VIP System

The world around Leo spun violently, each rotation a blur of pain and chaos. Silva's punch struck with the force of a meteor crashing into the earth, tearing through the cave ceiling as though it were paper in a storm. It tore open as he blasted through it, the cold night air hitting him like a wall as he was flung into the open sky.

His perception was a whirlpool of agony and disorientation, the events of his ultimate defeat intertwining with the image of Roxanne being torn from him. It swirled through his mind like a relentless plague, a festering wound that refused to heal. The helplessness gnawed at him, a relentless beast tearing at his soul. Losing Roxanne wasn’t just a failure—it was a condemnation.

He hadn’t been strong enough, hadn’t been fast enough. She had been taken from him because he hadn’t deserved to protect her.

As he flew through the air, another memory surfaced, uninvited: his last moments on Earth. The crushing despair of facing an unstoppable force, the inevitable doom that had loomed over him—back then, it had been a freak accident, a force of nature he couldn’t comprehend or fight. Now, in this world, it felt disturbingly familiar. Once again, he was up against a power far beyond his control, and the same suffocating helplessness now wrapped around him, dragging him deeper into the abyss of his own mind.

Leo’s body collided with the ground like a discarded ragdoll, no energy left to resist or defend himself. He hit with a sickening thud, the impact sending shockwaves of pain through his already battered form. He tumbled and bounced across the forest floor, each collision with the earth or the trunks of trees a reminder of his utter defeat. The ground tore at him, rocks and debris cutting into his flesh as he skidded across the landscape like a stone cast across a river’s surface.

Everything hurt, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the torment inside his mind. The images of Roxanne, taken from him, played over and over like a broken record. It was carved into his soul, a wound that bled sorrow and rage.

Eventually, his broken form came to a stop, half-buried in the splintered remains of a fallen tree. He lay there, gasping for breath, the world around him eerily silent except for the pounding of his own heartbeat in his ears. The night sky above, visible through the ragged canopy of trees, offered no comfort—just a vast emptiness that mirrored the hollow ache in his chest.

Leo tried to move, but his body refused to obey. Every inch of him screamed in agony, his muscles trembling with the effort. The stars above him blurred as tears welled up in his eyes, not from the physical pain, but from the overwhelming despair that threatened to consume him.

He had lost. He had failed.

“Roxanne…” he whispered, his voice barely audible, choked with blood and emotion. The name was a plea, a desperate cry into the void. But there was no response. Only the cold, indifferent night.

The weight of his defeat pressed down on him like a mountain, and for the first time since he had been thrust into this world, Leo felt the crushing desire to simply give up. What was the point of fighting if everything he cared about could be ripped away in an instant? What was the point of living if he was doomed to repeat the same cycle of helplessness and despair?

Then, something new surfaced within him—a thought, sharp and unbidden. What if he walked away? The question was sudden, jolting him like a splash of ice-cold water.

What if he just… stopped?

Stopped fighting, stopped struggling against the relentless tide that seemed determined to drag him under. The idea was both terrifying and strangely liberating.

For a brief, startling moment, Leo imagined it—letting go, abandoning the fight, surrendering to the cold, suffocating void. The thought lingered, a bitter sweetness to it. No more battles, no more loss, no more pain. Just silence. Would it be so different from what he left behind on Earth? Would anyone truly care if he disappeared into the void, like so many before him?

But just as quickly as the thought had appeared, it was met with a surge of anger—anger at himself for even considering it. No, he wasn’t done yet. He couldn’t be. There were still battles to fight, still people who needed him.

Deep within the abyss of pain and defeat, a flicker of something stirred—small at first, barely perceptible, but undeniable. It was that same flicker that had once pulled him from the jaws of death back on Earth. Back then, he had fought against impossible odds, clung to survival with bloodied hands. That same defiance sparked now, the thought creeping into his mind: If I survived then, I can survive this too.

As that spark flickered in the darkness, another memory surfaced—an echo from a time when his world had crumbled before. It was after his sister’s death, when he had been on the brink of collapse, his life on Earth hanging by a thread. A counselor, one of the few people who had reached out to him in that abyss, had spoken in a calm, steady voice. “When everything feels like it’s falling apart,” the counselor had said, “you have to find something to hold on to. It doesn’t have to be big—just something that reminds you of who you are and why you keep going.”

Those words, meant for a grieving Eman, now resonated with Leo, pulling him back from the edge once more. The tiny spark of defiance grew a little brighter, fueled by the memory of a time when he had fought through the darkness before.

With a trembling hand, he forced his arm to move, every muscle screaming in protest as he reached toward the system interface, his mind clinging to the one thing that had been his constant companion—Ai.

His fingers brushed against the air, and the familiar, holographic display flickered into existence. He struggled, his hand shaking as if burdened by a thousand unseen weights, but he managed to navigate through the system, summoning Ai back into his world.

In a flash of light, Ai appeared beside him, her calm presence a lifeline in the storm of his mind. She was as precise and emotionless as always, yet in that moment, her presence brought him a quiet comfort—a reminder that he wasn’t alone in this fight. He had created her to be his guide, but somewhere along the way, she had become his anchor, the one constant in this ever-shifting world.

Without a word, she moved with a precision that belied the gravity of the situation. Her hands danced through the air, tracing patterns only she could see, and two bottles of shimmering red potions materialized before her.

With dexterous hands, Ai grabbed the bottles mid-air, her movements quick but controlled. She knelt beside Leo, her focus unwavering as she uncorked the first potion. She carefully lifted his head, tilting the bottle to his lips. The liquid was cool against his tongue, the taste bitter and metallic, but Leo drank it down, feeling the warmth spread through his body as the potion began its work.

As he took the second bottle, a faint light enveloped him, pulsing gently as it knit together his bruised flesh and shattered bones. The pain that had gripped him so tightly began to ebb, replaced by a tingling sensation as his body slowly mended. But even as his physical wounds healed, the memory of his utter defeat lingered in his mind, a reminder of the harsh reality he now faced.

Leo pushed himself upright, the scent of earth clinging to him, grounding him in the moment. The bitter truth slapped him back to reality—this wasn’t a game. The stakes were real, the danger palpable. This world, his second Earth, demanded more than just skill or strategy; it required a resolve he hadn’t yet fully grasped.

He had crossed a line, a line he had always hoped to avoid. The weight of responsibility pressed down on him, each breath a reminder of the people he cared about—the family he needed to protect. The fear of failing them gnawed at him, a constant whisper that he wasn’t strong enough, that he would lose them too.

For a moment, he let that fear wash over him, its cold tendrils wrapping around his heart. He thought of the battles he had lost, the moments where his strength had faltered. The despair threatened to swallow him whole, pulling him into a dark abyss where hope seemed unreachable.

But then Ai’s voice, steady and devoid of emotion, cut through his thoughts. “Leo, our current objective remains unfulfilled. The most efficient course of action is to return to the guild and reassess our situation.” Her logic was a stark contrast to the turmoil within him, but it offered clarity—a reminder that there were still tasks to be done, battles to fight.

The anger at his own weakness, at the world for constantly testing him, began to burn away the cold. His fists clenched involuntarily, the tension grounding him as he fought to pull himself back from the edge. The fear was still there, but now it coexisted with something else—determination. He wasn’t done yet. He couldn’t be. There were still battles to fight, still people who needed him.

Slowly, his breath steadied, and the fog of doubt began to lift. The weight on his shoulders didn’t lessen, but it became something he could carry, something he chose to bear.

His gaze, once clouded by the shadows of doubt, sharpened with a growing resolve. He looked at Ai, her presence a constant reminder of the path they needed to take. He wasn’t alone in this. As long as there was a chance to protect those he cared about, he would keep fighting.

“Let's go back to the guild,” he said, his voice still rough, but now carrying a quiet determination.

“Amanda might be wondering what we’re up to.”

Ai nodded, her hands moving quickly to bring up the system’s world map. She found the guild’s location with practiced ease and tapped the icon, enveloping them in a soft glow.

As the world around them dissolved, Leo felt the weight of his resolve settle into place. But even as he steadied himself, the ominous reality loomed on the horizon. The battle with Silva had been a mere prelude—an opening note in the symphony of war still to come. The true fight was only just beginning, and the darkness that awaited him would demand far more than strength. It would test the very core of his will.