Fantasy is all about escaping the real world.

There is a point a man's life when he has had enough.

Maybe the pain was too much, the cancer eating the bone, the lack of sleep, poverty...well, there are too many reasons a man might choose to forcefully meet Death, sooner than his Fate allows.

And there are moments in life when one is simply unlucky, and a thunderbolt falls from clear skies( mostly clear), and illuminates your brain for a brief second that feels rather long. Infinitely long, perhaps.

*Ding

You have died.

*Ding

Congratulations! You have won the Celestial Lottery, and were given a new life.

*The System is online

*You are now Level 0

*Your body now mostly follows the rules of a Gamer and is immune to aging effects. If your HP reach 0, you will die again.

*Your mind is fortified and will withstand most mental and psychological attacks. MP create a buffer against any mental attacks.

*Your soul is fortified and will withstand moderate attacks. SP provide a buffer against any soul attacks.

*HP 40, MP 10, SP 3.

I looked around, trying to feel terrified and scared, yet unable to.

A huge city sprawled around, skyscrapers, yellow taxis and plenty of hungry people. Also rats. Also hungry.

Without even trying, my mind began to piece together evidence and facts, far more easier than it used to in my first life.

Then again, my emotions were muted to a great degree, possibly because of this System hanging in the front of my eyes, and likely inside my brain as well.

A gamer...that was good. Even without levels, I was effectively immortal now. It said right here in front of my eyes.

Immune to aging effects. Didn't exactly say immortal, but I was reading between the lines.

As for where I am...I picked up a ragged newspaper and figured it out rapidly. Superpowers.

I was in a comics universe.

Fit right in with my own superpower, to be fair. Sure, I wasn't overpowered yet, but I would be. Train myself, build up some levels and I could punch through a tank.

It was the soul attack thing that worried me. Even if the likelihood of soul attacks must be small, it wasn't zero.

Given a long enough time, any non-zero chance becomes a certainty.

*Ding

Through logical reasoning you have figured out your real weakness. Gain 1 Wisdom attribute. Gain 2 Logic skill points.

*Ding.

Find out how to protect your immortal soul. Reward: not a soul slave.

I was a stranger in a stranger land.

This city called Midway_City shouldn't exist. It never existed before, yet now it did, a mess of glass towers and luxurious suites, beside an impoverished ghetto where the rats and people starved together, huddled into each other for warmth.

Luckily, my new body despised regular physics, just like this entire universe did. Even if East and West Germany had just reunified, whenever this newspaper was printed.

I was living in the 90's again, if I cared about gambling on the internet start-ups and various dot coms. In fact, I should secure a hundred valuable domains, just in case.

Searching through my pockets, I found a leather wallet containing a driver license for a Pef Wizard, age 18, a resident of Michigan, USA. Okay, at least I had an identity, if not one of my choice. I was also much younger, but then the times were young as well.

There were two 100 dollar bills and five 10 dollar bills in my wallet, along a single key.

Focusing my gaze on the key, and whispering: identify, observe, detect, and a dozen other keywords I managed to produce a new window.

*Locker key, box 109, Midway_City_Train_Terminal .

Did this mean I had to scamper away from this nice, polluted city before some asteroid crashed?

Possibly not yet, since the System didn't send an escape notice or quest. For now. I had a feeling this city was not a safe place anyway.

"Look guys, what do we have here?" the leader of a trio of local 'Ardboyz asked rhetorically, eyeing me with a predatory gaze. Did I look that vulnerable?

Don't answer!

Of course I did, in a young, untrained body.

Clean clothes, and much too modern sneakers for this place and age.

"He seems lost, boss! Maybe, we can give him a ride to train station?" a dirty-looking, and smelling gangster asked with a crooked smile.

I sighed inward, and simply grabbed the nearest hard object, some broken bit of concrete with a metal handle stinking out, rather conveniently.

And action!

Of course I didn't wait to be mugged or robbed, probably beaten senseless or even killed. I was looking for exp, not becoming one.

My level may be zero, but my body was young and agile anyways, while my older mind had plenty of experience with street fighting. Plus, I literally felt no fear, or even excitement.

Smack, dodge, smack, smack. Three clean hits to the knees, then I had to jump aside and throw my weapon as gangster leader drew a gun and got smacked in the head by a 3 kilo concrete block.

Rushing after the gun, I turned my back on the second guy, and got a knife stuck in my liver for it.

I felt the pain, more like an urgent message to finish the fight quickly.

So I grabbed the gun and let my hands operate by themselves, cocking, aiming then firing the pistol before I could think too much.

Bang, Bang. Bang.

One, two, three. Three headshots in one second.

Damn, I was quite good already.

*Ding

Level up! You have reached Level 1. HP restored.

Useful information, for later. If my wounds could be healed instantly via level up, that meant hard enemies might provide instant heals after a tough fight.

Bang. Bang. Bang. Three more shots to secure the kills. Not that I missed the first time or anything, but good habits need reinforcement. Always double tap.

Police the scene, picking the cartridges and the other loot, wallets and keys.

Car keys especially, a dirty-blue Ford Van parked just in front of the alley.

As I climbed in the car, I took out the knife, and noticed a -1 HP notification, although no blood. Pretty good as well. Blood is messy, especially when fleeing a self-defense scene.

*Survival quest

- Defeat the three low level criminals (complete)

- Escape retaliation by the rest of the Ardboyz gang (targets remaining 271)

- Escape Midway City Police (targets remaining 20498)

Uh. No way. I was not going to battle an entire gang of armed criminals. Nor the entire MCP department.

Not at level 1 anyway.

Escaping then. As I drove away, I found a scarf to tie over my forehead, concealing my grey-blonde hair.

Not old grey, but not platinum either. My hair, I mean.

At the next intersection, I parked the van and walked away calmly, then filled a random trash can with the unnecessary loot, keeping only the cash (154 dollars)

Then I kept walking and dumped the 6 copper cartridges in a sewer. As fun as keeping mementos of my brave defensive action would be, I doubted the DA would feel the same.

Not that I voted for any DA in my life, but still. I should have burned the bodies. Too late to return for this anyways.

Ah, look! A Net Cafe!

I almost forgot such places existed. But of course they did. People would need to use their emails or join chat groups, even if computers were still rare and expensive.

Sadly, there was no Starcraft yet, nor free downloadable clients either. Sad, right?

A real gamer, without a worthy game to play. Well, at least Civilization would be around.

Anyways, lets first achieve the easy objective of securing future wealth, by acquiring expensive dot com domains.

Although the net speed in this age is abysmal, the sites and applications are also rudimentary, thus everything moves at decent speed.

One hour and a hundred dollars later, I have a hundred million dollars hidden in the future.

Time traveling is cheating, I know. But then, I don't feel sorry.

Somebody stuck a knife in my back, not long ago.

Another shopping trip, this time to the nearest mall, and 200 dollars later, I have age-appropriate clothes, lacking knife holes and possible blood spatter.

My old clothes burn nicely into an alley trash can, as does the gang scarf, erasing the last evidence of wrong doings.

Now, I have to decide what to do with my life. Superhero stuff? Too early. I am not a super anything yet.

Military career? Better. I could gain some training and levels from it, from professionals in the killing business.

But perhaps, not from any national army. A private group? Much better. Still, I wasn't worried about mundane stuff.

That soul business was more worrying. Plus, there should be magic around. Magic training would be nice.

Walk some more, enter the next net cafe. There's no Google yet, but Altavista is fine. Magic heroes, villains...nobody familiar. Still, I have a bit of hope.

This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

There is a sub-race of humans called Homo_Magi, and they use magic. There used to be a Council_of_Wizards, now presumed vanished.

Various circus and stage magicians. Nothing actionable though.

Damn it! I shouldn't have expected an easy ride though. I guess body comes first anyways. Healthy body, healthy mind, right?

Walking may be the most mundane transport method, but it is almost as safe as airplane transport.

Slow but safe. As I walk, I sip from a Coke can and try to think.

Thinking is important, sometimes. How to become a Wizard?

I had a driver license, naming me one. Pef Wizard. Possibly a hint or a cosmic joke. Likely both.

Was there a person in this universe, who got mind-wiped by my arrival? Was he my alternate double? Did I hijack myself?

Not that I did anything to cause this event...let's assume not.

As I saw the Midway Train Terminal out in front, I sat on a bench. Whatever I found in that locker should give me clues to a destination, a trajectory for my future.

This Cosmic Lottery that I won...without buying a ticket, no less. A Heavenly Lightning killing my cancer-riddled body, before I gathered enough courage to do it myself.

I wasn't feeling sorry for myself. This was a great life to be given, even just being young and healthy again. But a Gamer System? It made the entire reality, before and now, look like a cosmic joke.

The growth potential of a Gamer placed even the most overpowered entities I could imagine in a tiny zoo for my enjoyment, sooner or later.

Sure, there would be challenges, dangerous quests and such, but in the end I had nothing to lose and everything to win. Perhaps I did win a cosmic lottery. Just, I wasn't certain what path to choose.

Do I follow the script? Accept the quests as they come? More exp for sure. Acting like a character in game, for whoever ran this show.

*Quests are not compulsory. Gamer is free to decline.

The System intervened, possibly sensing my doubts.

Of course, it would. A Jupiter-sized brain, in a far away universe, playing god with a meat puppet. Possibly playing god with Gods as well. Pulling the strings of Fate.

Not something I could fight, logically. Not for thousands of levels, anyways.

Alright then. To the locker.

Pulling my baseball cap low over my eyes, I walked with purpose towards the locker side, and picked up my travel bag, a brown leather bag heavy enough to strain my 6 Str body.

Likely over 50 kilos. Maybe 60.

Iron or gold. Hopefully gold, I thought as I heaved my heavy prize.

I bought a train ticket to Philadelphia, then climbed on board and peek into my bag. It was not gold.

Closing the zipper, I sighed inward and closed my eyes. Guns. Whoever needs 50 kilos of guns?

Gunfire sounds made my open my eyes. I haven't escaped yet.

More scarf wearing gangsters were shooting up the train station, pinning down cops and blasting holes into the century old station. Better to have and not need, than need or not have.

Dragging my bag to the bathroom, I locked myself inside and began taking out the contents, even finding a supple fiber-like armor bodysuit as well as tactical gloves, a balaclava and tactical goggles. At least the suit was all dark grey, including a hood. No yellow boxers to wear over it. Decent stuff, considering how much worse it might have been.

While I wasn't trained for this, my body moved on its own, equipping the suit, then holstering weapons and mags in their places like it knew what to do. Took only a minute as well, just in time as the gangsters began boarding the train looking for someone.

Flashbang first, then I started shooting, accurate single shots at every hostile.

Some 20 rounds later, my hands changed mags and returned to firing position by instinct. Guess that's what they meant by mostly gaming rules.

You were pathing your exit or searching new targets when your character was reloading in Counterstrike, not fumbling with your mags.

My kill count went much higher once I climbed on the train and began cleaning the gang guarding the station walkways.

Level 2, Level 3, Level 4.

With each level, my actions became smoother, my balance better, my peripheral vision wider.

Luckily, the System was also smart enough not to flood my targeting view with nonsense messages about skills and perks. Or perhaps it learned from my inner grumblings.

Just once, as an RPG wielding gangster peeked from behind a marble column to take a shot at me, a red warning prioritized the man as a target, making me switch targets almost instantly and fire a burst into the grenade warhead, blowing up the gangster and several of his buddies.

Level 5. 54 targets remaining.

Perhaps I could finish off this gang, and prevent further problems in the future. I wasn't certain how they found my trail, but it wasn't forensics or me leaving tracks.

Jumping off and ducking under parked trains, I left the train station on the other side, and changed myself in a bus station. My hoodie had a red inner layer, so it worked great when turned inside out.

However, I kept the grey bodysuit underneath, both as protection versus the elements as well as unlikely bullets or knives. I learned that lesson, thank you very much.

It had started raining hard, just as it went dark, making the entire Midway City even more miserable than normal.

Then, as the next bus came, a pair of scarf wearing individuals climbed behind me, and began complaining loudly about the failed train raid.

They were less than a meter away, and 20 more people on the bus, but the gangsters didn't care.

So I waited, until their stop came and they got down to report to the Manager. Leaving some 50 meters between us, I followed them at a sedate pace, keeping to shadows when possible.

Not that these guys had any clue on dodging tails or fancy counter-surveillance.

A few minutes later, I found their nest, or maybe headquarters. Or both, considering how the dirty gangers lived like rats, among rats and refuse and garbage.

No need for subtlety anymore. I rushed in and began shooting, splaterring my red hoodie with more and more red.

A few dozens kills later, even some higher ranks among them, I reached Level 6. Just in time, as a magical purple energy blast hit me from out of nowhere, and threw me tumbling like a leaf.

MP 30/60. Ouch. Whatever the attack was, it over-matched my mental defenses and the MP took the hit instead.

One more hit like that, and I'll be defenseless. Better not risk it just now.

I left a primed grenade in my place and ran away, and seconds later a violet globe deflected the grenade explosion away. I was already waiting, eye lined with the scope of my FN rifle.

Why did I have a Belgian assault rifle in my travel bag? I don't know, and didn't ask.

Full auto, and 20 rounds smashed into the weakened magic shield until cracks began to form. I threw out a flashbang, then began to reload my rifle, when a man dressed in black leather flew out with a glowing wand in hand.

By reflex I grabbed the wand and yanked it away, then drew my pistol, a Beretta with my left hand, placed its barrel under the man's chin and unloaded 12 rounds. The last 2 rounds piercing the man's weaker side and entered his brain, pacifying the threat. So I took out my service K-bar and finished the job, chopping off the head with several hard cuts.

These Homo Magi were really durable, even a lousy gangster mage like this one.

*Ding.

Magic +1. By killing a Wizard (pathetic as this one), you have unlocked your magic potential. You are now a real Wizard.

Uh? A bit too easy, but perhaps just being a Wizard wasn't all that hard. Finding spells and magic training would be much harder.

I searched the man, collecting a number of rings, amulets and charms that might be useful one day, alongside the wand.

Then I kept going. A dozen targets left. My wounds were gone due to the recent level up, and these pathetic gangsters shouldn't have another wizard. They were supposed to be very rare.

Descending in the basement of their lair, I began finding traps and tripwires, everything from bear-traps to Claymore mines, and improvised coffee cans with nails and dynamite in-between.

However, I was also a Level 6 now, and my senses were off-the-charts compared to a normal human. I possibly had a magic sense too, as I noticed a glowing line at hip level, but nothing physical.

I threw a rock, then a coin. Didn't trigger the trap, making me think it wanted something alive.

A minute later, I returned with a pair of rats. The first one flew through the glowing beam without a problem, but the second one burst into violet sparks, then tentacles lasting for an entire minute before they vanished into motes of energy.

*Ding.

Demolition skill +2. Logic skill +1. Well done.

I mean, thanks? I try to stay alive, if I can.

Maybe a quicksave would be useful too.

*Save points are available after Level 50. Good luck, Gamer.

Oh, fuck you too!