Darkness.
It was all-consuming, a vast void that smothered every sense, every thought. Time itself seemed to lose meaning. There was no up or down, no forward or backward—just an endless, oppressive blackness that stretched on into infinity. It wasn’t just the absence of light; it was a void so complete that even the idea of sound, touch, and sensation had ceased to exist.
Is this it? Arctus thought. Or maybe it wasn’t even a thought—just an echo of what thinking might feel like. Am I dead?
There was no body, no sensation of breath or heartbeat to cling to. It was like his mind had detached, adrift in a formless nothingness. Panic tried to rise within him, but even that emotion seemed muted, swallowed up by the stillness.
Then, something changed.
A faint hum, distant at first—so subtle he questioned if he’d imagined it. It pulsed through the nothingness like the soft vibration of machinery, growing louder, closer. It wasn’t sound exactly, but something more primal, like energy vibrating at the core of his awareness. He latched onto it, his mind seizing the only sensation he could perceive.
What is that?
The hum grew sharper, more focused, until it solidified into something recognizable. Lines of glowing text materialized in the darkness, characters scrolling too quickly for him to comprehend, but familiar enough to stir a sense of recognition.
SYSTEM INITIALIZING…
LOADING ENTITY DATA…
NEW HOST DETECTED: [SYSTEM NODE 001]
The words blazed in his consciousness, sharp and alien yet somehow familiar. Like a game interface, he realized. No, it was exactly like a game interface—the kind he had spent hours designing back on Earth. But this wasn’t Earth. And this wasn’t a game.
Am I... a system?
Before he could fully grasp the implications, the nothingness around him shifted. Colors and shapes blurred at the edges of his awareness, and then, with a sudden, dizzying jolt, his perspective snapped into focus.
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Through New Eyes
Arctus found himself in a world—no, a view. His perspective was wrong, distant, as though he were observing through someone else’s eyes. A small, rustic village appeared before him, its wooden huts sagging under the weight of time and age. Shadows stretched across dirt paths as the sun sank toward the horizon, casting long fingers of twilight over the scene.
The scent of smoke hung in the air, carried on a cool breeze, though Arctus couldn’t feel it directly. His view focused on a boy standing in the village square. He was no older than sixteen, his face smudged with dirt, clutching a bundle of firewood in his arms. The boy’s eyes, wide and innocent, held no sign of the dangers lurking beyond the safety of the village.
I’m tethered to him, Arctus thought, his mind racing to comprehend. I’m not human anymore. I’m not even a player in this world. I’m a system. A hive mind.
This boy was his first node, the first connection that linked him to the world of the living.
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He blinked—if blinking was even possible—trying to sort through the mess of information that bombarded his mind. A semi-transparent display hovered at the edge of the boy’s vision, visible only to Arctus. It was a basic interface, the kind he’d created for tabletop RPGs. The boy’s stats appeared in crisp, digital text:
Health: 100/100. Stamina: 50/50. Mana: 10/10.
A set of unremarkable stats blinked in the corner—nothing impressive.
Strength: 2. Agility: 3. Intelligence: 4.
It’s like watching a character in a low-level game, Arctus thought, feeling a surge of frustration. But this wasn’t a game. It felt too real—the weight of the firewood in the boy’s arms, the feel of the dirt beneath his feet. Arctus could sense it all through the boy, but he couldn’t control him. Only watch. Only observe.
I’m... some kind of hive mind, he thought, his unease growing. He remembered the games he had designed on Earth—the careful balance of mana, skills, and quests. He had spent years honing those systems, crafting intricate magic-based worlds for his players. But this is different. This world is alive. It breathes, shifts, and reacts in ways I never imagined.
And now, he was no longer a player or a creator. He was the system itself.
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First Commands
The boy moved, heading toward the forest on the edge of the village. He seemed unaware of Arctus’s presence, his thoughts focused on gathering enough firewood before nightfall. The simplicity of the task irked Arctus. He wasn’t idle, though—he was testing, experimenting. Can I influence this boy? Can I direct his actions, even subtly?
He sent out a thought, a quiet nudge. A line of text appeared in the boy’s vision:
“Be cautious. The undergrowth ahead may conceal threats.”
The boy hesitated, glancing toward the dense foliage beyond the clearing. His hand tightened around the bundle of firewood, his steps slowing. For a brief moment, it seemed as if he had registered the warning. But then, shaking his head, the boy resumed his task, stepping into the thick underbrush.
So, I can suggest, but I can’t force him, Arctus noted. He wasn’t in direct control. It was frustrating, but also... exhilarating. I have influence. I can guide. And maybe, with time, I can do more than simply suggest.
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The First Threat
The interface flashed red, a warning pulsing at the edges of the boy’s vision.
DANGER DETECTED: LOW-LEVEL THREAT APPROACHING.
Arctus felt a jolt of urgency. His senses sharpened, focusing on the forest around the boy. Through his tethered connection, he saw it—a shadow moving in the trees, too fast to fully make out, but unmistakable. It was a predator, something dangerous.
His stats are pitiful, Arctus thought, the reality of the situation sinking in. The boy’s mana was barely enough to cast a single spell, and his strength would be no match for a predator of this size. If he stays, he’ll die.
I have to act.
Arctus opened the system menu, flicking through the limited abilities at his disposal. He didn’t have much energy left, but there was one thing he could do. Quickly, he crafted a basic defensive spell, pouring his meager reserves of mana into it.
New Skill Created: Mana Shield (Level 1)
Description: A weak, temporary shield that absorbs one hit.
The command flashed before the boy’s eyes.
“Cast Mana Shield now!”
The boy froze, his eyes wide with confusion. The words hung in his vision, compelling him to act. With trembling hands, the boy raised them instinctively, and a faint blue barrier flickered to life around him.
Just in time. A wolf-like creature lunged from the underbrush, its fur dark and bristling, teeth gleaming in the fading light. The Mana Shield crackled as the wolf slammed into it, and for a heart-stopping moment, the barrier wavered.
But it held.
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The System’s First Victory
The wolf circled, snarling, but the shield gave the boy enough time. At Arctus’s urging, he turned and fled, feet pounding the earth as he sprinted toward the village. The Mana Shield sputtered out just as the boy reached the edge of the clearing, collapsing in a heap near the village boundary. Behind him, the wolf retreated into the shadows of the forest, growling its frustration.
For Arctus, there was no sense of relief. Only a cold realization.
I saved him... barely. I’m too weak. This system is incomplete. Unfinished.
Creating the skill had drained him, and now he was running on empty. But he had learned something important. I have power. I can influence this world—shape it. But if I’m going to survive, I need to grow. I need more connections, more nodes to expand my influence.
Because this world wasn’t just dangerous for the boy. It’s dangerous for me too.