids in a place like this, at least make it livable."
My voice echoed faintly. The deeper I walked, the worse it got—rotted floorboards, mold on the walls, stains I couldn't identify.
And then I saw it: a smear of dried blood trailing along the wall, dark and half-washed, as if someone had tried to clean it but gave up.
A chill crept down my spine.
'Where am I… and what the hell happened here?'
The further I went, the colder it got. The air turned thick with dust and mold. My bare feet made almost no sound, but every creak of the floorboards felt deafening.
At the end of the hallway, I saw a faint light spilling from a door left slightly open.
Cautiously, I nudged it with my shoulder.
Inside was a storage room—if you could even call it that. Crates stacked unevenly, tools rusted with dried brown stains, collars hanging from nails along the wall. A few even had faint runes etched into the metal, glowing a sickly red.
The smell hit next—sour iron and old blood.
"What the hell…" I whispered.
Some of the boxes were marked with tags. Shipment 12-B. Return for Processing.
Others had names—just names—crossed out in thick ink.
I reached out to lift one of the collars when—
"Well, well."
The voice froze me where I stood.
From the doorway, a shadow stepped in—broad shoulders, the dull glint of armor under a worn jacket, a baton resting against his shoulder.
The man's grin didn't reach his eyes. "Looks like you're finally awake."
Before I could even respond, he moved. One rough shove sent me crashing into a stack of boxes. My head snapped back, pain blooming across my jaw.
"Next time," he muttered, grabbing the collar of my shirt, "don't be going into places you shouldn't be"
He dragged me down the hall like a bag of trash. I struggled, but his grip was iron. We turned corners, passed doors barred shut, descended a narrow stairwell that reeked of sweat and dirt.
Then the corridor opened into a massive courtyard.
The sudden flood of light blinded me for a moment. When my eyes adjusted, the scene hit harder than any punch could.
A sprawling yard stretched before me—ringed by tall stone walls topped with electrified wire. Guard towers loomed at the corners, searchlights sweeping lazily across the grounds. Beyond those walls, I could see nothing but dense, dark forest.
Hundreds of kids and young adults milled about the yard. Some were sharpening makeshift weapons, others hauling crates, a few sitting in the dirt too tired to move. All wore the same dull grey uniform I had woken up in.
The guard shoved me forward. "Try not to get killed before nightfall, runt."
The gate slammed shut behind me with a metallic finality that echoed in my chest.
For a while, I just stood there, taking it all in. The clang of metal. The muttered voices. The faint, hopeless rhythm of people surviving one hour at a time.
An older boy—maybe seventeen—looked up from where he sat against the wall. His hair was dark and matted, one eye covered by a crude bandage. "You must be the new one," he said flatly.
"I guess," I muttered. "What is this place supposed to be?"
He huffed a laugh, dry and humorless. "They tell us it's an orphanage. You'll figure out the rest soon enough."
I glanced around again—the towers, the walls, the guards pacing above. "This doesn't look like any orphanage I've ever seen."
"Yeah," he said, standing and stretching his arms, revealing bruises along his wrists. "That's because it isn't. It's a prison, factory or farm whatever you feel like calling there's only one thing they all have in common this is hell"
Before I could ask what that meant, a distant horn blared three short notes.
The yard suddenly shifted into motion—groups forming, others lining up by the far gate.
"What's going on?" I asked.
"Hunt prep," the boy said. "They send us out past the forest walls. Bring back meat, herbs, sometimes… other things." He turned toward me, eyes hard. "If you're lucky, you come back. If not—well, the forest eats well."
My stomach turned. "And the guards?"
"They don't care. They just count bodies."
He looked me over again, as if trying to decide whether I'd last an hour out there.
"Name's Kairen," he said at last, offering a grim smile. "Welcome to the Grey Orphanage. Try to stay alive, Cael."
He said my name like he already knew it.
I opened my mouth to ask how—but the horn blared again, louder this time, and the yard doors began to open.