.  At the college campus, it was an idle Saturday afternoon in the middle of Summer. Some were hard at work studying, others were at their dorms, but many lazed about in the greener outside. 

  A boy sat underneath a gnarled old tree, a hand absentmindedly tracing the curls of the ancient bark, his body as unoccupied as can be. But even then, within the young man’s mind, he thought of wild, magical realities, reminisced about certain games, and otherwise let his imagination run wild fantasizing. So much so, in fact, that he scarsely noticed when a front of rain descended onto then greenery. And by the time he started to notice that the storm was thickening past a simple summer rain-

  KRAKA-BOOM

 -he didn’t need to fantasize any more.

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  Blindness, numbness, and yet, the feeling of incomphrehensible vastness. 

  What-? Am I... dead?

  In the endless expanse, shapes become distinguishable. Not in sight, not with any sense, but tangible by the soul, open gates, leading to the material.

  This is... Reincarnation?

  Paths, towards countless possible beings, different worlds, or even completely alien realities, laid, welcoming.

  The soul of the youth who loved the fantastical knew, instinctively, what each of these paths would deposit his soul into, and by some cosmic favor, could choose. One vessel, in particular, seemed oddly attractive to him. In a world of fantasy, a being known as a Dungeon Core, a magical crystal with the capacity to grow into and rule a tiny realm all of it’s own. That is the body that this unbound soul chose to transmigrate, but just as it touched the gate, but before fully passing, a great calamity erupted in a world not too distant, causing ripples throughout the spirit world, and casting this unfortunate soul far off the intended course.