The screech of tires. The blinding flash of headlights. A burst of pain, sharp and unrelenting, before everything faded into darkness.
Zane Valthor's life ended in an instant.
There was no struggle. No fight. Just the stark reality of a life snuffed out in the blink of an eye. The world that had once felt so real and vivid—his friends, his ambitions, his hopes—was nothing more than a fading memory, slipping through his fingers like sand in the wind. A moment ago, he'd been speeding down the road, on his way to meet friends. Now, he was nothing.
But just as the darkness threatened to engulf him completely, Zane felt something stir.
It wasn't the cold, empty grasp of death he expected. Instead, there was warmth—a force pulling him in a direction, somewhere.
He felt his body twist and contort, not in pain, but in the way a person might stir from a deep sleep. Something was happening. Something... unnatural.
When he opened his eyes again, everything was different.
The world was still dark, but this time, it wasn't the familiar, peaceful blackness of unconsciousness. It was the oppressive kind, thick with tension, as if the air itself were charged with unspoken power. The ground beneath him was uneven, made of strange, cracked stone that shimmered with a faint, eerie light. Towering structures loomed around him, impossibly high, their silhouettes sharp against the dim, moonless sky.
His breathing hitched. What the hell was going on?
Zane sat up quickly, his heart hammering in his chest. His fingers brushed against his face, but it wasn't his face. The skin was different, smoother. The sensations were foreign.
Where am I?
He tried to call out, but his voice came out strangled, weak—like he hadn't spoken in years.
"Who are you?" A voice from behind him startled him into turning around.
A girl. She looked about his age, but there was an air of caution in her eyes. Dark hair framed her pale face, and her clothes were unlike anything he'd ever seen—flowing robes of deep purple and black, embroidered with symbols that seemed to shift and change with the light.
Zane swallowed, trying to make sense of it all. "I... I don't know. I'm... Zane Valthor."
Her eyes narrowed. "Zane Valthor? No... You can't be."
She took a step back, as though she were assessing him. "Your aura... It's completely unstable. You're... wrong. You shouldn't be here."
"What do you mean, wrong?" Zane stammered, pushing himself to his feet, his mind racing. He could feel the weight of something inside him—something strange, something unnatural.
"Your energy..." The girl shook her head. "You're carrying a broken system."
The words hit him like a punch to the gut. A system? What was she talking about?
Before Zane could ask, a soft, metallic voice echoed in his mind, cutting through the confusion.
Welcome to Asheroth, User. Your System is now activated.
Zane's head snapped back as a strange, glowing screen appeared before him—like a hologram or a projection, though it seemed more real than anything he'd ever seen. The words on the screen were written in a foreign script, but somehow, they were legible, as if his brain had adjusted to the language in an instant.
SYSTEM STATUS: Broken.
Zane blinked, disbelief flooding his chest. "Broken? What the hell is this?"
The screen flickered briefly, showing a series of incomprehensible stats and numbers, none of which made any sense. But one thing stood out: the word broken was glaring at him, unyielding. His chest tightened as the full weight of what had just happened began to sink in.
"Is this... some kind of joke?" Zane muttered to himself, his voice shaking.
The girl watched him warily, her expression now one of pity. "You really don't know, do you? This is the world of Asheroth. A world of cultivation. And you—" she hesitated, her gaze flicking to the glowing screen, "—you're no ordinary person. Your system is defective, unstable. That's why you're here."
The ground beneath Zane's feet felt unsteady. His mind raced. Cultivation? System? This was insane. None of it made sense.
"I don't understand," Zane muttered, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. "I was just—just in a car crash. I died."
The girl's eyes softened for a moment, then hardened again. "You've been reincarnated. You're in another world now. This world." She glanced at the strange, shifting structures around them, then back at him. "And if you want to survive here, you need to figure out how to work with your system. A broken system isn't something you can ignore. It will either make you powerful... or destroy you."
Zane didn't know how to process her words. Reincarnated? A broken system?
"What am I supposed to do?" he asked, desperation creeping into his voice.
"You'll figure it out," she said, her gaze hardening once again. "Everyone else here has a system. Some are stronger than others. But those with broken systems? They're usually cast aside. So, you'd better start figuring out how to make yours work, or it'll be the end of you."
Her words echoed in his mind, but Zane couldn't focus on them. His thoughts were scattered. He had died, and now he was in a completely new world, with a system that was broken. There was no safety net here, no comfortable reality to cling to.
He had nothing.
Except for the strange, powerful force inside him, still flickering and erratic like a half-broken machine.
And for the first time since he'd opened his eyes in this new world, Zane Valthor felt something stir deep inside him. A desire. A hunger. Something he hadn't felt in years.
The desire to survive.