Luke jolted awake. His cheek tingled. He had fallen asleep with his face on the ground. His mind was a storm, thoughts tangled and scattered.

  He glanced around, heart pounding.

  This... wasn’t his house. He was inside a vast cavern, dimly lit by natural light filtering through a jagged opening above. Something was wrong.

  How did I get here?

  He looked down at his clothes: coarse trousers, a plain shirt, old-fashioned shoes coated in a layer of fine dust. The fabric scratched at his skin, heavy and stiff against the warm air. None of it felt right.

  He tried recalling the night before. The past week. Nothing. His head was still shaking off the fog of sleep.

  Drawing a deep breath, he stepped out of the cave. Light forced his eyes to squint. When they adjusted, the words died in his throat.

  A lush field stretched out before him, trees heavy with crimson apples. A stream whispered in the distance. Everything looked peaceful... until he looked up. The “sky” was a cavern ceiling. High above, a colossal crystal glowed, casting light like an artificial sun.

  What the hell...?

  [Luke, thank you for accepting the System’s Annual Integration!]

  A translucent screen hovered before his eyes.

  The System.

  The memories hit like an avalanche.

  He remembered everything.

  He had agreed. He had been transported into the System’s Integration Zone, the phenomenon that had changed the world over the past century. The System linked Earth to the multiverse, granting humans classes, powers, and evolution. Superpowers weren’t science fiction anymore. They were real.

  Luke clenched his fists.

  "I really made it... I’m inside the Annual Integration."

  At eighteen, everyone received an invitation. Decline, and you'd have to wait another ten years.

  Luke had accepted instantly.

  He looked at his hands. They were clean, steady, though faintly trembling. Something lifted from his chest, like an invisible burden finally falling away. For the first time in years, his mind felt quiet.

  "I'm here... I made it."

  His eyes gleamed.

  "Mom... hang in there. I'm going to save you." The words came out soft, barely a whisper, meant more for himself than for the world.

  Ahead, a river wound across the field, feeding a lake that shimmered under the false sun. But it was a waterfall cascading into a deep cavern that drew his eyes. He approached, cautious, each step careful on the uneven ground. Then stopped, stomach twisting. A black abyss opened at his feet, so deep it seemed bottomless. A cold draft surged upward, silent and chilling, as if warning him to stay away.

  [You have entered the Training Grounds]

  Another screen appeared:

  *Training Grounds*

  Before beginning your journey, you've been transported to the Training Grounds. Here, you may choose a class, test weapons, level up, and unlock abilities. There is no time limit. Think of this as a lobby, where you may encounter other participants. Reach level 5 in your chosen class to begin the Tutorial.

  Luke tapped to dismiss the screen.

  But another one flashed in front of him, marked with a glowing red “!”.

  [Error!]

  [Error!]

  [Error!]

  [Error!]

  [This location is not the Training Grounds]

  [You have been transported to an unknown location in the multiverse. Route failure.]

  The messages overlapped in a chaotic cascade.

  "What...?"

  He tapped frantically, but the interface jittered and shook. Notifications blinked erratically, as if the system itself had glitched.

  Then, one final screen emerged:

  *Ruins of the Forgotten Temple*

  An ancient temple devoted to a fallen being. Surrounded by monsters that thirst for blood. The only way out is to locate the temple and retrieve the key that activates the portal. But be warned… this challenge is not for the weak.

  Objective: Find the key inside the temple, insert it into the mission statue, and activate the portal.

  Difficulty: Hell.

  Luke froze.

  He stared at the message, willing it to vanish, like sheer defiance might overwrite the screen. But it remained, pulsing faintly, glowing like a death sentence carved in light.

  “No… this can’t be right.”

  His body moved before his thoughts could catch up. Legs tense, automatic. He began walking quickly, almost on instinct.

  The once-peaceful field now felt wrong.

  Too open.

  Too quiet.

  Apples scattered across the ground like abandoned offerings. The trees... too still. It was all a mask.

  And then he saw it: Ruins.

  Half-hidden between the trees, a cluster of ancient stone buildings emerged. A fusion of Greek and medieval architecture: shattered, scorched, forgotten. Collapsed columns. Charred homes. Complete desolation.

  No other adventurers.

  No activity.

  Only silence.

  Luke quickened his pace. His heartbeat slammed against his chest, each thump vibrating through his entire body. The muffled crunch of footsteps merged with his pulse, a rhythm of growing dread.

  This wasn’t supposed to exist. The System is perfect.

  But the reality screamed otherwise. He moved through broken remains. Splintered wood snapped beneath his boots. Cracked stones were slick with moss and dust. The destruction was fresh. The scent of something burned still lingered in the air.

  A shiver slid down his spine. Then he saw it.

  A statue. Weathered stone, darkened by time, cracked and crawling with moss. It wasn’t moving, but it felt like it was watching him.

  "That’s the mission statue!"

  He broke into a run. Leapt over debris, dodged jagged rocks. His footsteps echoed sharply against the stillness. His breath came fast.

  Then Luke stumbled. He hit the ground hard, palms scraping against the coarse earth. He pushed up.

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  And felt it.

  Something cold.

  Rigid.

  He turned his head... and saw what he had fallen on.

  A body.

  “Oh God!”

  He scrambled backward, hands digging into the dirt, panic taking control. He backed into a tree, bumping hard. Apples dropped around him. He barely noticed.

  The corpse was there. Riddled with arrows. Its face frozen in terror.

  It was recent.

  Luke's chest rose and fell in sharp, uneven bursts, trembling like the very air was reluctant to enter his lungs. His shirt clung to his skin, damp with sweat.

  What happened here?

  He scanned the area, body tense. If that man had died here, then whatever killed him might still be watching—lurking behind a tree or crouched among the ruins.

  He swallowed, throat dry and raw. Reaching down, he picked up an apple from the ground, turning it in his hand. It was cold, slick with morning dew. He slipped it into his pocket. If something attacked, he could at least throw it... and run like hell.

  He took a breath.

  Stepping deeper into the center of the ruins, each footfall echoed through the suffocating silence. Even the sound of leaves beneath his boots felt unnaturally loud. The statue stood tall, imposing.

  Then, it opened its mouth.

  A guttural sound rumbled from deep within.

  The voice that followed was strange—both male and female, as if two echoes overlapped. It carried weight, like it came from the stones, from the ground itself. It vibrated through his chest, challenging his heart to keep beating.

  "Two paths lie before you, lost traveler.

  The first is the trail of those who fear fate.

  Step by step, rung by rung,

  they descend into darkness as shadows without courage.

  The second is the leap of the brave,

  where only those who challenge death itself

  surrender to the current that roars and carries them without return.

  But be not deceived...

  Death awaits you on both paths.

  The only question is whether it comes swift or slow."

  The statue’s mouth snapped shut with a sharp crack.

  Luke didn’t move.

  Sweat traced the side of his face. The statue was now pointing—its stone arms rigid and deliberate, like a judge condemning the souls who passed before it. There was something solemn, almost cruel in the gesture, as if it already knew what each path held.

  One trail vanished into the woods ahead, cloaked in dry leaves. The trees arched inward, their branches twisted like gnarled fingers. A crooked sign nailed into the dirt read: Dungeon

  As if it were a warning more than a label.

  The other path followed the river, winding gently toward the waterfall in the distance. White foam spilled over the edge into the dark cavern below, disappearing into the earth like a whisper too dangerous to follow.

  Short breaths. Thoughts crashing into each other.

  This place was supposed to be safe.

  What killed that man?

  Is it still here?

  A sound snapped the silence. A branch breaking.

  Luke spun around, raising his only "weapon"—the apple.

  A man emerged from the underbrush. His face was pale, streaked with dirt, eyes wide with fear.

  "Boy! For the love of the gods, get out of here!" He was panting. "They’ll be back any second!"

  Luke froze.

  The man held a sword. He stepped back, instincts flaring.

  His clothes were stained with blood. Sensing the tension in Luke’s eyes, the man slowly raised his hands, fingers spread.

  "My name’s Walter. Police officer. I’ve been here for a week."

  "A week?!" Luke felt a chill ripple through him, like time itself had melted. The place had already been strange—now, it was terrifying.

  Walter stepped forward.

  Luke instinctively took a step back.

  "Listen. They went into the dungeon, but they could be back any minute. They control this area."

  Luke blinked. "What do you mean, a week? That’s not possible. Everyone’s supposed to arrive at the same time in the Training Grounds."

  Walter let out a bitter laugh.

  "If you made it to this statue, you already know. This isn’t the Training Grounds. It’s a route error." He spat on the ground. "We got dumped into a dead zone."

  Luke turned slowly toward the statue.

  He already knew it—but hearing it from someone else made it worse.

  Walter kept going.

  "You saw the challenge rating, didn’t you? That dungeon’s massive. And packed with things that'll kill you before you even realize what hit you."

  Luke glanced around. His thoughts were spinning.

  He needed to get out. He needed answers.

  "And the blood?" he asked, voice firmer than expected—though it cracked slightly at the end. "Whose is it?"

  Walter sighed.

  "If you saw the body... that was Mike." His expression hardened. "They killed him yesterday."

  Killed.

  Luke swallowed hard. "Who’s 'they'?"

  Walter’s grip on his sword tightened.

  "Criminals."

  Luke stopped breathing. "Criminals?!"

  Walter glanced around. "Come on. I’ve been keeping watch near the statue for days, hoping someone would show up. You’re the only one who has."

  Without waiting for an answer, he darted into the trees.

  Luke hesitated.

  Logic screamed not to trust so easily, but the weight of solitude pressed harder. He didn’t know how long he could survive alone—without information, without allies. He was vulnerable… and he hated that feeling.

  Luke cast one last look at the statue. Now it seemed more sinister than ever.

  Swallowing hard, he followed Walter.

  Crouched low, Luke watched the officer closely. Walter moved like a cornered animal—quick, but cautious. Every step seemed deliberate, like any sound might be his last.

  "I hide out in a house nearby," Walter whispered. "The prisoners stay north, near the dungeon... but sometimes they come all the way to the statue."

  Luke frowned. "Prisoners? What the hell is this?"

  Walter shot him a brief look, then crept toward a crumbling stone house. He looked drained.

  "You just got here... I’m sorry. You’re in a bad spot."

  There was a weight in his voice Luke didn’t like.

  "Every year, during Integration, there’s a risk. Prisoners can accept the invitation."

  Luke blinked. "What?"

  "That’s how they escape prison."

  Luke’s stomach turned.

  "The government knows. That’s why they send police too. If we’re close enough, we get routed to the same Training Grounds."

  Walter clenched his fists. "My squad was big. But thanks to this routing error, only two of us made it."

  Luke felt a chill climb up his spine.

  "And the prisoners?"

  Walter stared into nothing.

  "All of them came together."

  Luke’s skin went pale.

  "No... don’t tell me I’m stuck here with—"

  "Yes." Walter’s voice was grim. "Serial killers. Terrorists. Psychopaths."

  Luke’s blood ran cold.

  Walter stepped closer to the stone house's entrance, his voice tense.

  "It was supposed to be simple. Contain the inmates before they accepted their classes. Then move on to the tutorial and keep control."

  He clenched his jaw.

  "But it went wrong."

  Luke swallowed hard.

  "We were separated. By the time I found the criminals in the dungeon... they already had classes. And they leveled up."

  For a few seconds, the wind was the only sound.

  Walter whispered, barely audible.

  "Sorry, boy. You’re going to die."

  Luke's eyes widened.

  "Don’t say that!" He stepped back. "There has to be another way! Like… negotiation!"

  Walter stared at him.

  His eyes were empty.

  "They’re psychotic maniacs," he said coldly. "They won’t let you live."

  Luke tried to speak. No words came out.

  A sharp whistle cut through the silence.

  SHUNK!

  An arrow slammed into Walter’s chest.