"How many more things do I have to deliver already?" Allen wondered, staring at the stacked parcels. For a moment, he stood still, mentally counting each box with weary focus. It was an ordinary end-of-day, where every movement felt heavy. He visualized the remaining route through the city streets.
"Eighteen left, I think," he concluded after a quick calculation. The number wasn't negligible, but he had to finish his task. He took a deep breath, gripped the cold handlebars of his vehicle, and prepared to face the traffic. Allen just wanted to get his work done.
He mounted the worn seat, which creaked under him. "Madame Sumi, I'm heading out!" he shouted, ready to start the engine. His voice echoed across the courtyard, overpowering the growing noise from the street. He cast one last glance at the shop to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything. The engine coughed before roaring to life.
"Yes, my boy, be careful on the road," Madame Sumi replied softly. She watched him leave with maternal kindness, wiping her hands on her apron. Allen appreciated the attention; it made his day less grueling. He nodded and shifted into first gear.
His bike carried two boxes of plates, precariously secured. He had to ride with extreme caution to avoid breaking the porcelain. Every vibration reminded him of the fragility of his cargo. He left the courtyard and merged into the flow of traffic with agility.
The roads were unusually empty at this hour. Only luxury cars passed, gleaming under the setting sun. The contrast was striking between these shiny vehicles and his old, outdated motorcycle. Allen felt like an intruder amid such wealth.
Alone on his shabby machine, he ignored the judgments of the sedan drivers. To him, this bike was merely a tool to earn a living. His eyes stayed fixed on the road, focused on obstacles. He maintained a straight course, ignoring the chrome reflections of the cars.
Approaching a familiar turn, he leaned into the curve confidently. But this time, a massive figure suddenly appeared, cutting across his path. Time seemed to slow as he braked desperately. The screech of tires on asphalt tore through the quiet of the residential street.
He collided with a car, its body gleaming despite the force of the impact. The sound of metal was followed by the crash of shattering plates. Allen was thrown to the side as his bike skidded several meters. The deliveryman lay on the ground, breathless from the shock.
The car stopped abruptly, leaving black streaks on the pavement. The driver stepped out, displaying a controlled panic. His black jacket highlighted the imposing physique of a bodyguard. Trained to react quickly, his eyes scanned the surroundings before settling on the young man.
He approached Allen with apparent concern. "Hey, are you okay?" he asked in a loud voice. The collision hadn't been too severe; Allen seemed only dazed. The bodyguard extended a hand to help, scrutinizing his face for serious injuries.
Allen turned to him, eyes blurred. "Thanks, I'm okay," he replied, steadying his breathing. Pain radiated through his limbs, but nothing seemed broken. He accepted the man's help, mostly worried about the boxes of plates now reduced to rubble behind him.
The man suddenly changed his demeanor upon seeing Allen's face. He withdrew his hand as if he had touched something disgusting. His expression hardened, all trace of concern gone. He wiped his hands with disgust. Silence thickened with a new tension.
"Haaah," the man sighed with disdain, putting away his handkerchief. He looked at Allen like a piece of trash obstructing his luxury vehicle. "I was so scared, but it's just an Unchosen… what a waste of time," he added coldly, returning to his car.
Allen felt his legs numb and struggled to rise. The pain in his knees forced him to remain seated on the still-warm asphalt. He hadn't paid attention to the man's malice, focused instead on the tingling in his muscles after the impact. He was simply trying to regain his strength.
Another voice, calm and elegant, rose from the vehicle. "John, mind your manners," said a new arrival with authority. A young man stepped out, drawing attention with his refined presence. He advanced toward Allen with a slow, regal grace that commanded respect.
He had shining blond hair and a mysterious black mark under his eye. He wore a deep blue jacket adorned with golden embroidery. The rich fabric captured the daylight in a way Allen had never seen before. Every detail of his attire signaled membership in an elite class.
"But Young Master… he's an Unchosen," the bodyguard replied, flustered. He couldn't understand why his superior would lower himself to speak to a mere deliveryman. The guard stayed back, casting dark glances at Allen while fidgeting with his gloves, unable to see beyond social ranks.
The young man let out a "hmm" that silenced the bodyguard. The blond approached Allen, extending his hand. "Hello… I'm Rays Grenoll, sorry for my bodyguard's behavior," he said politely. His tone was courteous, devoid of the arrogance expected from someone of his rank.
Allen hesitated before taking the hand, too clean to be trustworthy. "Don't worry, it's fin—" he began. He hadn't finished when an intense white light surrounded their hands. The phenomenon was so sudden he stood dumbfounded, eyes fixed on the blinding glow.
He tried to pull back, feeling a strange warmth spread through his arm. But his fingers seemed fused to Rays' by an invisible force. The light intensified, illuminating the turn. Allen felt his heart race as energy pulsed between their palms.
"Young Master!" the bodyguard shouted, rushing forward. He was violently thrown back by a powerful shockwave. The light refused interruption, forming an impenetrable barrier. John was slammed onto the car hood. The scene had become surreal, beyond comprehension.
Allen struggled to free himself, terrified. Instinctively, he looked to the young man for help. He then noticed a strange smile on Rays Grenoll's lips, far from benevolent. His eyes shone with a new, cold, scientific curiosity as they observed Allen.
"It's useless…" Rays said in a dry tone, his voice deepening and vibrating. The words froze the air, rendering all resistance futile. Allen couldn't comprehend, his thoughts scrambled by the light. He lost control of his body as the brilliance became unbearable.
"Wha—" he murmured, stifled by the hum of energy. Rays' face faded behind the white veil. The real world seemed to dissolve: the road, the bike, and the plates disappeared. Allen felt himself pulled into a vortex of pure light.
"Good luck," were Rays' last words before Allen vanished completely. The words resonated like an ironic farewell. The turn returned to calm, leaving only the overturned bike and the dazed bodyguard. A deathly silence settled over the luxurious street.
The transition was violent. Allen now felt sucked into a space where time no longer existed. Total darkness replaced the light, creating a suffocating void. Then a mechanical, emotionless voice echoed in his mind, resonating against the walls of his skull.
[Identification of the Chosen in progress], the voice announced. Allen felt a scan run through every cell of his being. [Identification failed, data unknown], the voice continued after an eternal pause. His confusion deepened; he tried to scream, but no sound emerged from his tightened throat.
[System shutdown in progress], the voice persisted as interference scrambled the message. It became unstable, crackling before fading. […] It was the final sign of activity. Allen floated in the void, disoriented, sinking into a protective unconsciousness.
He awoke in a dense forest with strange trees and vivid colors. The air smelled of humus and unknown flowers. Allen lay there, trying to comprehend his presence in this wild place. "Where am I?" he wondered, head aching, facing a floating bluish message:
[Welcome, dear Chosen]
[You have entered Dimension A43…]
[Type log to see your stats and starting rewards]
Allen stared into the void. "What's happening?"