Night. A quiet suburb in a mid-sized modern city
Cars packed the streets, the nightlife pulling young people out of their stuffy apartments to blow off some steam.
On top of a two-story house, Eric Williams crouched quietly, a light breeze cooling the sweat on his neck.
He was dressed in black, a wide hood casting a shadow over his face as he blended into the rooftop darkness.
It was summer, hot even at night, and wearing full black wasn't comfortable—but compared to everything else he'd been through, this was nothing.
Two hours later, a sleek black car rolled into the driveway below. The engine died, and a middle-aged man stumbled out—drunk, clearly.
Eric reached for the long blade beside him. He unsheathed it—black metal, perfect for hiding in the dark.
He jumped. From six meters up, he caught the edge of the roof with one hand, used it to slow his fall, and landed smoothly right in front of his target.
Without a word, he swung the blade. It sliced clean through the man's throat with a soft whistle.
Blood sprayed. Eric dodged most of it, but his sleeve and hand still got splashed.
The man, too drunk to understand what was happening, dropped like a sack of bricks. The wound was fatal. No need to check.
Eric turned and ran toward the back of the property. It was mostly empty this time of night.
Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a security guard.
He didn't care. His face was covered, no cameras around. No big deal.
Then, something felt off—his instincts screaming at him.
The "security guard" pulled a gun. Silencer attached. That wasn't standard-issue security gear.
What kind of rent-a-cop carries a suppressed handgun? Eric didn't have time to wonder.
The villa was behind him. The guy with the gun stood about twenty meters away. If Eric ran, his back would be wide open.
His gut said don't run—end the threat.
He charged, zigzagging to make himself a harder target.
*Bang* *Bang* *Bang*
The shots were nearly silent.
Eric had barely moved five meters when his leg went numb. Then his chest. He'd been hit.
His body was going cold. No panic. Just frustration.
He wasn't done. His revenge wasn't complete. Dying like this—unknown enemy, random ambush—was a joke.
Using what strength he had left, he threw his blade.
It spun through the air, a blur in the dark, and—by some miracle—buried itself in the guard's chest.
The guy dropped.
Eric smiled weakly.
The blade had been coated with neurotoxins—nasty stuff. The guy was as good as dead.
Eric hit the ground hard. Everything faded.
○●□■○●□■○●□■○●□■○●□■
[Transferring consciousness…]
[10%… 50%… 100%. Transfer complete.]
[Critical body trauma detected. Initiating emergency stabilization.]
[Growth-type talent detected. Extending survival time by 2 hours.]
Eric drifted in darkness, floating in some weird dreamlike void. Pale blue text hovered in mid-air like someone had hacked reality and turned on subtitles.
He groaned. "I better not be in a hospital commercial."
---
When he came to, everything hurt. His leg, chest, pride.
"Okay… still alive. That's... surprising."
He sat up slowly, surrounded by black nothingness. Just him, some glowing text, and a headache.
[Hunter, welcome to Reincarnation Paradise.]
"Oh great," Eric muttered. "Is this one of those weird indie games with moral choices and cryptic dialogue?"
He didn't care about the glowing words. First priority: wounds.
His leg looked like something a pitbull had chewed on. His chest? Worse. But… no bleeding. Just open wounds. No pain either, which was concerning.
His hand pressed over his heart.
Still beating.
"Seriously... what the hell is this?"
[You are not dead. Do you accept the contract with Reincarnation Paradise?]
More glowing text. More questions. A countdown appeared:
[1:34:58]… [1:34:57]…
"I'm guessing that's not a pizza delivery timer."
[If contract is not accepted in 1 hour 35 minutes, life functions will terminate.]
"Wow. You people really know how to make a guy feel welcome."
[Please respond to proceed.]
Eric rolled his eyes. "Fine. Hit me. What's the deal? What do I give, what do I get?"
[Upon signing, you will travel through Derivative Worlds—alternate realities—and complete missions. In return, you'll receive power, abilities, and currency exchangeable in Reincarnation Paradise.][You must gather 'World Source'—the more you earn, the greater your rewards.]
[Reincarnation Paradise is… omnipotent.]
Eric squinted at that last line. "Omnipotent? Cool. Can it bring back my parents?"
Everything froze.
Text faded.
Then a simple message blinked into existence:
[Given your identity as a Hunter: No.]
Eric leaned back, exhausted.
"Figures."